Marc Chevalier
Gone Home
- Messages
- 18,192
- Location
- Los Feliz, Los Angeles, California
Matt, you're right; all of you are right. Keaton was sublime.
But Harold Lloyd ... the fella with the glasses ... holds a special place. Lloyd's persona was a 1920s version of many of us: a pleasant-looking guy with a flaw (poor eyesight), striving for middle-class (or higher) stability and respectability, and living firmly in his time ("the Age of Ballyhoo") and place (small town and big city America). The Man with the Glasses made a fool of himself in the most typical situations of modern life (at an amusement park, on a subway train), yet he never let anyone make a fool of him and get away with it. In other words, Harold Lloyd was a proto-Bugs Bunny: he always had the last laugh (which is precisely what we want to have in our own lives)!
At the height of his career, Lloyd was one of the most popular and highest-paid stars of his time, whose films made (in today's money) more than a billion dollars. While his achievements have been overshadowed by the work of contemporaries Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton, he made more films than the two of them combined. With hits like his 1922 film "Grandma’s Boy", Lloyd became a strong force in bringing about the advent of the "feature-length" film.
Born in Nebraska in 1894, Lloyd’s stage career began at the age of 12. Although he had none of Chaplin’s or Keaton’s childhood Vaudeville training, the young Nebraskan had a natural talent that led him to make the most dangerous tumbles and falls seem effortless. In 1913, Lloyd moved with his father to Los Angeles, where the motion picture industry was still in its infancy. There he tried desperately to break into show business, taking any small part he could get. Lloyd soon made friends with another extra, Hal Roach, who was putting together his own production company. In a short while the company had taken off and was making movies featuring Lloyd as "Lonesome Luke," a Chaplin-inspired bumbler. While "Lonesome Luke" was popular, Lloyd knew his mimicry of Chaplin was inevitably a dead end.
In 1917, Lloyd began work on a new character, one that was to remain a signature through out his career. With round glasses, a straw boater and a mail-order suit, this new invention still had many of the qualities associated with Chaplin’s "Little Tramp", but something was different. Lloyd's persona seemed both the fool and the fox, able to outsmart the bad guy (though only by a hair). In 1919, at the height of his acclaim, a tragedy struck. While posing for a studio photograph, Lloyd was handed what he imagined to be a fake bomb and lit it with a cigarette. The excessive smoke, strange for a papier-mache prop, made Lloyd realize that the photograph would suffer. He figured that they'd try again, with another "bomb" prop -- as he reached to place the first bomb on the table, it exploded.
The force of the blast tore a hole in the sixteen-foot ceiling of the studio. The photographer fainted. Lloyd, still in his mark, didn't register what happened until moments later, when the pain just started to set in. He described his face as "raw meat." He couldn't see out of either eye after the blast. However, more painful was the permanent reminder of this fateful day: the thumb and forefinger of his right hand were severed.
Lloyd was rushed to the Methodist Hospital, which would be his home for the next month and a half. His eyesight eventually returned, but for a while the doctors feared for his right eye. Physicians also worried that gangrene might set in on his face, and the gashes in his lips produced cracks that were very painful. Lloyd noted that "the pain was considerable, but trivial compared with my mental state." He had good reason to be worried. The story was front-page news and it seemed the end of this daredevil’s career.
Never the quitter, Lloyd bounced back and made dozens more films, among them his best and most highly acclaimed, including "Safety Last" (1923) and "Speedy" (1928). Even into the talkies era, Lloyd persisted while many other silent movie stars threw in the towel. In 1971, twenty-three years after his last feature film, he died in his Hollywood mansion.
From his early black-and-white shorts to his full-length talkies, Lloyd recognized that humor was nothing without a sense of play. Athletic and rigorous, he could fall from a window as well as he could scale a wall. It was said that Lloyd was not a natural comedian, rather, that he was a great actor playing comedic roles. His ability to create multi-dimensional characters, both funny and moving, has helped to shape our contemporary view of what a comic actor can be.
Lloyd also understood the role fear could play in heightening comedy. One day while on his way to the studio, he watched a man scaling the side of a building. Crowds had gathered around and were completely consumed by the sight of the climber. Lloyd knew that if he could keep an audience on the edge of their seats like this, he could make them laugh even harder. So, using the tricks of photographic perspective, he began to shoot scenes that looked as if they were happening on the sides of buildings, on scaffoldings, or hanging from clocks. These acrobatic hijinks seemed amazingly real in a time before special effects. More than simply renewing the audience’s interest in his work, these progressive techniques earned him the respect of others in the film industry.
Looking at the other films of the time and at the progress of comic acting and cinematography since, it is clear that Lloyd’s inspired work was an essential part in the growth of the industry. In his brilliant 1923 epic, "Girl Shy", Lloyd employed many of the high-action comic bits that made him famous. In its climactic chase scene, we recognize the beginnings of the action film genre, and can see the influence on movies from "Ben Hur" to "Speed". While Harold Lloyd’s name had -- until recently -- all but been forgotten by the public, this Nebraskan's spirit lives on in the movie industry he helped to create.
