All Fall Down: The Craft & Art of Physical Comedy

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by Jonathan Lyons

[Jonathan Lyons is an animator at Imagemovers Digital, and you can see his latest work in Disney's A Christmas Carol, starring Jim Carrey, in theatres everywhere right now. You can read his other guest posts here and here.]



When I was an adolescent living in New England, I was told that Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus ran a clown college in Florida. To me, that sounded like an excellent institution of higher education. Just about my speed.

Alas, one thing leads to another and the decades go by. I never made it to Clown College. I think perhaps it’s a good thing, as I am somewhat injury prone. I probably wouldn’t have lasted many years in the profession. Still, my love of physical comedy, and my curiosity about the art remains undiminished. I practice it in a virtual form, animation. Recently however, I had a chance to sample the real-world training of a physical actor.


I live in Marin County, California, and this past summer a new school opened up in San Fransisco, just across the Golden Gate Bridge. The Flying Actor Studio, operated by James Donlon and Leonard Pitt. They offer “physical theater training with world-class master teachers offering: movement, mime, mask, clown, circus arts, improvisation, voice, new performance.” They have an impressive list of guest instructors, including Geoff Hoyle, John Gilkey, Bill Irwin, Judy Finelli, and Suzanne Santos.

To kick off the opening of the school, they held a special performance with Donlon, Pitt, and Cirque du Soleil alumni, John Gilkey. The show was called “The Zany and the Surreal.” It featured rotating solo performances from the three actors. Donlon delivered some of his deeply felt mime, Pitt introduced some mask techniques and told an entertaining Jewish tale. John Gilkey’s pieces included his signature coat rack juggling routine, which I enjoyed watching in the Cirque du Soleil show Quidam.

The Flying Actor Studio is a full-service training facility offering everything from one-day workshops to a full-time, 28-week conservatory program. They also arrange special guest shows and workshops. This October they welcomed the International Czech Theater Festival, and held a clown workshop with Steve Capko. Among the workshops and classes they had the ideal opportunity for a working family man such as myself. “Meet the Flying Actor Studio Drop In Class”. Held on a Sunday, 10 am to 4pm, it is described like this:

“A survey of the Flying Actor Studio methods including improvisation, imagination, time, movement, mask, and mime. This class is offered on a sliding scale to make our classes accessible.”

I was happy to pay the high end of the $25 to $40 suggested price. It was more than reasonable for the experience. I and a handful of other participants warmed up with stretches in the bright loft space. Some of them were actors, at least one other was just curious like myself. James Donlon ran the morning half of the program. Among Mr. Donlon’s many teaching credits, was the Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Clown College. Finally, I would have my day! We did a variety of basic exercises in movement. He introduced the idea of “neutrality,” which I found intriguing. Neutrality in this case being a way of moving (or being still) that would offer no clues about the person. You wouldn’t be able to determine age, sex, state of mind, state of health, anything. Half of us would wear black hoods, to hide the face, while walking around the room in whatever fashion felt neutral to us, while the others would discuss what they saw. We did the same thing with sitting in a neutral position. While I would have thought that the class would be all about creating character, this exercise in removing character was just as informative. After that we practiced a variety of mime exercises, and by this time, I was beginning to sweat. It was a workout, and I would be sore the next day.

After a lunch break, Leonard Pitt took over the class. During Mr. Pitt’s 40 years of experience he has studied with Etienne Decroux, written several books, and been a movement consultant on major motion pictures. We started with an exercise between pairs of people locking eyes and moving back and forth as though on a rail. Building on that we expanded it to random group movement, quickly switching to pairs. The exercise involved focused attention, and physically grabbing attention from others by just turning towards them. I can see where it would be a useful exercise for the stage movement. Following that, Mr. Pitt introduced us to the basics of using masks. It was interesting to learn that mask work is not so much about movement, but about posture and posing, and also eye direction. This is useful stuff for an animator.

Thanks to James and Leonard for setting up such an accessible, educational and enjoyable program. Good luck to them and their venture.

Click here for more information about the Flying Actor Studio.

