Baby Mama

All right, here it is: BABY MAMA is laugh-out-loud funny.

Here's the setup: ridiculously hot Tina Fey is a career woman whose biological clock is ticking ... like ... this. Problem is, her doctor "doesn't like her uterus," and it looks like she'll never be able to carry a baby. Enter ridiculously hot (and surprisingly funny) Sigourney Weaver as Chafee Bicknell, proprietress of a first class surrogacy service. She matches rhTF with consistently funny Amy Poehler, whose white trash bonafides are cemented by her common-law marriage to ever entertaining Dax Shepard.

And away we go, in a class and culture and gender comedy that's consistently funny and perceptive. rhTF proves that not only can she sway an election, she can carry a movie. How much so? BABY MAMA features Steve Martin's best comedy work in years, and rhTF measures up to him in every frame. cfAP does great work with what could have been an elementary role, and eeDS and the rest of the supporting cast (including Maura Tierney, Romany Malco, Will Forte, Fred Armison, John Hodgeman, and the always likable Greg Kinnear as the love interest) are just plain first rate. The script casts a knowing comedic eye on pregnancy and love, and it manages to be simultaneously sharp, biting, and hilarious.

BABY MAMA is way funnier than I'd expected. It made me lose track of time and kept me chuckling right through the end credits. To those who were put off by the crass and dull trailer, be not deceived by the poor decisions of the marketing department. This picture is a winner.

The Strong Man

TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP is included on the DVD, "Harry Langdon: The Forgotten Clown," available from Netflix. The disc also features two Frank Capra -directed films, THE STRONG MAN and THE LONG PANTS. Yesterday, I saw THE STRONG MAN.

I generally like to take a movie head on. I try to view it, and write about it, on its own terms. But I'm having trouble thinking of Harry Langdon without thinking of the Big Three of silent comedy: Chaplin, Keaton, and Lloyd. As mentioned in my thoughts on TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP, Chaplin and Keaton both relied on physical virtuosity and precise planning in the execution of their films, while Lloyd seemed to put more stock in his charisma. Their efforts resulted in timeless films that haven't lost their ability to entertain generations later. Langdon, on the other hand, does not appear to have been particularly physically gifted. His set-pieces relied on editing and simple stagecraft to see them through. And the poor guy just wasn't as charismatic as he evidently thought he was. Seeing him mug his way through one situation after another isn't particularly amusing nor entertaining. Frankly, it's tiresome.

But hey, THE STRONG MAN gives you a chance to catch some early Capra.

The film opens with Langdon as a Belgian soldier on the Western Front. It's the strongest part of the piece, combining stock footage with character bits that establish the hapless Langdon as the little soldier who couldn't, really, but somehow managed to survive despite himself. Soon enough, the war is over, Langdon has emigrated to America, and Mary Astor is out to take advantage of him. But Langdon only has a heart for one girl, the American who sent him all those nice letters while he was at the front.

This Langdon is childlike, perhaps addled. As he blunders his way from one situation to the next on his path to his One True Love, we're invited to root for him, cry for him, laugh with him. Instead, we look at our watch. His character is so juvenile that we can't engage with him as a man, but he's too old for us to engage him as a boy. The set pieces don't amuse but do go on too long, and the whole thing just grinds.

Recommended for those interested in seeing Capra develop his craft; not many others.

Tramp, Tramp, Tramp

TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP stars Harry Langdon as the Harry Langdon character, a sad sack conveniently named Harry. In this incarnation, Harry's the son of a small town shoemaker who's losing out to shoe magnate John Burton. Burton's secret? A nationwide billboard campaign featuring his lovely daughter, Betty. When Burton dreams up a coast-to-coast walking race sponsored by his cobblery, Harry gets his big chance to enter the race. If he wins, not only does he get enough money to save Dad's business, he just might meet the Burton Shoes poster girl.

Never mind that Betty Burton is played by the terrifying Joan Crawford. The cross country race serves as a way too get our hero from one set piece to the next, though the pieces themselves work with varying degrees of success. Where Chaplin and Keaton could count on physical virtuosity (and meticulous planning) to execute their set pieces, Langdon relies on editing and charisma. When it comes to charisma, however, the guy's no Harold Lloyd. I never invested in Langdon's predicaments because I never invested in Langdon. Besides, how do you root for your hero to get the girl when the girl is dragon lady
Crawford?

For those looking to view this movie for some Crawfordish deliciousness, TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP is sadly lacking. She's your
generic love interest, falling for the star for no reason other than that he's the star.

TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP is a lesser silent comedy, one I'd recommend to Crawford completists and those interested in this era of film. To the general viewing audience, however, I say to give it a pass. There are better silents out there.