Fixing a Stew: A chaotic lesson in sobriety

If you've got fifteen minutes to kill and a soft spot for that old-school, wobbly-legged slapstick, Fixing a Stew is worth a look. It’s definitely not for anyone who needs a complex narrative or high-stakes drama. But if you enjoy watching people get increasingly frustrated while everything falls apart in a kitchen, you’ll probably have a decent time.

Leon Errol is, as always, doing that thing where he looks like he’s made of rubber and bad decisions. The premise is simple: the women in his life are trying to sober him up. It feels a bit like watching a frantic, less violent version of the chaos in Blackmail, just with more spilled liquid and fewer high-stakes crimes.

The pacing is fast. Maybe a little too fast, because sometimes a joke lands, and before you can even chuckle, they’ve already moved on to the next physical gag. There’s a specific bit where the mother-in-law’s transformation is so abrupt it’s almost dizzying. She just… gives up, right? One minute she’s the moral compass, the next she’s looking for the hidden stash.

The kitchen set feels cramped, which honestly helps the vibe. It makes the bickering feel claustrophobic. You can almost smell the stale air and the burnt coffee. It reminds me a bit of the frantic energy in Ko-Ko's Crib, where the background noise is just as important as the main actors.

I found myself wondering if they actually broke any of those dishes or if they were just cheap props. They shatter with a very specific, tinny sound. It’s weird the things you fixate on when the dialogue gets a bit repetitive.

There’s no grand message here. It’s not trying to say anything deep about addiction or family dynamics. It’s just people acting like total idiots for our amusement. Sometimes that’s enough. Other times, it just makes you want to go find a drink yourself.

Is it a masterpiece? No. Is it better than sitting through some of the more tedious shorts from the same era? Absolutely. 🥃