Tramp, Tramp, Tramp

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.

Baby-faced Harry Langdon never made it to the top in the way that Chaplin, Keaton and Lloyd did, and watching this, his first feature film, it isn't difficult to see why. Langdon isn't a bad comic actor, but the pacing of the gags is sometimes painfully bad (over-extended usually) and, while this film does hit a few modest high notes it never comes near to challenging the work of the silent comic greats.

Langdon plays the son of a shoe store owner who is going out of business because of the competition from Burton Shoes, a major factory with a nationwide advertising campaign fronted by a young (and barely recognisable) Joan Crawford, on whom young Harry has a hopeless crush. This being Hollywood, Joan is quite attracted to Harry too, and encourages him to embark on a cross-country race to raise the money he needs to save his father's store.

While there are some funny scenes, too many of the big moments seem to be steals from other movies. Harry hangs precariously from a fence on the edge of a cliff by his belt buckle in much the same way Harold Lloyd hung from the side of a building in Safety Last. He also slides down a long hill, dodging rolling rocks as Keaton did in Seven Chances. The comical scenes that are original aren't all that funny and go on too long, and the climactic cyclone sequence is particularly poorly handled.

While Tramp, Tramp, Tramp isn't by any means a dud, it's purpose now seems merely to show how much better the likes of Chaplin and Keaton were at their craft.

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.

The Strong Man is generally considered THE Langdon film, but I

think that's because it's dramatically stronger and more unified-- which in some ways only makes it less suitable for the quizzical little comedian at the center of the story, who's really too small to carry such a big film. Tramp, Tramp, Tramp is more shapeless and to my mind is the quintessential Langdon comedy, especially since its high point lets him do his own distinctive variations on famous moments from two other silent comedians. A competitor in a cross-country marathon walk, Langdon winds up in the middle of nowhere, dangling from a fence over a cliff; where Harold Lloyd dangled over a busy city, the reaction of the crowd being used to whip up a comic frenzy, Langdon's childlike struggles occur in the most desolate, abandoned nowhere, a place where his body wouldn't even be found for 50 years. Later, sliding down the cliff, Langdon finds himself in the middle of an avalanche, much like Keaton in Seven Chances-- but where Keaton dodges boulders heroically, Langdon simply shuts his eyes and wishes his predicament away. From the wildly oversized mugging of the Keystone era we are now at the absolute extreme of comedy minimalism; Langdon is to slapstick what Malevich's White on White is to painting.

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.