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You've probably all seen (I hope!) the brilliantly provocative movie Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan, starring Sacha Baron Cohen. Here's a short (2:16) physical comedy clip that's not from the movie, but from one of his Borat skits on season one of Da Ali G Show.

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Charley Bowers: The Rediscovery of an American Comic Genius
Co-produced by Image Entertainment (USA) and Lobster Films (France)
2-disc DVD; run time 149 mins.
2004

Several DVDs have come out in the past year or two that I should be blogging about, multi-disc sets of the work of Harry Langdon, Douglas Fairbanks, and Charley Chase, for example. Instead, I want to do some catching up and write about a DVD set that came out five years ago on the work of Charley Bowers (1889 – November 26, 1946) . Why? Because it’s exciting stuff, and because today is Thanksgiving and it was on this day 63 years ago that Bowers passed away in almost total obscurity. Let's see if I can show you why we should be thankful for his life's work.

I suspect that most of you are saying “who in the hell is Charley Bowers?” In brief, he was a cartoonist, animator, and silent film comedian who, between 1926 and 1931, created a series of short films (no features), sometimes labeled “novelty comedies,” that combined live action with stop-motion animation, and that display a unique comic imagination. While much of silent film comedy exhibits a certain formulaic sameness, Bowers is a refreshingly original thinker whose work I think you’ll love.


Bowers' name does not even appear in many of the standard books on the silent era, such as Walter Kerr’s The Silent Clowns, and the reason is simply that his oeuvre was lost for decades. Bowers was popular enough in his day to be able to write, animate, and usually star in over twenty movies for R-C Pictures and Educational Pictures, but by the time Keaton, Chaplin, et. al were being appreciated anew in the 60s and 70s, his name had long been forgotten.

The story of his rediscovery is told on a 16-minute documentary on disc 2 of the DVD. Raymond Borde of the Toulouse (France) Cinémathèque was a relentless collector of old films. He knew that traveling carnival acts would often open performances by showing a short American silent film comedy, so he would buy these from them whenever he could, paying for reels by the kilo, sight unseen. He hit the jackpot one day when a rusted cannister of films he bought from a gypsy family turned out to contain three films by Bowers. The only problem was that instead of being attributed to Charley Bowers, the sole credit was to Bricolo, the French name for his movie character. No one knew who this Bricolo was, and years went by without any progress. The films were even shown in a retrospective at the 1976 Annecy (France) film festival, without anyone yet knowing this was the work of Charley Bowers.


One day this ad in an old film directory was discovered, providing the link between Bricolo and Charley Bowers. This eventually led to a film historian in Montreal who had some slight knowledge of him and to a folder of info buried away at the Library of Congress. More information was uncovered, as were more films, but there are still eleven lost films, and the details of his life are few. The only account of his early years is from a 1928 press bio that seems too colorful to be true: he was born in 1889, the son of a French countess and an Irish doctor. When he was five, a tramp circus clown taught him tightrope. At age six, he was kidnapped by a circus. When he finally made it back home two years later, the shock killed his father.

Hmm..

What we do know is that between 1916 and 1926 he wrote, produced, and directed hundreds of cartoon film shorts based on the Mutt & Jeff comic strips. At some point he made the transition from these hand-drawn cel animations to stop-motion animation, in which you move or manipulate a physical object a small amount, recording a single frame so that when the movie is played back the object appears to move at normal speed. Here are two brief clips about an automated restaurant that show this transition. The first is from one of his Mutt & Jeff cartoons, Grill Room Express (1918, aka The Extra Quick Lunch), the second from He Done His Best (1926).







In 1926, he began combining stop-motion animation with live action, and there are historical references to the "Bowers process" and to a "Bowers camera" that he invented precisely for this purpose, but so far I haven't uncovered any info on this. Bowers has been credited by some with being the first filmmaker to develop this hybrid form. This may not strictly be true, but the extent to which he did this, and the overall technical level of both the animation and the live action was very likely groundbreaking for 1926. In fact, the story has it that a scene where a herd of elephants seem to enter the Capitol building in Washington, D.C. so fooled people that certain muckety-mucks demanded an official investigation.



