This post is part of the See You In The Fall Blogathon hosted by MovieMovieBlogBlog.

Physical comedy in film is a funny thing. Yes, I did just write that sentence. Please keep reading. What I am trying to say is that physical comedy works like no other form of comedy. It is easily accessible, giving it the ability to cross language barriers and age differences. This is because physical comedy is visual. No one is telling a joke, and there are no one liners. There are, in a sense, no explicit cultural standards that have be understood in order to appreciate it. This is why it works so well in film, a visual medium.  At the same time it can contain depth. It can tell us more than what it showing us on the surface of the gag.  Whether that is philosophical or ideological, it can be grounded in some deeper meaning.
Physical comedy characterized by the visual gag.  The gag is the comic effect or joke being conveyed.  In some cases the gag can span the whole film. While seemly simply in its design, the physical comedy gag is intricate in its set up.  It is this intricacy and regard for detail that made me think of Jacques Tati as a subject for a post on physical comedy.  

The films of Jacques Tati are not overtly slapstick.  His comedy is more subvert, but still within the vein of physical comedy.  I chose PlayTime (1967), because it is his tour de force, the work that took him years to complete, was a financial failure, and is considered a masterpiece today. PlayTime is one of four films featuring the character of Monsieur Hulot, played by Tati himself. Much has been sad about this film, its use of space, sound, set design, mise-en-scene, color, and movement.  What I would like to focus on are just two scenes in the film that really show Tati’s ability to use subtle physical comedy. Particularly the use of sound and space. PlayTime is a critique of modernity, its built environments, and how people are effects by those environments.  Therefore it uses those built environments  to visually tell the audience something. It is interesting to note that Tati always shot his films without sound. Inserting the soundtrack in afterwards in post production. PlayTime is very effective visually. But it is the addition of sound heightens this effect dramatically. PlayTime takes sound design to a whole other level, integrating it into every visual aspect of the film.  

Monsieur Hulot meet Monsieur Giffard, in a minute.  After we are introduced to a group of American tourists, a very important old man, and a faux Monsieur Hulot, we finally meet the real M. Hulot stepping awkwardly off a bus. We already get the sense that he is out of place. This awkwardness relating to the trappings of the modern world is nothing new to M. Hulot.  As this is demonstrated in the previous Hulot film, Mon Oncle (1958). He makes his way to an office building where he shows the porter a slip of paper.  After some finagling with a large switchboard, the porter arranges for M. Giffard to meet M. Hulot. Using forced perspective, we see M. Giffard approaching. Hulot does not. The clip clap of Giffard's shoes on the floor tell us he is near, Hulot stands and is told to sit back down by the porter, who in turn sneaks another drag from his cigar. There is a complete disassociation between what we are hearing and what we are seeing. Hulot doesn't know what the audience knows in regard to Giffard's distance from him because the sound of his shoes are telling him that M. Geffard is close. It takes a long time for Giffard to reach Hulot. This reminds me of a scene in Monty Python's Holy Grail (1975) where Lancelot is storming the castle after his horse is shot by an arrow.  The guards see him come up over the rise repeatedly.  The shot is played over ad nauseum until, bam! He's at the gate. I get the sense that Tati is attempting to give the audience the same type of feeling. How could Geffard possibly be that far away? And perhaps something deeper is being said here, that modern buildings misuse space.

M. Giffard is a busy man, as the film progresses we see how busy. So he has M. Hulot wait in a sparse, glass waiting area. It is here that Hulot encounters a reoccurring set piece, the black chair. The chairs in the waiting area have the ability to bounce back after being sat in, or pushed down. Something Hulot finds very curious, and later learns is a selling point for the chair. As he moves around the waiting area initially, the sound we hear is the outside noises of the street. Almost as if Hulot is a museum exhibit. An exhibit that no one looks at. As we move inside with Hulot the sound of the interior is static, humming. Tati desired it to sound as if it was a vault. The chairs make a funny, fart like, noise when they retake their form. Hulot finally finds a spot to sit. M. Lacs is escorted into the room and sits on the opposite side of the door from Hulot. M. Lacs is robotic in his movements, each of which have a sound effect. These sounds in turn make his almost ritualistic movements comical, giving them rhythm. We, along with Hulot, can only stare at M. Lacs.   

M. Lacs brings a one man band of sounds into this sterile soundless environment. His movements are exaggerated by the soundtrack placed on them. He is a product of the modern work space. Making sure his pants are clean, his nose is properly moisturized, and his papers are in order. Like that of M. Geffard, M. Lacs actions are exaggerated for comedic effect. The introduction of this character to the waiting area only further indicates Hulot's unfamiliarity with modernity. This misplaced feeling is apparent in the next scene I would like to discuss.  The farting chair and M. Geffard reoccur in it as well, tying the two scenes together both plot and thematic elements. 

Once Hulot finally leaves the building, unable to find M. Geffard, he gets back on a bus.  Getting off there is someone yelling his name. It is an old friend from the war, who  invites Hulot into his apartment for a drink. However the camera doesn't go with Hulot, but stays outside of the apartment. Sounds heard are that of the street outside. Much like that of the earlier scene when Hulot first enters the waiting room. The wide angle shots during this scene give us a view of the entire apartment, which has a floor to ceiling window much like that of a store front. As the camera pans both adjacent apartments come into view. They are mirror images of each other, sharing a common walls, which houses a television. This camera movement gives the viewer the ability to see what is going on in both apartments simultaneously. Tati uses this effect to bring some visual comedy into play. 
What Hulot doesn't know is that Geffard is actually in the apartment adjacent to the one he is in.  He is shown all the amenities of the apartment, the lamp with the cigarette holder hidden inside, those farting chairs, and the television. The comedy comes from the way in which Tati lets the viewer create the story. As Hulot is inside, the camera never goes inside, so we never hear a word they are saying. We are forced to make up in our minds what is happening. Meanwhile, Tati letting us in on joke as if the camera is showing something funny to the audience it noticed while being forced to wait outside for Hulot.   

