All language subtitles for RATSE2

Through a cardboard
door out of the past

steps a beaming moon
faced 23 year old comedian

named Oliver Norvell Hardy.

Oliver announces he's to be married

in this comedy called
Fatty's Fatal Fun.

Made two world wars ago in
1915 when life and the movies

were both much simpler.

Babe Hardy, as he was then known,

made a striking figure
in his striped pants

and cutaway coat.

And even plausible,
though plump, lover.

But he was an obscure
comedian in those days.

One of the unknown hundreds
who dashed madly about

in the deluge of minor comedies

that flooded the silent screen.

Fame, stardom and an immortal
partnership with Stan Laurel

lay some 12 long years
and uncountable pratfalls,

pins in the pants and
pies in the face ahead.

Young Stan Laurel looked like

this at the beginning of the decade,

which silent comedy at its height

was to make the laughing 20's.

Stan played a brash
patent medicine salesman

in Kill or Cure, one of his
early Hal Roach comedies.

Laurel, skilled at pantomime,

was polished at the
best of schools,

Fred Karno's English
Music Mall Company,

where he understudied
the star Charlie Chaplin.

Behind that bush mustache
lurks Oliver Hardy.

By the mid 20's Hardy had joined
the Hal Roach organization

where he continued to
play supporting roles

despite a mad studio search

for badly needed new comedy stars.

Vivien Oakland begins to
succumb to the musical charms

of her new border,
Milton the Mad Maestro.

In this 1926 blend of slapstick
and French bedroom farce

husband Glenn Tryon
completes the triangle

as Oliver fiddles
while Vivien burns.

Six months later Laurel and
Hardy were both to appear

in a Hal Roach comedy called
45 minutes from Hollywood,

but never in the same
scene together.

Stan is almost unrecognizable
behind that big black mustache

as an innocent hotel
guest harassed

by a pair of battling intruders.

Hardy clad in a sheet
is the house detective

struggling to break up the
fight by breaking down the door.

By the following year,
1927, Laurel and Hardy

had been cast together
several times

and were beginning to pair
up purely by accident.

In films like Sugar
Daddies can be seen

the gradual evolution

of one of the greatest
of comedy teams.

But four years in the names Laurel

and Hardy blazed from the screen.

Costars at last in
Putting Pants on Philip.

The first film billed to the
talents of Stanley and Oliver.

The plot was supremely simple.

Uncle Ollie had just met
nephew Stan at the boat.

Stan is visiting from Scotland

and the attention attracted
by his kilts

mightily embarrasses natty Hardy,

one of the 10 best dressed
men in upper Sandusky.

"Walk behind me," says
Oliver, "far behind."

Uncle Ollie pleads

with the rapidly growing
crowd to disperse.

With Hardy in the role of a sport

and Laurel as of all unthinkable
things a lady chaser,

Putting Pants on Philip differs

from the later Laurel
and Hardy films

for Stan and Oliver had
yet to invent

the fumbling derby
hatted characters

that were to make
them world famous.

Years later when his
career had ended

Stan Laurel was to name
this his favorite comedy.

Laurel and Hardy were old pros

who in hundreds of pictures

had thoroughly learned
the exacting job

of being silent screen comedians.

Laurel was in addition
a comedy innovator

and many of Stan and
Oliver's best gags

were to originate with him.

They worked without
pretension and for the moment.

Little dreaming that their
comedy would continue

to delight audiences
more than 20 years after

the camera stopped grinding

and the glee lights
flickered out.

Oliver dashed toward a building

which residents of the
Los Angeles area

have doubtless already recognized
as the Culver City Hotel.

Like so many Hal Roach comedies

Philip was shot with
an eye to economy

just a block or two
from the studio itself.

What's all the excitement
about, wonders Hardy.

The director of this first
Laurel and Hardy starring comedy

was Clyde Bruckman, a
master of the sight gag

who was also to direct Harold Lloyd.

