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6.3/10
Archivist John
Senior Editor
A definitive 6.3/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. 'Lots' of Water remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Is 'Lots' of Water worth watching today? Short answer: absolutely, but with significant caveats. This silent comedy gem, starring the inimitable Charles R. Bowers, offers a fascinating, often bizarre, glimpse into early cinematic humor and the sheer ingenuity required to stage large-scale practical gags. It’s a film for those who appreciate the foundational mechanics of physical comedy and the audacious spirit of silent-era filmmaking.
However, it is decidedly not for viewers accustomed to modern pacing, subtle humor, or sophisticated narrative arcs. If your comedic palate demands rapid-fire dialogue, intricate plot twists, or CGI spectacle, then 'Lots' of Water might feel less like a refreshing splash and more like a slow, inescapable deluge.
Charles R. Bowers, a name that regrettably doesn't resonate with the same cultural ubiquity as Keaton or Chaplin, was a true original. His films often blended live-action with stop-motion animation, creating a surreal, almost avant-garde style that set him apart. 'Lots' of Water, while primarily live-action, embodies his penchant for the absurd and his relentless pursuit of a singular, escalating gag.
The premise is deceptively simple: two men buy a house in Florida, only to discover it’s built on a swamp. The ensuing battle against the elements – and the wildlife – forms the backbone of the film. It's a testament to Bowers' vision that such a straightforward concept could be stretched, quite literally, to its breaking point, delivering a sustained, if sometimes repetitive, comedic assault.
Early in the film, the sheer optimism of Mutt and Jeff, portrayed by Bowers and Bud Fisher respectively, is almost heartbreaking. They approach their new home with an unfounded confidence that foreshadows their inevitable downfall. This setup, a classic comedic trope, is executed with a charming naiveté that makes their impending doom all the more amusing.
Let’s break down the core strengths and weaknesses of 'Lots' of Water:
The core concept of 'Lots' of Water is its greatest strength and, arguably, its biggest weakness. The idea of a house literally dissolving into a swamp, complete with alligators, is brilliant. It's a high-concept disaster movie played for laughs, a precursor to many modern comedic scenarios where characters are pitted against an overwhelming, absurd force of nature.
The film doesn't waste time in setting up the inevitable. From the moment Mutt and Jeff sign the papers, there's a sense of impending doom. The visual gags of water seeping in, walls crumbling, and furniture floating away are meticulously staged. One particularly memorable sequence involves a character trying to sleep in a rapidly filling bed, the water rising around him with each passing moment. It’s a simple visual, but effective in conveying the relentless nature of their predicament.
However, as the premise unfolds, the film struggles to introduce new variations. While the introduction of alligators provides a fresh layer of peril and comedic opportunity, the fundamental gag of 'house-flooding' can feel stretched. It makes you wonder how a modern director might tackle the same concept, perhaps with more character-driven subplots or a wider array of physical obstacles.
Charles R. Bowers, as Mutt, is the undeniable heart of this chaotic endeavor. His performance is a masterclass in physical comedy, a relentless ballet of desperation and ingenuity. He’s not as graceful as Buster Keaton nor as emotionally resonant as Charlie Chaplin, but he possesses a unique brand of frantic, almost mechanical energy.
Bowers' humor often stems from his character's unwavering, almost pathological, optimism in the face of utter disaster. He tries to fix every problem with increasingly elaborate and nonsensical contraptions, each attempt leading to further catastrophe. This particular strain of comedic character, a sort of mad inventor whose solutions only deepen the problem, is something Bowers perfected. His struggle against a stubborn alligator, for instance, isn't just a simple chase; it's a series of escalating, Rube Goldberg-esque attempts at capture that are both hilarious and deeply frustrating.
His collaboration with Bud Fisher, playing Jeff, provides a solid comedic foil, though Fisher's role is largely reactive. It’s Bowers’ manic energy that propels the film forward. It’s a shame he isn't more widely known; his work, including films like The Man Trap or his animated shorts, represents a fascinating, distinct branch of silent comedy. He was, in many ways, the spiritual ancestor of animators who would later push the boundaries of cartoon physics.
