Laurel & Hardy's Muddy Mayhem: A Look Back at "Should Married Men Go Home?"

This one’s for the purists, the folks who genuinely get a kick out of watching two grown men slowly, inevitably, descend into complete chaos. If you’ve got a soft spot for silent-era slapstick and the inimitable dynamic of Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, then yes, Should Married Men Go Home? is absolutely worth the twenty-odd minutes it demands. You’ll probably enjoy the meticulous build-up to utter silliness. But if the thought of protracted physical comedy, without a single spoken word, makes you sigh, then honestly, skip it. This isn't going to convert anyone new to the genre.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Should Married Men Go Home? (1928) through its definitive frames.

The premise is pure Laurel & Hardy: Stan, ever the bumbling, well-meaning agent of destruction, drops in on Ollie at home. Immediately, things go sideways. There's a moment where Ollie's wife (Kay Deslys, who has this great, weary look about her) tries to get Stan to leave, and he just... doesn't quite grasp it. It’s not just the lines, it’s the way Stan’s face registers a kind of dim, confused innocence that makes you almost feel for Ollie. Almost. Because, of course, Ollie’s own attempts to assert dignity usually just accelerate his downfall.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Should Married Men Go Home? (1928) through its definitive frames.

The domestic disruption is pretty standard L&H stuff, but it sets the stage. The wives, tired of the pair’s antics, boot them out. So, where do two married men, temporarily unmoored, go? A golf course, naturally. This is where the short really opens up, both literally and figuratively. The greens are wide open, ripe for disaster.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Should Married Men Go Home? (1928) through its definitive frames.

They spot two young women (Dorothy Coburn and Viola Richard) and the whole dynamic shifts into this awkward, almost painful attempt at flirtation. Ollie, with his puffed-up chest and preening gestures, tries to be the suave one. Stan, meanwhile, just sort of exists, his attempts at charm often involving him getting tangled in something or looking utterly bewildered. There's a shot of Ollie trying to explain golf to one of the women, puffing out his cheeks, and you can practically hear the "harrumph" even without sound. It’s classic Ollie trying to maintain an air of sophistication that’s always just out of reach.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Should Married Men Go Home? (1928) through its definitive frames.

The pacing here feels a little stretched, maybe. There are a few beats where the gags don't quite land as quickly as they might in later, more refined L&H shorts. You can almost feel them trying to milk each reaction for a beat too long before moving onto the next bit of mayhem. But then, the chaos starts to build.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Should Married Men Go Home? (1928) through its definitive frames.

Enter John Aasen, a genuinely giant man, whose mere presence makes everything feel a bit more absurd. He moves slowly, deliberately, and when he gets dragged into the fray, it’s less about agility and more about sheer, overwhelming mass. The film doesn't really explain why he's there, or who he is, he's just... a very tall person on a golf course. It’s an interesting choice, just throwing him in there as another element of disruption.

And then, the mud fight. Oh, the mud fight. It’s the grand finale, and it’s gloriously, utterly messy. People get pelted with mud, slip, slide, and just generally become indistinguishable blobs of clay and flailing limbs. It escalates beautifully. What starts as a minor spat becomes a full-blown war, with everyone covered head to toe. There’s a particular moment where Ollie, already caked, tries to wipe mud from his eyes and just smears it further. It’s such a simple, effective visual gag. The whole thing feels like a child's tantrum writ large, and it's genuinely pretty funny to watch the sheer commitment to getting absolutely filthy.

The film ends, as these shorts often do, with the wives returning to find their husbands in this state of total disarray. No real resolution, just the implication of further trouble. It’s a good example of L&H finding their footing, honing that specific brand of escalating, physical comedy that would define their careers. Not their absolute peak, maybe, but a solid entry for anyone keen on seeing how the masters of slapstick built their legacy, one mud pie at a time.