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The Greenhorn 
Many still believe that Langdon got his start in pictures with Mack Sennett,
or - as the Old Man himself liked to say - that he came to Sennett direct
from "the knockabout stage," "with no money and no fame"
and (it was certainly implied) no moviemaking experience. Nothing could
be farther from the truth!
In early 1923, when Harry Langdon was a big-time vaudeville headliner (with
both money and fame), he decided to get into pictures. According to Harold
Lloyd, who had seen the Langdons' act in Los Angeles, Harry spoke first
with Hal Roach, but Roach wouldn't meet his price. He then turned, not to
Sennett, but to wunderkind movie mogul Sol Lesser, signing a contract
with Principal Pictures. Through the summer and early fall of 1923, Langdon
cut his celluloid teeth as the star in an uncertain number of two-reel comedy
shorts - there were at least three, The Sky Scraper (aka The Greenhorn),
A Tough Tenderfoot, and A Perfect Nuisance, all directed by
Alf Goulding. These films were not just planned, but actually made: the
"Exhibitors Herald" was full of news about them at the time, and
years later, two of the three - renamed Horace Greely Jr. and The
White Wing's Bride - were released and distributed by Pathé.
The Cat's Meow
In October 1923, a general crisis of confidence among the major filmmakers,
and possibly financial problems at Principal, resulted in a shakeup; Langdon
found himself traded off, his contract snapped up by Sennett. But when Harry
signed with Mack in November 1923, he was no obscure vaudeville trouper
fresh from the tank towns. Rather, he was a much-ballyhooed Hollywood veteran
who'd sweated under the hot sun on a movie lot, going through his paces
in take after take. He'd earned respect, and he got it. Sennett gave his
new acquisition great latitude, time to find his own style, his own team
to craft his shorts, even (alone of all the comics on the lot) an orchestra
to set the right mood during shooting. The Old Man expected great things
of Harry.
The first short film Langdon made for Sennett, Smile Please, had
been intended for another player; it's been suggested, with some truth,
that any comic on the lot could have done as well as Harry did in this mish-mash
of special-effect gags - only in the second reel, where Langdon is a harried
photographer struggling to get an unprepossessing family's portrait taken,
does the pace slow enough for him to work his magic. It was much the same
with the next few pictures; Harry was all but smothered under the weight
of tired gags, out-of-control plots, situations better suited to other comedians
(in Picking Peaches he clings to a ladder, Lloyd-like, high above
the city streets), and Sennett bathing beauties.
Somewhere around The First Hundred Years and The Luck o' the Foolish
(August-September 1924), things began to change:
the pace slowed, the stories became more coherent, and the focus was squarely
on Harry's unique character with all his timid hesitancies and naïve
responses. What made the difference? In part, it may have been the direction.
From The Luck o' the Foolish on, Harry Edwards directed every one
of Langdon's remaining films for Sennett. Maybe it was partly the consistency
that came with gradual formation of a "Langdon team." Rounding
out that team were Arthur Ripley, listed in the credits beginning with Boobs
in the Wood (February 1925), and Frank Capra, beginning with Plain
Clothes (March 1925). And maybe it was just a matter of Langdon finding
his film legs.
Harry's popularity grew with each succeeding short, and the team began producing
longer comedies, including three-reelers like There He Goes and Soldier
Man. All the great comics of the era - among them Chaplin, Arbuckle,
Normand, Lloyd, and Keaton - had made the transition to feature-length pictures,
and now Langdon was running to catch up. With His First Flame, he
did so (though it was not released immediately). In just two years on the
Sennett lot, he'd vaulted to the top ranks of silent comedy stardom.
Part II |
