Un sportman de ocasión

Harry Langdon appeared in his first feature film, playing the son of a shoe maker who tries to win a large monetary prize by a walk-across-America race contest in March 1926's "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp." The sponsor of the race, a shoe manufacturer, uses the photo of Joan Crawford for the contest's promotion, sparking a love-interest in Langdon's heart. This movie has been credited as one of the first films to use a Madison Avenue-type public relations slant as the main nexus to the plot.

The screenplay was written by Frank Capra. He was a gag writer for Mack Sennett since 1924. Sennett assigned Capra to work with Langdon a year later when the comedian was acting in two-reelers. Langdon was offered a more lucrative salary and feature film roles with First National Studios in 1926, taking along Capra with him to be his personal writer and later on his director.

Joan Crawford, in only her second year on the screen, received her largest role yet in cinema as the promotional woman in the ad. She also was the central motivational force for Langdon's deep inspiration for winning the foot race. The actress was on loan from MGM to increase her visibility in Hollywood. She appears in the concluding scene with Langdon admiring a baby, which turns out to be Langdon in a crib with infant clothes. During filming, the real baby was so fidgety and uncooperative that Langdon lightly suggested he could replace the baby to garner a laugh from the viewers. When the preview audience saw the Langdon stand-in for the baby, they howled. The comic decided to leave the scene of him in the nationally-released version.

"Tramp, Tramp, Tramp" was a financial success for Langdon. Film Critic Maria Schneider described Langdon's character as an innocent caught up in the middle of a corrupt world. She felt Langdon's acting to be "an acquired taste, his gentle absurdities and slow rhythms take some getting used to, but patient viewers will be rewarded." The American Film Institute felt the same way, nominating it as one of 500 movies to be considered for the Top 100 Funniest American Movies Ever Made.

One of Harry Langdon's most enjoyable outings, this one gets into the plot straight away. The laughs start coming thick and fast as soon as he makes his dull-witted entrance, and they continue most heartily right up to the cyclone climax which, with all its mechanical contrivances, I thought the least funny in the movie. I feel Harry is at his best when he has minimal props to sustain him and is forced to rely heavily on his stop-and-start walk, his facial twitches and his hesitant to-and-froing to keep laughter at its height.

Langdon's style of comedic reacting needs excellent stooges and in this film he has two of the best in his entire career: Tom Murray who is beautifully set up for conflict right from the opening shot and is then brilliantly revealed not only as a ruthless landlord but as a stop-at-nothing competitor; and pushy Brooks Benedict who artfully manages one of Harry's funniest routines in the movie.

And then, of course, there's Joan Crawford. Admittedly, although she is the catalyst for Harry's cross-country sprint, she is not exactly treated as a star equal. In her key scene with Harry, her face is hidden by her cloche hat. But nonetheless, she's in there swinging.

Superbly enhanced by some of the most beautiful tints ever presented on the screen, this movie is a visual delight from first to last.

The title of silent comedian Harry Langdon's debut feature may have been borrowed from the popular song of the same name, but it also carries a hint of challenge, suggesting by comparison to the Little Tramp that Langdon must be three times as funny as Chaplin. And, under certain circumstances, he was just that. Unlike other comics (Chaplin included) who needed constant activity to be funny, Langdon's wistful, winsome character was at his best when simply standing still, getting the maximum effect out of a minimal effort: subtle facial expressions, tentative hand gestures, and so forth. Not that he wasn't given plenty to do: enlisting (reluctantly) in a cross country foot race; falling in love with the billboard image of young Joan Crawford; escaping from a chain gang; and battling a cyclone almost as fierce as the one Buster Keaton faced in 'Steamboat Bill, Jr'. His minimalist technique and odd, infantile mannerisms are an acquired taste today, but adventuresome fans of silent comedy will discover in Langdon a unique, often astonishing talent.

"Tramp, Tramp, Tramp" was the first feature film Harry Langdon made for his own newly formed production company to be distributed by First National Pictures, and the first of his features to be released.As such it faced the problem of adapting his slow, underplayed style of comedy to a greater length for the greater length and more lavish production of a feature, and it meets this challenge well to create a very funny film.

