This amusing two-reel comedy is one of several made by Harry Langdon for the Hal Roach Studio, at the dawn of the talkie era. The quirky comedian, a great favorite with audiences just a few years earlier, had fallen on hard times and was going through a rough patch in his career. Even before the talkie revolution he'd been dropped from First National's roster after one too many flops; now, during the 1929-30 season, he badly needed to establish himself as a draw in talkies.
I've seen several of the short comedies Langdon made for Roach. They're a mixed lot, but I'd say The Fighting Parson is one of the best. The Western setting works well for Harry, and the gags are pretty good, but what I really like about it—and what makes it special as a sound attraction—is that it shows off Langdon's musical abilities. In his very first scene, as a passenger on a stagecoach, Harry plays a jaunty banjo number and sings in his thin, piping voice. When he finishes, he holds out his hand for tips, but his fellow passengers are unmoved. Once he arrives at his destination, a saloon in a hardscrabble town, the musical performance continues. Through a mix-up, Harry is mistaken for the new parson. The townspeople expect him to lead them in "Rock of Ages," but instead he launches into a peppy rendition of "Frankie and Johnny," followed by an eccentric dance. Langdon spent many years in vaudeville before he entered the movies, and this pleasant sequence gives us a glimpse of what he learned in his stage days.
The plot of The Fighting Parson is both rudimentary and familiar: once we get past the mistaken identity business (reminiscent of Chaplin's The Pilgrim), Harry stumbles into a conflict with a local bully over a young lady, who was abducted and forced to work as a dance hall girl. For the finale, Harry and the bully settle their differences in an impromptu boxing match, highlighted by a surreal sight gag involving Harry's use of fake arms. Admittedly, some of the gags along the way are familiar from earlier Langdon films. For instance, when he accidentally consumes tobacco and becomes woozy, fans will be reminded of similar bits in The Luck o' the Foolish and His Marriage Wow. The ride in the stagecoach, surrounded by unfriendly people, recalls Harry's memorable bus trip in The Strong Man, and the lowdown dance hall milieu is a reminder of that film, too. But there's nothing wrong with reworking old bits in a new setting—everyone did that, including Chaplin. What's nice about The Fighting Parson is that it recaptures a little of that old Langdon magic, the unique quality that made his best silent comedies for Sennett and First National so enjoyable.
I've seen several of the short comedies Langdon made for Roach. They're a mixed lot, but I'd say The Fighting Parson is one of the best. The Western setting works well for Harry, and the gags are pretty good, but what I really like about it—and what makes it special as a sound attraction—is that it shows off Langdon's musical abilities. In his very first scene, as a passenger on a stagecoach, Harry plays a jaunty banjo number and sings in his thin, piping voice. When he finishes, he holds out his hand for tips, but his fellow passengers are unmoved. Once he arrives at his destination, a saloon in a hardscrabble town, the musical performance continues. Through a mix-up, Harry is mistaken for the new parson. The townspeople expect him to lead them in "Rock of Ages," but instead he launches into a peppy rendition of "Frankie and Johnny," followed by an eccentric dance. Langdon spent many years in vaudeville before he entered the movies, and this pleasant sequence gives us a glimpse of what he learned in his stage days.
The plot of The Fighting Parson is both rudimentary and familiar: once we get past the mistaken identity business (reminiscent of Chaplin's The Pilgrim), Harry stumbles into a conflict with a local bully over a young lady, who was abducted and forced to work as a dance hall girl. For the finale, Harry and the bully settle their differences in an impromptu boxing match, highlighted by a surreal sight gag involving Harry's use of fake arms. Admittedly, some of the gags along the way are familiar from earlier Langdon films. For instance, when he accidentally consumes tobacco and becomes woozy, fans will be reminded of similar bits in The Luck o' the Foolish and His Marriage Wow. The ride in the stagecoach, surrounded by unfriendly people, recalls Harry's memorable bus trip in The Strong Man, and the lowdown dance hall milieu is a reminder of that film, too. But there's nothing wrong with reworking old bits in a new setting—everyone did that, including Chaplin. What's nice about The Fighting Parson is that it recaptures a little of that old Langdon magic, the unique quality that made his best silent comedies for Sennett and First National so enjoyable.