But Harold Lloyd ... the fella with the glasses ... holds a special place. Lloyd's persona was a 1920s version of many of us: a pleasant-looking guy with a flaw (poor eyesight), striving for middle-class (or higher) stability and respectability, and living firmly in his time ("the Age of Ballyhoo") and place (small town and big city America). The Man with the Glasses made a fool of himself in the most typical situations of modern life (at an amusement park, on a subway train), yet he never let anyone make a fool of him and get away with it. In other words, Harold Lloyd was a proto-Bugs Bunny: he always had the last laugh (which is precisely what we want to have in our own lives)!
At the height of his career, Lloyd was one of the most popular and highest-paid stars of his time, whose films made (in today's money) more than a billion dollars. While his achievements have been overshadowed by the work of contemporaries Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton, he made more films than the two of them combined. With hits like his 1922 film "Grandma’s Boy", Lloyd became a strong force in bringing about the advent of the "feature-length" film.
Born in Nebraska in 1894, Lloyd’s stage career began at the age of 12. Although he had none of Chaplin’s or Keaton’s childhood Vaudeville training, the young Nebraskan had a natural talent that led him to make the most dangerous tumbles and falls seem effortless. In 1913, Lloyd moved with his father to Los Angeles, where the motion picture industry was still in its infancy. There he tried desperately to break into show business, taking any small part he could get. Lloyd soon made friends with another extra, Hal Roach, who was putting together his own production company. In a short while the company had taken off and was making movies featuring Lloyd as "Lonesome Luke," a Chaplin-inspired bumbler. While "Lonesome Luke" was popular, Lloyd knew his mimicry of Chaplin was inevitably a dead end.
In 1917, Lloyd began work on a new character, one that was to remain a signature through out his career. With round glasses, a straw boater and a mail-order suit, this new invention still had many of the qualities associated with Chaplin’s "Little Tramp", but something was different. Lloyd's persona seemed both the fool and the fox, able to outsmart the bad guy (though only by a hair). In 1919, at the height of his acclaim, a tragedy struck. While posing for a studio photograph, Lloyd was handed what he imagined to be a fake bomb and lit it with a cigarette. The excessive smoke, strange for a papier-mache prop, made Lloyd realize that the photograph would suffer. He figured that they'd try again, with another "bomb" prop -- as he reached to place the first bomb on the table, it exploded.
The force of the blast tore a hole in the sixteen-foot ceiling of the studio. The photographer fainted. Lloyd, still in his mark, didn't register what happened until moments later, when the pain just started to set in. He described his face as "raw meat." He couldn't see out of either eye after the blast. However, more painful was the permanent reminder of this fateful day: the thumb and forefinger of his right hand were severed.
Lloyd was rushed to the Methodist Hospital, which would be his home for the next month and a half. His eyesight eventually returned, but for a while the doctors feared for his right eye. Physicians also worried that gangrene might set in on his face, and the gashes in his lips produced cracks that were very painful. Lloyd noted that "the pain was considerable, but trivial compared with my mental state." He had good reason to be worried. The story was front-page news and it seemed the end of this daredevil’s career.
Never the quitter, Lloyd bounced back and made dozens more films, among them his best and most highly acclaimed, including "Safety Last" (1923) and "Speedy" (1928). Even into the talkies era, Lloyd persisted while many other silent movie stars threw in the towel. In 1971, twenty-three years after his last feature film, he died in his Hollywood mansion.
From his early black-and-white shorts to his full-length talkies, Lloyd recognized that humor was nothing without a sense of play. Athletic and rigorous, he could fall from a window as well as he could scale a wall. It was said that Lloyd was not a natural comedian, rather, that he was a great actor playing comedic roles. His ability to create multi-dimensional characters, both funny and moving, has helped to shape our contemporary view of what a comic actor can be.
Lloyd also understood the role fear could play in heightening comedy. One day while on his way to the studio, he watched a man scaling the side of a building. Crowds had gathered around and were completely consumed by the sight of the climber. Lloyd knew that if he could keep an audience on the edge of their seats like this, he could make them laugh even harder. So, using the tricks of photographic perspective, he began to shoot scenes that looked as if they were happening on the sides of buildings, on scaffoldings, or hanging from clocks. These acrobatic hijinks seemed amazingly real in a time before special effects. More than simply renewing the audience’s interest in his work, these progressive techniques earned him the respect of others in the film industry.
Looking at the other films of the time and at the progress of comic acting and cinematography since, it is clear that Lloyd’s inspired work was an essential part in the growth of the industry. In his brilliant 1923 epic, "Girl Shy", Lloyd employed many of the high-action comic bits that made him famous. In its climactic chase scene, we recognize the beginnings of the action film genre, and can see the influence on movies from "Ben Hur" to "Speed". While Harold Lloyd’s name had -- until recently -- all but been forgotten by the public, this Nebraskan's spirit lives on in the movie industry he helped to create.
