Kill or Cure

Before the days of home video, Stan Laurel's pre-Hardy comedy 'Kill or Cure' was known -- to the extent that it was known at all -- only because a few sequences were included in Robert Youngson's compilation film 'Laurel and Hardy's Laughing 20's'. Youngson knew what he was doing: the best gags in 'Kill or Cure' were brought intact into his compilation, while the rest of this only mildly funny comedy remained on Youngson's cutting-room floor.

Laurel portrays a commercial traveller, hawking a patent medicine cried Professor I.O. Dine's Knox-All: that name is the funniest joke in this movie, which ain't sayin' much. I should point out that this movie dates from 1923, the shank of Prohibition. During Prohibition, quite a lot of Americans purchased patent medicine if it had (ahem!) 'medicinal' properties, so -- if Knox-All contains alcohol -- Stan's job in this movie is less desperate than the one which he and Ollie famously had in 'Big Business', selling Christmas trees in the summer. Too bad for this movie that it's not nearly so funny as 'Big Business'.

We see Stan (but don't hear him, in this silent film) delivering a spirited sales talk to a man who seems to be paying attention ... until we learn that they're standing outside a deaf-mute institution, and this man is deaf. A haughty woman emerges from the gates: Stan quickly tries to engage her attention by wiggling his fingers at her. Of course she's not deaf, and she promptly whacks him with her umbrella. I found this sequence offensive, NOT because it involves deaf people (the deaf aren't the butt of the joke) but because it abets the very widely-held misconception among hearing people that they can communicate with the deaf by merely waggling their fingers randomly and performing Charades without actually learning the highly complex grammar of sign language.

More amusingly, a spinster in this movie has a pet canary named Rudolph (as in Valentino), and there's a gag involving trick photography to enable a man to hide behind an object that's narrower than his body. I've seen this device in several cartoons and live-action movies but 'Kill or Cure' is, I think, the earliest movie to use it that I've seen so far.

Stan Laurel, an under-rated actor, does one bit of physical business here that's worthy of Chaplin or Keaton, in which he conveys his emotions -- and a change in his demeanour -- while walking away from the camera with his back to us. Still, Laurel never really became a first-rate comedian until he united with Oliver Hardy to form the greatest comedy team ever. 'Kill or Cure' barely rates 3 out of 10.

This one-reeler is essentially little more than a series of blackout gags built around Stan Laurel selling some patent medicine. It's unambitious and amusing enough, but not very memorable. The opening two gags, with Stan giving a spirited sales pitch to the deaf-mute, then speaking in outlandish sign language to an affronted older woman, are probably the best and bear the hallmark of Laurel's later, less ephemeral work. The the tirelessly brash salesman character he plays here is well-realized but not the kind of persona that could carry many films... or even necessarily a two-reeler... or even necessarily a one-reeler that required some kind of sequence of events. Still, it's fun and amusing -- just nothing special.

Laurel has been accused of being unfunny before he teamed up with Oliver Hardy, but I think that this film is proof that that is not the case. Laurel is different than his later character but his adventures as a door to door salesman or his attempts to be one is rather funny.

He'll do anything to make a sale of his bottled cure-all. He may not be quite as subtle as in later years but it's a joy to watch.

The central character of this comedy short is the type once described as a "go-getter," a brash young fellow who in this case happens to be a salesman, a semi-desperate one who will do almost anything to make a sale. He's aggressive but basically good-hearted, he flirts with the ladies, and when he's especially pleased with himself executes a little dance of joy. Based on this description alone you might guess that the leading man is Harold Lloyd, but in fact the star of Kill or Cure is Stan Laurel. He was still working solo at this point, and trying on different screen personae the way a shopper of the 1920s might have tried on different hats. In this particular incarnation, peddling bottles of miracle elixir door to door, Stan is a fast-talking hustler who is as far removed from the Stan of Laurel & Hardy days as could be imagined. He's moderately funny but the character is a little hard to take, and it's easy to see why he soon left this persona behind in favor of mock heroic roles in movie parodies, and, ultimately, the slow-thinking, accident-prone dimwit with whom his name will be forever associated.

The elixir Stan is selling—Professor I.O. Dine's Knox-All, no less—seems to be a holdover from a 19th century medicine show. We're told it can be used for coughs, colds, or a toothache, or perhaps as furniture polish or bleach. Most of the prospects Stan approaches turn him down, but a subplot develops when a cheerful drunk buys a bottle and is then pursued by a detective across town. When the cop finally catches up with him and samples some of the elixir he responds as if he's ingested turpentine, but when the drunk takes a swig his reaction indicates: "Wow! That stuff packs a real kick!" Nowadays this gag looks like a grim comment on the impact of booze on heavy drinkers, but for viewers during Prohibition it must have been interpreted as a satirical jab at the quality of bootleg liquor commonly available. As for our hero, it appears that Stan may have better luck peddling his stock as cleaning fluid rather than medicine. One prospective buyer, a big guy, is the owner of a filthy car who allows Stan to demonstrate the product's efficacy by scrubbing his automobile. (Coincidentally the actor is Noah Young, best known as the heavy in many a Harold Lloyd comedy.) Stan throws himself into the work with furious energy, even using his own shirt sleeve as a rag, but in the end the man laughs at him and refuses to pay. Stan's vengeance on the jerk is especially satisfying, and should have been this film's finale, but unfortunately the sequence that follows it and concludes the short is anticlimactic, and leaves us with a final image of our lead comic as a perennial failure.

I first saw this movie, or a portion of it anyway, when it was excerpted by film historian Paul Killiam for one of his made-for-TV silent comedy compilations in the '60s. Killiam used the sequence with Noah Young and also the opening gag, in which Stan attempts to peddle his elixir to an unresponsive, blank-looking fellow, only to discover that the man is an inmate of the Deaf and Dumb Institute and hasn't understood a word he's said. Then when a formidable matron comes along Stan assumes she's also deaf, and performs a high-speed parody of sign language in order to make the sale. Naturally he fails, and the lady is offended. Killiam's narration for the TV version of this scene offered an apology of sorts for the questionable taste of the gag (and this during the heyday of Lenny Bruce!) but I think it's worth mentioning that in this instance Stan himself is the butt of the humor, first because he's twice unaware of who he's addressing, and second because he doesn't make the sale anyhow and gets thoroughly chewed out, to boot. Silent comedies often feature gags in dubious taste, but then again, comedies today cover material that would have been considered beyond the pale in the silent era, as in There's Something About Mary and its many imitators. Material considered acceptably "outrageous" in one era becomes completely off-limits a few years later, and so it goes!