Stan & Ollie
Jan. 22nd, 2019 11:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shewhomustAnother week, another movie - another 'portrait of the artist' movie, too, though this time it's not a portrait of a young woman just starting out, but a double portrait of two aging men (they are both in their 60s) at the end of their careers. I didn't choose to watch it as a companion piece to Colette, I 'chose' to watch it because it was showing at my local cinema - but the more I think about it, the more the two films counterpoint each other in my mind. Full disclosure: the cinema obligingly provided an early evening screening on Wednesday, our preferred timing as it allows us to see a movie, walk up the hill and get something to eat at the Elm Tree before quiz time. But I don't think that's the only reason why I feel kindly to Stan & Ollie.
It is, for a start, a very kindly film. The advance publicity had me prepared for something downbeat: two fading stars, their period of success behind them, reunited after a long separation following a quarrel to undertake a gruelling tour of Britain's smaller and less glamorous venues while their promoter seems more preoccupied with his up-and-coming star (Norman Wisdom). That's not entirely false, but it's not entirely true, either.
The film starts with the duo arriving at their first night's accommodation, the Bottle & Glass Inn - actually in the Black Country Museum but located, for the purposes of the film, under the Tyne Bridge, and in the rain for good measure. They are greeted as stars by the daughter of the proprietors, who cannot believe that they are appearing not at the Theatre Royal (a real theatre) but at the Queen's Hall (which I don't recognise). Initially, the audiences are sparse even in these smaller venues, but when they tell promoter Bernard Delfont that they are prepared to make promotional appearances, things change, and they are soon attracting huge crowds. I didn't know the exact facts, and wondered whether the contrast had been played up for dramatic effect - one reason for my desire to identify details of place - and was interested to find an article in The Stage which suggests some possible reasons for something which did, indeed, actually happen.
I was inclined to believe what I was being told, anyway, because Steve Coogan and John C. Reilly as Laurel and Hardy are so extraordinarily persuasive. This is the heart of the film. The other characters are by no means two-dimensional: there's a second double act in the interplay of the two wives, and Rufus Jones is a nuanced and charming Delfont. Only Steve Coogan was already familiar to me, which may be why his performance is the one that stands out for me. Also, Stan Laurel, the local boy, the creative force behind the partnership, the thinker who cast himself as the fool, what's not to like? But both Coogan and Reilly combine pitch-perfect renditions of the duo's stage personas (into which they would, it seems, drop at the slightest provocation) with a touching portrayal of two men finding a deep affection for each other late in their joint career.
Which brings me back to where I came in. Colette demonstrates a double act gone toxic: Colette has all the talent, but Willy has the commercial contacts and the nous that make her work a hit, and he clings to the power that gives him until their relationship is destroyed. Stan & Ollie shows the sheer joy of a double act where both partners appreciate what the other contributes, without arguing over whether those contributions are equal. Stan originates the material, but when Ollie is hospitalised, he cannot perform it with anyone else. I've never been a Laurel & Hardy fan, preferring my humour more verbal: but this made me see how I might become one.
It is, for a start, a very kindly film. The advance publicity had me prepared for something downbeat: two fading stars, their period of success behind them, reunited after a long separation following a quarrel to undertake a gruelling tour of Britain's smaller and less glamorous venues while their promoter seems more preoccupied with his up-and-coming star (Norman Wisdom). That's not entirely false, but it's not entirely true, either.
The film starts with the duo arriving at their first night's accommodation, the Bottle & Glass Inn - actually in the Black Country Museum but located, for the purposes of the film, under the Tyne Bridge, and in the rain for good measure. They are greeted as stars by the daughter of the proprietors, who cannot believe that they are appearing not at the Theatre Royal (a real theatre) but at the Queen's Hall (which I don't recognise). Initially, the audiences are sparse even in these smaller venues, but when they tell promoter Bernard Delfont that they are prepared to make promotional appearances, things change, and they are soon attracting huge crowds. I didn't know the exact facts, and wondered whether the contrast had been played up for dramatic effect - one reason for my desire to identify details of place - and was interested to find an article in The Stage which suggests some possible reasons for something which did, indeed, actually happen.
I was inclined to believe what I was being told, anyway, because Steve Coogan and John C. Reilly as Laurel and Hardy are so extraordinarily persuasive. This is the heart of the film. The other characters are by no means two-dimensional: there's a second double act in the interplay of the two wives, and Rufus Jones is a nuanced and charming Delfont. Only Steve Coogan was already familiar to me, which may be why his performance is the one that stands out for me. Also, Stan Laurel, the local boy, the creative force behind the partnership, the thinker who cast himself as the fool, what's not to like? But both Coogan and Reilly combine pitch-perfect renditions of the duo's stage personas (into which they would, it seems, drop at the slightest provocation) with a touching portrayal of two men finding a deep affection for each other late in their joint career.
Which brings me back to where I came in. Colette demonstrates a double act gone toxic: Colette has all the talent, but Willy has the commercial contacts and the nous that make her work a hit, and he clings to the power that gives him until their relationship is destroyed. Stan & Ollie shows the sheer joy of a double act where both partners appreciate what the other contributes, without arguing over whether those contributions are equal. Stan originates the material, but when Ollie is hospitalised, he cannot perform it with anyone else. I've never been a Laurel & Hardy fan, preferring my humour more verbal: but this made me see how I might become one.
no subject
Date: 2019-01-22 07:55 pm (UTC)I've been wanting to see this movie ever since it opened everywhere but apparently where I live, but this only makes it more so.
no subject
Date: 2019-01-23 08:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-01-23 07:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-01-23 08:16 pm (UTC)