The cameraman was George Stevens,

famous today as the producer
director of Shane, Giant

and The Greatest Story Ever Told.

"Hold it," says Uncle Oli,
"let me show you how."

"Just an old Scottish
custom," says Stanley.

"Just an old American
custom," says Oliver.

A swank dinner party is afoot
at the J. Medberry Frumps',

a newly rich couple just learning

to dog paddle in the social swim.

At the door a new butler and waiter

fresh from their triumphs
assistant deck swabs

at Dougan's Bean Wagon.

In the few months between
Putting Pants on Philip

and this comedy, called
From Soup to Nuts,

Laurel and Hardy had
found their derbies

and the characters
they were to play

for the rest of their movie lives.

"I have fallen down," admits Oliver.

The harassed hostess
is Anita Garvin,

one of the Hal Roach
studio's harem of girls

who could remain appealing

through every slapstick indignity.

"I have fallen down
again," Oliver confesses.

This tribute to the
cake bakers' art

was directed by E.
Livingston Kennedy,

better known as comedian
Edgar Kennedy,

master of the slow burn.

Host Frump, played by Tiny
Sandford grabs for a towel,

only it's not a towel,
it's Stanley's shirt.

In this moment of crises
Stanley takes command.

"Over here, double quick,"
says Anita.

"Did you gong Madame?"
asks the efficient Oliver.

Anita orders, "please have
the salad served, undressed."

Fastidious Hardy dishes up the soup

while greens man Laurel's
in the kitchen

preparing the salad.

Chip and Dale you made
the chairs too high.

Alert to every order Stan
serves the salad undressed.

Says Stanley to the host, "they
wanted it served undressed

"and that's the way
they're gonna get it."

In 1927 Jimmy Finlayson,
Laurel and Hardy,

and Charley Chase,
Hal Roach's top stars

in their only appearance together

improvised comedy on the spot

as carefree inmates
of the happy asylum.

In a mousetrap microphone
Charlie finds lunch.

Stan and Oliver as
William Tell and target.

The moral of this episode
is that if you think

you're a wheelbarrow you're
sure to get pushed around.

There's a home movie quality
to these silent clowns

cavorting on a long
departed sunny afternoon

on the Hal Roach lot.

Meeting an ocean liner
impatient Charley Chase

spots his lady love Viola
Richard on the upper deck.

Viola goes to the left.

Charlie follows and
fate's fickle finger

flicks man hating Anita
Garvin smack into his path.

Charley Chase was the silent
films' undisputed master

of the comedy of embarrassment.

He was also Hal Roach's
most popular player

until the skyrocketing success

of his old friends Laurel and Hardy

in the last years of
the laughing 20's.

"One minute," says Charlie.

"I forgot something important.

"My hat."

The impulse that cannot be denied.

They meet at last.

A veteran of the Roach lot
Charlie directed comedies

under his real name Charles Parrott

and starred as Paul
Parrott and Jimmy Jump

before becoming the dapper,
impulsive Charley Chase,

a character perfectly suited
for the jaunty jazz age.

In his yard chicken king Schultz

posed with his prize rooster,

grand champion at the
international poultry show.

On the other side of the fence

is Schultz's gardening neighbor

the beloved, beset Max Davidson

who like Charley Chase,
Laurel and Hardy

starred in his own
series of comedies

during the golden silent
days at the Roach studios.

If any vegetables grow around here

they'll grow inside Schultz's
seed gobbling chickens.

Naturally of all the chickens
Max grabs the champion

and naturally just at that moment

the terrible tempered Mr. Schultz

is looking through the fence.

Life, prosperity, flaming
youth and bathtub gin,

screen comedy was a
hallmark of the 1920's.

In the picture parade that
caused peels of laughter

to ring out of every
movie theater in the land

was Laurel and Hardy's Wrong Again,

written and directed by Leo McCarey

who later created such film
classics as Going My Way.

Stable hand Stan and Oliver
made the horses look smart.