Before going any further, let's get more of a taste of his work. (Both of these next two clips are on YouTube, but there's not much more of his work up there.) First is a sample of Bowers the silent film comedian from Egged On (1926), the earliest film we have of this hybrid form. The live action star is none other than Charlie Bowers, playing an eccentric, misunderstood outsider whose persona has been compared to that of Keaton. (As a performer he's no Keaton, but he gets the job done.) Charley the eccentric inventor can't pay the rent, but he's on the verge of riches with his invention of the unbreakable egg. His approach to selling his invention is a good example of Bower's offbeat sense of humor.



The second clip, from his only sound film, the 1931 It's a Bird, showcases his amazing animation talents. An expedition to deepest, darkest Africa has netted Charley a rare metal-eating bird, which he hopes will prove to be his road to riches:





A Bowers film tends to follow the same general formula. Charley is an eccentric but brilliant inventor, a 1920s Doc Brown, only Bowers is younger and counting on his creations to help him escape poverty and win the girl. To solve the predicament at hand, he typically throws together a Rube Goldberg contraption from spare parts that somehow performs miracles that defy the laws of science. His character's French name, Bricolo, is from the French verb bricoler, to tinker, and the French noun bricolage, do-it-yourself. Bricolo's invention always works, but his ultimate success can still be thwarted by unforeseen twists of fate. One aspect of his films I particularly enjoyed is the unpredictability of his endings. The first one I watched did not end well for Charley, so I assumed the stories would always be aiming for Chaplinesque pathos. The next film, however, was the opposite, more along the lines of a Keaton or Lloyd ultimate vindication finale. He keeps you guessing.

Bowers attracted the attention of André Bréton, leader of the surrealist movement, who wrote of It's a Bird! that it "took us away, for the first time, our eyes opened to the dull sensory distinction of reality and legend, to the heart of the black star.” (Those surrealists sure had a way with words.) And in his Fifty Year Surrealist Almanac (1950), Breton listed the one film that had meant the most to him each year, and It’s a Bird! was one of those films, as was Duck Soup for 1933.

Bowers' movies are uneven affairs, a bit choppy, what with the combination of elements, and at times the storytelling can come to a screeching halt while he shows off with lengthy animation sequences. In his best moments, however, Bowers' humor is wonderfully quirky and even downright brilliant. At one point his character says “sometimes I nearly ran out of ideas,” but with Bowers the opposite is the case, his head bursting with wild premises. There he is, struggling to invent a non-slippery banana peel, or trying to win a Charleston contest by taking a correspondence course.

His physical comedy always goes one step further. His sweetheart's cop father doesn't throw him out the door, he throws him thru the door. In A Wild Roomer, he tows an entire staircase out of a house — by accident. I'm pretty sure he has the highest WDR (wall destruction ratio) of any silent film comedian.

Bowers also does not shy from social commentary. In Fatal Footsteps, he satirizes uptight townspeople who are fighting the popularity of social dancing, and particularly the upcoming charleston contest. The name of the town is not subtle: Dumbville. Sam, the leader of the opposition is exposed as a hypocrite, but even he is eventually converted to the joys of cutting a rug when he accidentally puts on Charley's latest invention, a pair of automated dancing shoes.



By movie's end, Sam is getting his fellow old fogies to dance, and the final shot of the film is a fish dancing in its bowl.

Another example is the ending to Now You Tell One, one of my favorite Bowers movies, but I won't spoil it for you since you can watch it below. It all starts at a meeting of a "Liar's Club." The head of the club is disappointed in the stories the members are coming up with. Stumbling on Charley and his story, he brings him to the club to tell it. Beginning of the movie within the movie.


It seems Charley fell for this girl and when he visited her house he discovered a sad picture. The girl's house is seriously overrun with mice. The woodwork is full of holes and collapsing, the father gone batty from the onslaught. The sole cat is battered and beaten down. Charley moves in and sets to work developing a breed of more robust cats to fight the infestation. Here's the rest of the movie:





There are a few hours of this on the DVD, so check it out. It looks like it's on back order from most DVD vendors, but it is available on NetFlix.

