Tramp, Tramp, Tramp

While it may today mark a milestone for giving early work to both Joan Crawford and director Frank Capra (here writing his first feature), "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp" mattered at the time for quickly launching Harry Langdon as one of the silent screen's chief clowns.

By the way, that may be the first time the words "Harry Langdon" and "quickly" have appeared in the same sentence.

As a piece of history, "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp" is certainly worth viewing and relatively painless at just over an hour. As a comedy, it's not so smooth a ride, with a thin-as-crepe main story about a walking race across the United States and a lot of padding in the form of Harry's ceaseless blank-faced mugging.

The story has the makings of a Capra classic: While big corporation Burton Shoes ("The Sole Of The Nation" its omnipresent billboards read) gloms up the market by sponsoring the walking race, little shoemaker Logan & Son struggles to pay the rent. It's up to the "Son," Harry, to win the race for the $25,000 reward - with help from Crawford as the Burton CEO's daughter.

"I'll get the money in three months if it takes a year," Harry vows.

But nothing is done with the whole big-company-versus-little-guy thing, it just sort of is there. Harry doesn't have any problems with Mr. Burton, except when he tries to shake the man's hand while eating a sandwich. The love interest with Crawford likewise just sort of happens, with Crawford looking as lost in her role as underdog-loving ingénue as Babe Ruth would be playing shortstop. If her father notices her falling in with this no-account, he doesn't seem to care.

Long sections of the film grow tedious, like a section which finds Harry a prisoner in chains, or another where he first meets Crawford with much shy blinking. At one point Harry shares a bedroom with his chief race rival and landlord, Nick Kargas (Tom Murray). It's almost like Laurel and Hardy, except for the absence of chemistry and Murray's inability to play anything for a laugh.

You see why people talk about Langdon as a proto-Stan Laurel; with his baby face and winsome gaze you never feel anything other than protective of the poor guy. Sections of the film do work, too, like the culmination of a cliff-hanging scene that keeps Harry a step ahead of his competition, or a big finale where Harry and Nick cower in a barber shop buckling in a cyclone.

But even the film's big moment, of Harry on that cliff, only work when you don't think too hard of those other silent clowns whose thrill sequences involved real danger. Here you can see Harry's working with the aid of process shots, and the jump cuts as Harry dodges a series of rolling rocks are hard to miss.

Whoever was directing the film (Harry Edwards is credited, though Capra may have been helping) doesn't seem able to sustain anything, or get the various bits to cohere. While the title cards amuse, the laugh lines are weak. "I'm so crazy about that girl I'm crazy," Harry exudes.

Give "Tramp X 3" points for charm: Langdon was a genial clown, and a minute or two of his finger nibbling can be amusing. It just goes on too long, including two minutes at the end when we see Harry mug some more, this time as a baby in a giant cradle. As a vehicle to launch Harry Langdon to a national audience, "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp" worked like a charm. But as a lasting testament to his comedy, it stumbles more than a bit.

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.

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.

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.