Our masterminds overhear
there's a big reward

for the stolen Blue Boy.

There in the stable he is.

Quiet now, mustn't
give the game away.

They'll grab this reward
all for themselves.

Meanwhile detectives
Croveny and Greaves

apprehend the crooks
and recover Blue Boy,

the painting Blue Boy that is.

Croveny phones the good news

to millionaire owner
Augustus Paddle.

"Don't piddle paddle,"
orders Paddle.

"Bring that painting
over at once."

Stan and Oliver arrive
with the equine Blue Boy.

Paddle, who in the way
of the eccentric rich,

is taking his Saturday night
bath on Monday afternoon

throws down the keys.

"You mean in the house?" asks Hardy.

Expecting his painting,
Paddle says, "yes,"

never dreaming that this Blue
Boy has four hooves and a tail

and may not be house broken.

Paddle calls from the balcony,

"put Blue Boy on top of
the piano, would you mind?"

Stan who has been told
millionaires are peculiar

and think just the
reverse from other people

wouldn't mind in the least.

The Hal Roach studio
where this comedy was made

has been demolished joining
in limbo the Max Senate Studio

torn down some years before

and so both of America's
two greatest laugh factories

have disappeared from the scene.

A car arrives at the Paddle estate.

In it are Paddle's dowager mother,

detectives Croveny and Greaves

and the Blue Boy that doesn't whinny.

"Shh," cautions Oliver.

"Someone's coming, we'll
give them a big surprise."

"There's Blue Boy," thunders
Paddle, "what did you bring?"

"We made a slight mistake,"
laughs Oliver.

"Don't stop me," cries Paddle,

"read about the murder
in tomorrow's paper."

"No damage ma'am," reassures Croveny.

"Detective Greaves is only stunned."

Anders Randolph, a leading
villain of silent days,

took time off from supporting
such glamorous stars

as Greta Garbo to act as
a foil for Charley Chase.

Charley plays a type as common
as bad dreams at tax time,

the pest with the sneezes.

Sight gag comedy, the
great silent clowns

and fumeless smooth
riding trolley cars

like the one shown here
have all but disappeared.

Progress doesn't always
mean that things get better.

Charley is determined
to save Anders' life

if he as to kill him to do it.

Laurel and Hardy, contractors,
arrive to finish a house.

A New York Times editorial years later

was to remember skinny Stan the bow

playing against fat Oliver the fiddle

and recalled the gay ingenious
music they struck together.

In the finishing touch

the fiddle and the bow achieved
a symphony of sight gags

within a total orchestra
of just five people.

The owner approaches
the master builders

and offers them a bonus
if they finish on time.

"That we will," declares Oliver.

Nurse Dorothy Coburn complains
to cop Edgar Kennedy,

"you got the authority,

"make that track team over
there cut out the noise."

"Listen," says Kennedy,
"if you must make noise

"make it quietly, this
is a hospital zone."

Boss Hardy orders, "get
them nails out of the way."

"Who's in charge here,"
asks the nurse.

"Be quiet now or be quiet
forever," threatens Dorothy.

"Oh shut up," says Kennedy.

The law can take no
more but gets it anyway.

Through skill, sweat
and sheer chance

the house is finished on schedule.

The proud and happy
owner arrives to pay Stan

and Oliver their promised bonus.

The first bird of spring.

"Give me back my money,"
cries the owner.

Unfortunately the firm
of Laurel and Hardy

has a policy of no refunds.

The finishing touch.

Look who's moving into the house

that Laurel and Hardy built.

It's Max Davidson with
his wife Lillian Elliott

and his son Spec O'Donnell.

The neighbors gossip
about the new owners

of a home it took
five days to build

and five years to sell.

Not only does this
house have running water

it has leaping electricity.

A special linoleum for people
who change their minds.

If you don't like the
design just mop it off.

Mama calls to Max to
help move the piano.

