Country: United States
Language: English
Director: Norman Taurog
Writer: Norman Taurog
Stars: Lloyd Hamilton, Helen
Foster and Glen Cavender
Release Date: 25 July 1926 (USA)
Production Co: Lloyd Hamilton
Corporation
Sound Mix: Silent
Color: Black and White
Plot Keywords: Remake
Genres: Short | Comedy
This may well be the definitive
Lloyd Hamilton comedy. That's not to say that Move Along is the funniest or the
wildest of Ham's surviving films, but it's the one that best conveys his screen
persona: a Born Loser who tries to cope but is thwarted at every turn, a
well-meaning guy trapped in a world full of hostile cops, grasping landladies,
and passersby on the street who look at him and laugh for unknown reasons.
Hamilton's work doesn't suit all tastes. There's a strong element of melancholy
just under the surface—in fact, in this particular film the melancholia isn't
hidden at all, it's right out in the open—but he was a droll performer who is a
pleasure to watch, even when his screen alter ego suffers through one calamity
after another. Hamilton had a rich comic imagination, and his films are full of
clever gags that were often "borrowed" by other comedians
subsequently, but his films can be surprisingly sad and disturbing for two-reel
comedies. You laugh while watching this guy have the worst day of his life,
over and over again.
Move Along begins with an
introductory shot of our star that Harold Lloyd would rework in his talkie
feature Movie Crazy in 1932: Ham (whose character name is Walter Rawleigh here,
for some reason) appears to be riding in the back of a limo, chatting amiably
with a prosperous-looking gent in a top hat, but a long shot reveals that he is
riding alongside the limo in a humble horse-drawn cart. When the cart hits a
bump he's dumped into a puddle. It's soon clear that Walter is broke and
hungry, but he's no bum: when he sees that jobs are available at the employment
office he quickly gets in line. When a young woman comes along who looks even
more desperate than he is, however, Walter gallantly offers her his place in
line, and thus assures that she will get work while he is left out in the cold.
The young woman seems to be the only friendly person in the universe, and
offers him sincere thanks for his sacrifice. But Walter can't pause to savor
the moment, for a brutal cop keeps after him, clubbing him repeatedly and
barking "Move on!"
No sooner does Walter return to
his seedy apartment and flop on the bed but the landlady barges in and demands
the rent. Told that he can't pay, she enlists the help of two burly men who
roll Walter (still on his bed) outside and fling his meager belongings after
him. Undaunted, Walter establishes a residence of sorts on the sidewalk, under
the awning of a dry goods store that is closed for the night. When it begins to
rain he manages to deal with that, and when the rain turns to snow he deals
with that, too. Move Along turns increasingly surreal in this final section, as
Walter sets up housekeeping in public with the girl from the employment office.
The gags become cartoon-y as the atmosphere turns dreamlike, and we're not too
surprised when Walter's reverie turns out to be a dream after all, rudely
disrupted by that cop with his billy-club.
From this bare description the
film may sound unrelentingly bleak. Thanks to Hamilton's fertile comic
creativity there are steady laughs throughout, but there's no getting around
the fact that the laughs punctuate a story that is harsh and depressing. This
was the Lloyd Hamilton style, to find humor in the dark side of life, but I can
see why he's not everyone's cup of tea. Ham was a comedian, but he was not a
merry soul. It may be significant that, around the time Move Along was made,
Hamilton's messy personal life was tipping out of control. He would soon get
into serious difficulties that would precipitate a steep and irrevocable
decline. This short was produced at the pinnacle of Hamilton's career, just
prior to that downward slide, and stands as a testament to his talent and to
his Sad Clown screen persona.
Connections
Remake of The Vagrant (1921).