While PlayTime is does not have a slapstick of a Stooges skit, it does have elements of a great physical comedy. Timing, well thought out visual gags, and depth. Because sometimes a pie in the face is more than just a pie in the face. Or as Napoleon put it "Un bon croquis vaut mieux qu'un long discours" (A good sketch is better than a long speech).

If you have not seen this film, I encourage you to check it out. It contains so much more than the two scenes I talked about in this post. Also, take a look at other films by Tati. You won't be disappointed. Want to know more about the genius of PlayTime? Check out this video essay by David Cairns done for Criterion 
https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/3351-playtime-anatomy-of-a-gag

This post is for the Lauren Bacall Blogathon, hosted by In The Good Old Days Of Classic Hollywood click here to see all of the other posts celebrating the life and work of this stunning actress. 

“You know how to whistle. You just put your lips together and blow.”  A famous line from a film.  How famous and what film, I didn’t know when I first heard it.  The film I was watching when I heard that line was Honey I Shrunk the Kids (1989).  At the time I thought it was a pretty good line.  Good dialogue is good dialogue.  But how, by whom and when it is said can change it.  Which begs the question, how much of the value of dialogue lies in the delivery of it?  A question that came to mind when watching To Have and Have Not (1944) and The Big Sleep (1946).  Could anyone else have said that dialogue as good as Lauren Bacall?  Maybe, but I am glad we didn’t have to find out.     
I didn’t know who Lauren Bacall was when I was 11 years old watching the adventures of shrunken kids, but I knew her counterpart Bogie.  He was the guy from The Maltese Falcon (1941) and Casablanca (1942), two of my favorite movies at the time.  The guy who made the 11 year old me think “man, smoking is so cool”, and wonder if my grandparents had time to do anything besides drink scotch and roll cigarettes.  Oh, and fight Nazis.       
I eventually learned that Bogie had a better half, Bacall.  They’re names roll off your tongue, as if they were meant to be said together.  This kismet is felt by not only Bogie and Bacall but by everyone else who sees them together on the screen.  But given that this is a post about Bacall, I should probably focus more on her.  I chose To Have and Have Not (1944) and The Big Sleep (1946) because they have two important people who played a role the work of Lauren Bacall, Howard Hawks and Humphrey Bogart.  

Howard Hawks directed both To Have and Have Not and The Big Sleep, seemingly one right on top of the other. However, the studio held back on the release of The Big Sleep, and some changes were made to the original film. Changes that were good for Lauren Bacall, but perhaps bad for the confusing plot line of the film.  What stands out for me in both films is the use of dialogue.  That Hawks knew how to use dialogue is apparent in both films. The quintessential example of Hawks' mastery of this is His Girl Friday (1940).  It is one of the greatest dialogue-driven films ever made.  The dialogue existed on the page, but it was Hawks who insisted on overlapping it. This gave a realism to the way the characters spoke.  This realism is something that can be seen in To Have and Have Not. This is in part from the delivery of dialogue by the two main characters, but also by chemistry between them that is visible on the screen.  
Bogart was already famous when he started working on To Have and Have Not.  He took newbie Bacall under his wing, eventually he was taken under her spell.  In the film it all starts with a light.

In an attempt to capture “lightning in a bottle”, as they say, again on the screen Bogie and Bacall were paired up in The Big Sleep (1946).  The title sequence tells everyone exactly what the studio was selling, not a Raymond Chandler novel, but a Hollywood romance.  What I love about the title sequence and the end credits is the use of the cigarettes pairing together.  It is almost as if they want us to remember To Have and Have Not by placing a visual cue reminding us of it, and the actors first scene on screen together.  Or maybe I am just reading too much into a cigarette.  But unfortunately the film doesn't work as well as the first one.  
Firstly, Bacall is not given the best dialogue in this film, Bogie is.  Second, the relationship dynamic in the film is not the same as To Have and Have Not.  Although it was shot almost immediately after To Have and Have Not in 1944, release of the film  was held off until 1946.  This gave time for Hawks to re-shoot some scenes with Bacall and Bogie that were not as good as they could be.  While this helped ultimately with Bacall's appearance on screen, some of the plot of the film was lost.  
Though she doesn't have the lines she had in To Have and Have Not, Bacall is still able to hold her own in scenes with him.  There is still some air of chemistry between the two present on the screen.  

"How'd you happen to pick out this place?"
"Maybe I wanted to hold your hand"
"Oh, that can be arranged."

Again the tension is high.  Both characters don't seem to like each other but can't help the fact that maybe they are falling for each other.  

Driving back from Eddie Mars' casino.  

"Remember I told you I was beginning to like another one of the Sternwoods?"
"I wish you'd show it."
"That should be awful easy." (He kisses her)
"I liked that. I'd like more. (They kiss a second time) That's even better."
"All right, now that's settled. What's Eddie Mars got on you?"
"So that's the way..."

This dialogue mimics the kissing scene in To Have and Have Not down to Bacall's assessment of the second kiss.  Much like that of the first scene, her words linger in an exhalation of approval.  Unlike the previous film, it is Marlowe who puts an end to the fun and games.    

In both To Have and Have Not and The Big Sleep Lauren Bacall gives us enduring lines of dialogue delivered to us in a way no other actress could have done.