The plot is strange -- essentially Harry finds himself walking in a cross-country marathon to save his father's shoe business -- but it manages to pull of the trick of remaining quite unified while encapsulating a number of discrete stages for Harry to do spread out and do comedy. The first ten minutes or so of the film are taken just to lay out the scenario, and that saves the necessity of their being interruptions during further scenes. In fact, all the opening revelations about the small businessman being squeezed dry by the big company are played more like grim drama than comedy, and this works -- I think Harry Langdon is funnier when he innocent, childlike, and somehow supernatural character is contrasted with the unpleasantness of reality.

Harry's fallen in love with a young Joan Crawford, the girl on the shoe conglomerate's billboards. This is funny in itself just as a concept, funny because of the humorous sight of sophisticated, glamorous Joan and befuddled, infantile Harry falling for each other, and funny because of gags that are drawn out of it (the torn-off images of her all around Harry's hotel room, and then hiding under his sheets). It also works to drive Harry along in walking the race. The girl's character isn't really built though, and little time is actually spent on their interactions (except for a great gag shot where a house is blown away in a cyclone to reveal them kissing passionately). At such this element of the film works well, but "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp" doesn't have quite the emotional punch that other Langdon comedies sometimes have.

Of course, the real comedy in a good Harry Langdon comedy comes mainly between what happens, from Harry's subtle but mesmerizing and hilarious little reactions and ineffectual, childish attempts at action. This film allows for a good assortment of comedy set pieces where there is room for that, and probably one of Harry's best pieces of pantomime comes in the extended shot where he is flummoxed by encountering two Betty Burtn's at once: one on a billboard and one the real person. It would be a throwaway gag to most comedians, but Harry draws a long series of laughs from his reactions to it. There's a great scene around Harry's inadvertent antagonism of his new roommate the walking champion of the world (in which, in the don't-try-this-at-home department, he is given a whole handful of sleeping pills), and a sequence of Harry in a chain-gang after his arrest for stealing berries that could have been rearranged slightly into its own two-reel comedy. It also contains perhaps my favorite little moment where Harry, breaking up tiny rocks with his tiny hammer, is given a gun -- and uses the butt of it to break up slightly bigger rocks.

While the characteristic signature of Langdon is in these moments, bigger production gags are in evidence here as well, and are both funny and impressive. Especially the scene in which Harry, after hanging off a cliff (and, characteristically, is very funny just by being oblivious to it) falls down it but easily survives by accidentally sliding on a detached fence, and the one in which the barber shop he has entered is constantly being physically twisted around by a volcano are extremely funny, inventive, and visually impressive.

The end, in which Harry is revealed to have had a baby named Harry that is exactly like him in an over-sized cradle, is very weird, but somehow very appropriate. Harry is an eternal baby in a grown-up world, who will be somehow the same no matter what his supposed real age.

Desperately in need to pay the rent, a naive young fellow begins the long TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP of a walking race across the United States for the prize money.

Harry Langdon brings his own brand of minimalist comedy to this charming little silent film. Eschewing most manifestations of slapstick, Harry instead portrayed his famous character as an innocent child-man, a kind of adult baby, who reacts with insouciant naiveté to the perils the wicked world flings at him. Here he must compete with his devious landlord for the prize money, while the race itself confronts him with prison gangs, wild weather & honest-to-goodness cliffhangers. All the while Harry never loses the daffy optimism which continues to propel him along.

A talented supporting cast adds to the film's success: Alec B. Francis as Harry's crippled, impoverished shoemaker father; Tom Murray as the belligerent landlord, who also just happens to be the world's champion race walker; and Edward Davis as the shoe tycoon who sponsors the race. As his lovely daughter, Joan Crawford doesn't have much to do except encourage Langdon in his endeavors, but her few romantic scenes with him manage to be both poignant & ludicrous simultaneously.

Harry's production company burnished the film up nicely, with the cyclone sequence particularly effective. One of the story writers was a young Frank Capra, who would be a big contributor to Harry's short-lived stardom.