Summary
A soot-smudged reel of 1915 London unfurls like a cracked music-hall mirror: cobblestones glisten under gaslight while a lone bobby—Snub Pollard’s spindle-shanked constable—patrols a district that has already surrendered to pandemonium. Brick lanes echo with the slap of fists on flesh; market stalls vomit cabbages and chaos. Into this churning human cauldron strides a colossal bruiser—Noah Young’s bare-knuckled titan—whose fists orbit like twin moons, flattening rioters into unconscious constellations. When the dust settles and the last jaw clicks back into place, Snub tips his helmet, absorbs the applause, and pockets a glory he never earned. The film, barely two reels long, becomes a sly allegory of institutional vanity: the State’s tin badge gleams brightest when polished by someone else’s knuckles.
Synopsis
Snub, as a member of the London police force, is assigned to a neighborhood where a terrific free-for-all battle is taking place. After the struggle is snuffed out by a particularly belligerent chap who wades into the crowd and sends its members into the land of twittering birdies with an assortment of right and left-handed blows, Snub steps forth and accepts credit for the feat.
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