In 1927 this comedy
Call of the Cuckoo

hit home to a lot of families

whose jerry-built dream castles
had turned to nightmares.

It still hits home today.

An approaching invasion of relatives.

"Is the floor crooked?"

Max brings in his spirit level.

The only way to straighten that floor

is to tilt the world.

The house warmers, their
goodwill is exceeded

only by their hearty appetites.

The arrival of relatives downstairs

gives Max the urge to
go for a bath upstairs.

In bursts the horde shouting

for directions to the dining room.

"Does your coffee taste
different lately?"

Says guest to wife,

"with this stuff and a
razor I could shave."

Youthful spirits liven
a dull afternoon.

Says Sophie to Samantha,

"if I weren't a lady I'd
belt you in the kisser."

"Not the telephone," cries Max.

"We'll be sued by AT&T."

The picture is called Liberty

and liberty is just
what Stan and Oliver

have foremost on their minds.

Written and directed by Leo McCarey,

this comedy was released in 1929

when Laurel and Hardy
had reached their peak.

Both the laughing 20's and the
golden age of silent comedy

were drawing to a close.

"We brought your clothes
from the old apartment,"

says Getaway Gus.

Stan has traveling trousers,
and Oliver's in a pinch.

"We'd better switch pants,"
says Hardy.

"Something bit me," whimpers Stanley.

"Something bit him," explains Oliver.

"Get to the ladder," directs Hardy,

who little realizes he's gotten
back not only his own pants,

but also an extremely lively
future seafood dinner.

"This is no time for pinching,"
cries crab nipped Oliver.

Producer Hal Roach was a past master

at that delicious blend
of comedy and terror

to be derived from peril in high places.

The ladder, Hardy's
idea of safety at last.

"Now why did you do that?"
asks Oliver.

Says Oliver to Stanley,
"hang onto this and relax."

In a classic comedy
called Dumb Daddies

Max Davidson demonstrates the dangers

of carrying a show window
mannequin across town.

The crowd wonders what
murderous Max has in that sack

and deduces that it's
got to be a body.

Officer Kennedy asks Max if he
saw a seedy guy with a sack.

"Is it yes or no?" cries
the exasperated Kennedy.

Into thin air.

"I'm ruined."

Along comes a gentleman
who has been picking up

too many glasses that were full

and setting down too many
glasses that are empty.

"Your leg Madam."

Now a finale of Laurel
and Hardy highlights

believed by some critics

to be among the screens
funniest moments.

In Double Whoopee the
prince of Pillenstein

to whom Erich von Stroheim
movies were mother's milk

brings old world glamour and
bad credit to a New York hotel.

"Speech, speech."

Yells the prince.

In my country this
would mean death.

In Leave 'Em Laughing
those madcaps motorists

Stan and Oliver overdose with
laughing gas at the dentist,

explode with mirth at
their homemade traffic jam.

That arm of the law
for every occasion,

Officer Kennedy, isn't amused.

"It's off to the station
house," explains Kennedy.

Climaxing Two Tars
Laurel and Hardy

drive into a railroad tunnel,

their worst possible
avenue of escape

from a band of pursuing
Sunday drivers.

In Habeas Corpus Oliver
the agile scales a wall.

In the Second Hundred Years
escaped convicts Stan and Ollie

prove they're painters by
smearing everything in sight.

The film, You're Darn Tootin

demonstrates Laurel and
Hardy's peculiar talent

for having their private
life embroil the whole town.

The battle of the century

transformed that old
slapstick standby

the pie in the face into Armageddon.

In We Faw Down the boys
are bathrobed innocents

drying off after getting wet
aiding two ladies in distress.

"Be bohemian," says Oliver.

At that moment of abandon
who should enter

but the lady's boyfriend, Vicious
Vincent, alias Nasty Nate.

Just passing by Laurel
and Hardy's wives,

human bloodhounds, master
hen peckers and crack shots.

Into the distance and into memory.

We will never see their like again.