7.3/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 7.3/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Oliver the Eighth remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you love the classic Laurel and Hardy dynamic, you'll probably get a kick out of this one. It's not their most famous short, but it’s got a weird, dark energy that sets it apart. If you want high-concept plot points or complex character arcs, skip it. You’ll probably hate it if you just want pure, lighthearted slapstick without a side of impending execution.
The premise is simple enough: Oliver thinks he’s wooing a rich widow, but he’s really just walking into a trap. It’s the kind of scheme that feels perfectly tailored for Ollie’s ego, and watching him try to act refined while Stanley messes everything up is classic territory.
The house is, well, creepy. Mae Busch is fantastic as the widow, playing that specific kind of polite, homicidal mania that keeps the tension high. There’s a scene involving a fireplace that stays in your head long after the credits roll.
Honestly, the pacing feels a bit frantic, like the movie knows it doesn't have much time to get to the point. Some of the slapstick feels a bit forced, especially when you compare it to something like The Cameraman, which lets the physical comedy breathe a little more. But here, the urgency works for the story.
There’s a part where they’re just sitting there, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s weirdly quiet for a comedy. It reminds me a bit of the tension in Drums of the Desert, where the environment feels like a character itself. Except here, the environment is just a room filled with potential murder weapons.
Is it perfect? No. The ending is a bit of a scramble. It feels like they just hit a wall and decided to wrap it up as fast as possible. But man, the journey to get there? Totally worth the twenty minutes.
It’s not trying to change the world. It’s just trying to make you laugh while someone is trying to chop you into pieces. That's good enough for me. 🔪