The directing in 'Lots' of Water, credited to Bowers and Harold L. Muller, is functional and surprisingly ambitious for its time. Staging a continuously flooding house, complete with live alligators, was no small feat. The filmmakers effectively use wide shots to establish the scale of the disaster, allowing the audience to take in the full, waterlogged chaos.
Cinematography, while not groundbreaking, serves the story well. The film relies heavily on practical effects, and the camera captures these with a straightforward clarity. There aren't many fancy camera movements or innovative angles, but the composition is always clear, ensuring the audience can follow the escalating visual gags. The contrast between the initial sunny Florida dream and the dark, murky reality of the swamp is subtly conveyed through lighting and set design, even in black and white.
One could argue that the film’s visual style is its own form of character. The collapsing house, the rising water, the lurking alligators – these elements are as much performers as Bowers and Fisher. The film’s commitment to showing, rather than telling, the progression of the disaster is commendable. This dedication to visual storytelling is a hallmark of the silent era, and 'Lots' of Water is a solid example of it.
The pacing of 'Lots' of Water is a double-edged sword. On one hand, the relentless escalation of the water and the problems it causes creates a certain hypnotic rhythm. The film builds its comedic tension by slowly but surely drowning its protagonists in their own bad decisions. This gradual descent into chaos is, in itself, a form of comedic timing.
On the other hand, the lack of narrative complexity or significant character arcs means that the film relies almost entirely on its visual gags. When these gags hit, they're genuinely funny. When they don't, or when they become too repetitive, the pacing can feel sluggish. It’s a film that demands a certain level of engagement and patience from its audience, an understanding of the comedic sensibilities of the era.
The tone is consistently light, despite the dire circumstances. There’s no real sense of danger, even with the alligators. It’s pure, unadulterated slapstick, where the stakes are primarily comedic. This unwavering commitment to humor, even when the characters are literally swimming for their lives, is part of its charm. It works. But it’s flawed.
Yes, 'Lots' of Water is absolutely worth watching, particularly for enthusiasts of silent film and those curious about the diverse landscape of early cinematic comedy. It offers a unique window into the creative mind of Charles R. Bowers, a comedian and filmmaker whose inventive spirit often went beyond the conventional slapstick of his peers. While it may not possess the universal appeal of a Chaplin or Keaton classic, its audacious concept and relentless physical humor make it a significant historical artifact and an entertaining watch for the right audience.
While 'Lots' of Water might not be a widely recognized classic, it holds a significant place in the annals of silent comedy. It showcases a unique talent in Charles R. Bowers, whose blend of live-action and mechanical absurdity predates and influences later forms of surreal comedy. His film stands as a testament to the boundless creativity of an era that was constantly experimenting with the nascent language of cinema. One could even draw a line from Bowers' mechanical gags to the elaborate contraptions seen in Wallace and Gromit films decades later.
It’s a film that reminds us that comedy is often found in the most uncomfortable, inconvenient places. The absurdity of two men trying to salvage their American dream from a literal swamp, battling creatures that belong to a different ecosystem, is a timeless comedic setup. While it may not reach the dramatic heights of The Man Without a Country or the sweeping adventure of The Ridin' Kid from Powder River, its singular focus on a calamitous premise makes it distinctive.
One surprising observation is how 'Lots' of Water, despite its comedic intent, inadvertently highlights the environmental folly of human expansion. The alligators aren't villains; they're simply reclaiming what was always theirs. This accidental ecological commentary adds an unexpected layer of depth to what is otherwise a straightforward slapstick.
'Lots' of Water is a fascinating, if imperfect, piece of cinematic history. It's a film that truly embodies the spirit of early filmmaking: ambitious, inventive, and utterly committed to its bizarre premise. Charles R. Bowers delivers a performance that cements his status as an overlooked comedic genius, a mad scientist of slapstick whose creations often turn against him. While its pacing and singular focus might not appeal to all modern viewers, its historical value and unique brand of humor make it a worthwhile watch for those willing to dive into its watery depths. It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s an essential footnote in the evolution of screen comedy, a testament to the fact that sometimes, the most profound laughter comes from the most absurd misfortunes.
IMDb 6.5
1923
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