The Fatal Glass of Beer

With an effective blend of the subtle and the outlandish, this comedy is one of the most memorable and distinctive of W. C. Fields's short movies. It works well both as a spoof of movie-making techniques (especially from, but hardly limited to, the old melodramas), and also as a showcase for Fields's array of comic skills. There is the silly song about "The Fatal Glass of Beer", plenty of sight gags, the recurring "ain't a fit night out" gag, and more.

It all works even better when you watch it over again - Fields can be so unpredictable that you don't notice all the subtleties when you're still trying to figure out where it's all going. This one has plenty of good moments and also, despite its deceptively simple appearance, some careful craftsmanship.

I grew up during the '60s, when Fields was in vogue as a rebel along the lines of Bogart or Brando. Nevertheless, I didn't find myself laughing nearly as much at his feature films "The Bank Dick", "My Little Chickadee", or "You Can't Cheat an Honest Man" as at those of Keaton or the Marx Brothers. It wasn't until the '90s that I happened across this short, which finally convinced me that Fields was a comic genius.

With its absurd juxtaposition of dulcimer, Mountie, Salvation Army girl, wayward son, snow, tambourine, dachshund, bonds, the Yukon, student quarrymen, and unfit nights, this short has more laughs in it than any of Fields's features.

I'd say more, but I have to go milk the elk.

This is quite possibly the crown jewel in the long and illustrious career of an extremely troubled and very funny man. Fields has a field day sending up a style of melodrama popular at the time. At one and the same time, this is atypical of Fields' work generally, but still has his fingerprints all over it as well. Highlights are far too numerous to list, but Fields's rendition of the song, "The Fatal Glass of Beer" (you can't really accurately call it singing), the running gag, "It ain't a fit night out for man or beast" and the ending are hilariously perfect, with a sense of timing of which Chaplin would have been proud. Most joyously recommended

I first saw this send-up of "the prodigal son" in a film course. I think my teacher and I were the only 2 people laughing. I was astonished that a film that looks like it was filmed in a garage could make my face hurt. It has a wonderfully screwy story arc, and corny gags. It's all over the place and ends abruptly, but I love it.

The Vaudeville origins of some corny bits (the snow gag) amuse. Other motifs of the period are not worthy of inclusion, but what little writing there is makes me laugh as hard as anything recent. Fields' hogwash title ditty is pretty terrific. I especially love a few of the sight gags, including a runt of a dog on a sled team, a leggy salvation army gal, and W.C. calling for Lena the elk. The sound quality is heinous, but the arbitrary scene changes relieve some of the tedium and claustrophobia of other Fields shorts (The Golf Specialist).

It mocks everything in sight; staginess, melodrama, piety, propriety, actors who mispronounce words. I don't know that there any other 18 minutes of film make me smile as much as this ridiculous little movie.

This early short subject, beloved to some of us; really shows one of the great qualities that would set his (best) comedy apart: he was strange. Not exactly verbal comedy, nor really slapstick, W.C. seemed to create his own oddball universe much like, but never quite, ours.

I loved this short from the first time I saw it as a kid, and I think it's one of a kindness really makes it his best (though others are quite funny.) Mack Sennett wanted something more in the way of conventional slapstick; Feilds had to fight for this; which is in part a spoof of sentimental wilderness poetry about Alaska.

Nobody liked it at the time. Fields himself said, "maybe it's not good. But I like it." Thank Godness he stuck by his guns and went on to create his own one of a kind comedy world.