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6.6/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.6/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Fatal Glass of Beer remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have a high tolerance for repetitive gags and W.C. Fields looking like he might keel over from the sheer absurdity of it all, yes. Watch this if you enjoy comedy that feels slightly broken. If you need a plot that actually moves forward, or if you get annoyed by men repeating the same sentence until it loses all meaning, you’re going to hate this.
The whole thing feels like a play performed inside a freezer. Fields sits there, talking to his wife, while the snow outside howls like a banshee. It’s a bit draining, honestly.
The dialogue is the real star here, though it's barely a star—more like a flickering candle. Fields keeps repeating, "It ain't a fit night out for man nor beast." He says it so many times I started to wonder if he was trying to convince himself as much as the audience.
There’s a weird, stagey quality to it that reminds me of A Doll's House, where everyone is just a little bit too aware of the camera. Or maybe they were just freezing. I can't tell.
It’s not exactly high-octane cinema. It’s more like watching a relative tell the same story at Thanksgiving, but the relative is a comedy legend and the story is about beer and arctic misery.
Sometimes the movie lingers on a reaction shot until it gets uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. It’s the kind of pacing that would get a modern editor fired, but here? It just adds to the weird, trapped atmosphere.
It’s not as polished as some of the other stuff from that era, like Flesh and the Devil, but it has this strange heart. Or maybe it’s just indigestion. It’s hard to say.
If you’re looking for a "profound exploration" of anything, keep walking. This is just a guy in a chair, a lot of fake snow, and a very strange son returning home. Sometimes, that’s just enough. 🍻
IMDb —
1925
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