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

_______________________

Disc One
Egged On (1926; 24:08)
He Done His Best (1926; 23:42)
A Wild Roomer (1927; 24:27)
Fatal Footsteps (1926; 22:20)
Now You Tell One (1926; 22:21)
Many a Slip (1927; 11:35)
Nothing Doing (1927; 21:13)
Disc Two
Grill Room Express (1918; 5:36) [alternate title: The Extra-Quick Lunch]
A.W.O.L. (1918; 5:24 )
Say Ah-h (1928; 14:03 = part 2 only)
It's a Bird (1930; 14:09 )
Believe it or Don't (1935; 7:55 )
Pete Roleum & his Cousins (1939; 15:38)
Wild Oysters (1941; 10:07)
A Sleepless Night (1940; 11:00)
Special Features
Photo Album slideshow (1:45)
Looking for Charley Bowers (15:43)

Dates are from imdb.com.

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I'm sure you've all seen the Marx Brothers movies several times over — and if not, what are you waiting for?? — but all the more reason to celebrate today being the birthday of Harpo (November 23, 1888 – September 28, 1964), the Marx Brothers' most physical performer and purest clown.

In an attempt to show something that might be new to at least some of you, here are ten somewhat odd clips. They're mostly from the documentaries The Marx Brothers Collection: Mixed Nuts (2003) and Inside the Marx Brothers (also 2003) Both are available on Netflix, the latter on instant play as well.

1. Harpo (without his brothers) as the "village Peter Pan" in the 1925 silent movie, Too Many Kisses, in which he speaks his only line ever in a film. Of course you have to read it on a title card because it's a silent film!




2. Harpo with his brothers in the opening scene from their 1924 Broadway musical revue, I'll Say She Is, in rhyming couplets no less, recreated for film in 1931. Harpo does not enter until the 2:26 point.




3. At poolside with all three brothers:




4. A few moments of Harpo performing in Moscow during his six weeks as a goodwill ambassador to the Soviet Union in 1933.




5. A rare Marx Brothers stunt in The Big Store (1941), though not a very convincing one. I'm assuming the first shot is done by stunt doubles, with the Harpo character being wired. The second shot, where we don't even see the unicycle wheel, could easily have been done on a stationary bicycle traveling on a dolly.




6. Next is a brief appearance by Harpo in Stage Door Canteen, a 1943 star-studded World War II morale booster.




7. This chasing after young women, honking away on his horn, became a Harpo trademark, but ironically he was the only Marx brother to stay married to the same woman till death did them part. Here's a touch of family life.




8. You've probably seen Harpo and Lucille Ball reprise the broken mirror routine for television, but maybe you missed the the footage that comes before and after. Harpo chasing Lucy and then Ethel seems pretty risqué for 1955 television!





9. Harpo (and Chico) make commercials.




10. Last clip, from a failed sitcom pilot, Deputy Seraph. Kind of depressing to hear some director telling them how to act. There's more footage from this on YouTube.




Cool Links
• Check out the Harpo Marx Tribute Site and sign their petitions to preserve the original home of the Marx Brothers on East 93rd St. in Manhattan, and to co-name that street Marx Brothers Place. They have some clips of Harpo speaking, such as this recording, apparently from tapes made for the writing of his memoirs.
• And click here for a good Marx Brothers site.

Last and definitely least...

Irrelevant-Two-Degrees-of-Separation Department
Harpo worked with Kitty Carlisle in A Night at the Opera, and she was a panelist 41 years later when I appeared on To Tell the Truth promoting my book Clowns. (She said my smile was a dead giveaway that I was the clown.)

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Hey guys, imagine you lived in a city where every move you made was a death-defying Hollywood stunt. Well, if you think that might get you a little wet under the arms, then you need Rexona, the man's deodorant. That's what I learned from this funny enough commercial, Stunt City. It was filmed in Australia for a UK audience and won a Gold Lion at the Cannes Lions International Advertising Festival in 2005. Directed by Ivan Zacharias; visual effects by The Mill.