Showing posts with label Mack Sennett. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mack Sennett. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Book Review: "King of Comedy" by Mack Sennett

Mack Sennett's autobiography (as told to Cameron Shipp and originally published in 1954) is a highly entertaining read, capturing the spirit of its author and subject with humor, energy and vitality. However, its accuracy with regards to facts has to be taken with an extremely large grain of salt. Sennett peppers his life story with tall-tales and exaggerations, which are in keeping with the larger-than-life qualities of the personalities and experiences of the early days of the comedy picture business that he portrays so vividly.

Sennett takes a predictably skeptical view of the perceptive critics who saw his frantic comedies as a new art form and offered analyses of his filmic style, though Sennett is sure to acknowledge that his freewheeling and zany pictures were the result of much hard work and planning, and that comedy was a very serious business indeed to the men and women involved in their creation.

Perhaps the most interesting parts of the book are the early chapters dealing with Sennett's entry into show business, through a letter of introduction from Calvin Coolidge, of all people, to stage star Marie Dressler, who in turn recommended Sennett to producer David Belasco in New York. Sennett's account of the New York show business world at the turn of the century is vivid and colorful, especially in discussing the many personalities who were just beginning to flourish at that time. The account of his arrival at Biograph and subsequent tutelage under D.W. Griffith is particularly interesting in describing the relatively casual and carefree way in which these films were made, and the sense of discovery and potential that they saw in the medium. Of all the future collaborators Sennett met in his days at Biograph's studio on east 14th Street, perhaps the most significant for him, both personally and professionally, was Mabel Normand.

He devotes a great deal of the book to Normand, whom he clearly had a great deal of affection and fondness for years after her passing, and even given the tensions that arose between them following their broken engagement in 1915 (though Sennett is rather coy and inconsistent about the details in his account here). What is clear is that he thought the world of Normand and, as he states at the end of the book, one of his goals in writing it was for readers to be able to get to know her. Sennett has kind words, too, about other fellow clowns and collaborators, especially Ben Turpin, Harry Langdon, and Hank Mann, delights in telling how he discovered Charlie Chaplin, and laments having lost Harold Lloyd before realizing his full potential.

The chapters on the William Desmond Taylor murder are interesting for Sennett's perspective on Normand's involvement in the case, though they perhaps attempt to move through the details in too small an amount of space, leaving the reader wanting more information about the mysterious scandal that rocked the Hollywood film industry. After brief discussions of his discovery of both Bing Crosby and W.C. Fields for the movies, Sennett tells of the terrible loss of his personal fortune in 1935 following the financial collapse of Paramount (through whom he was distributing his films at that point), but concludes the book on a happy note, mentioning the honorary Oscar he was presented with by his old gagman Frank Capra, and his surprise appearance on Ralph Edwards' "This is Your Life", where he was reunited with a number of familiar faces from his past.

Like many show business autobiographies, "King of Comedy" is more successful at evoking a time and place than it is with a meticulous record of the facts. Taken in that way, the book is an enjoyable personal account of Sennett's life in pictures that captures the spirit of the man and his own legend, and provides a window into the creation of an exciting art form.

Monday, May 11, 2015

Mickey (1918)


Produced by Mack Sennett as a feature-length starring vehicle for Mabel Normand, this is less a typical Sennett slapstick comedy, and more a genteel drama with elements of humor. The plot is fairly complicated: a struggling old California miner (George Nichols) is raising the orphaned daughter (Normand) of his old mining partner, and sends her to live with her aunt (Laura Lavarnie) on Long Island in order to make a lady out of her. Her romance with a handsome young miner (Wheeler Oakman) is threatened by the advances of a slimy playboy (Lew Cody) who is only interested in her newfound fortune earned from the mine.

Normand shines in this otherwise stock melodrama plot, bringing just the right mix of humor and charm to the title role, and proving herself equally adept at scenes of broad physical comedy and intimate, tender romance.  Her performance here -- under the expert direction of comedy veteran F. Richard Jones -- is a fine demonstration of her exceptional gifts as a comedienne and the qualities that made her one of the most popular stars of the period. In his autobiography, "King of Comedy", Sennett is quite proud of the film, which he conceived as a showcase for Normand (with whom he had been romantically involved, and was clearly still quite fond of), and was made just at the time that their association -- both personal and professional -- was coming to an end.

The film is available for viewing at the Internet Archive.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

The Curtain Pole (1909)


Early American slapstick comedy, directed by D.W. Griffith and starring future comedy producer Mack Sennett as a French dandy who goes in search of a new curtain pole to replace the one he has broken. Transporting the pole back through the streets, he proceeds to wreck everything in his path, causing the irate townspeople to give chase.

It is an atypical effort for Griffith, and a rather impersonal one, being just one of the many short subjects he directed for Biograph during this time (and shot on the streets of Fort Lee, NJ). While it demonstrates his penchant for rousing chase sequences, the staging and editing feel loose and rather clumsy compared to his best dramatic efforts of the period, though are certainly moments of effective slapstick (mostly involving Sennett in a runaway carriage). Clearly inspired by the French chase comedies of the Pathe company, it is mainly of interest now as a forerunner of the kind of screen comedy that its star would perfect at Keystone a few years later.