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6.2/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.2/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Star Boarder remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
In the annals of silent cinema, where the grandiosity of epics often jostled with the intimate charm of melodramas, there existed a vibrant, chaotic corner dedicated to the art of physical comedy. Within this realm, a figure of singular, frenetic energy reigned supreme: Larry Semon. His films, often characterized by their elaborate stunts, ingenious contraptions, and a pervasive sense of delightful absurdity, carved out a unique niche. Among his most brilliant, and perhaps most conceptually audacious, works stands the 1920 comedic gem, 'The Star Boarder'. This isn't just another slapstick romp; it's a masterclass in narrative inversion, a film that dares to ask: what if prison was a paradise, and freedom, a curse?
The opening scenes of 'The Star Boarder' immediately establish a world turned on its head. Larry Semon, in his inimitable style, portrays a convict whose existence within the penitentiary walls is not merely tolerable but downright luxurious. Imagine, if you will, a prison cell less as a stark symbol of punitive justice and more as a lavish, albeit state-funded, bachelor pad. Larry's cell is an oasis of comfort, replete with amenities that would make a free man envious. He enjoys gourmet meals, served with white-gloved precision, and a level of personal service usually reserved for royalty. His days are spent in blissful idleness, lounging, being waited upon, and generally living a life of ease that stands in stark contrast to the typical cinematic portrayal of incarceration. This initial premise is not just a clever joke; it's a profound subversion of societal expectations, a comedic critique of the very idea of punishment. Semon uses this setup to great effect, building up an image of an almost utopian existence behind bars, a place where one might actually *want* to be.
The visual gags stemming from this premise are plentiful and expertly executed. We see Larry, a picture of serene contentment, enjoying a morning shave administered by a dutiful guard, or perhaps a leisurely read while a fellow inmate fans him. The irony is palpable, and Semon's physical performance, even in these moments of repose, conveys a subtle smugness, a quiet triumph over the system that inadvertently caters to his every whim. This initial state of affairs is crucial, for it lays the groundwork for the narrative's central reversal: a man so accustomed to luxury within prison that he finds the prospect of freedom terrifying. It's a testament to Semon's storytelling prowess that he makes this utterly absurd scenario feel not only believable within its comedic context but also genuinely hilarious.
The tranquil rhythm of Larry's prison life is inevitably shattered by the cold, hard reality of his impending release. His sentence is up, and with it, his access to the comforts he has grown to cherish. The scene of his expulsion from the prison gates is not one of joyous liberation, but rather one of profound despair. Semon masterfully conveys Larry's reluctance, his almost physical resistance to being thrust back into the 'real' world. The outside, with its demands, its responsibilities, and its lack of catered meals, represents a stark, unwelcome contrast to his gilded cage. This is where the film truly hits its stride, as Larry embarks on a series of increasingly desperate and comically inept attempts to secure his return to the penitentiary.
His initial forays into the criminal underworld are a highlight of Semon's physical comedy. Larry's attempt at a stickup, for instance, is a ballet of bungling. He fumbles with the weapon, trips over his own feet, and generally displays an utter lack of aptitude for villainy. These scenes are classic Semon, filled with exaggerated gestures, wide-eyed panic, and a relentless cascade of unfortunate events. His efforts to commit a crime worthy of re-incarceration are met with comical failure at every turn, showcasing his character's fundamental innocence, or perhaps, his sheer incompetence, which paradoxically makes him endearing. The humor here is derived not just from the slapstick but from the profound irony of a man actively seeking imprisonment, a concept alien to most cinematic narratives.
Just as Larry's attempts at criminal enterprise seem doomed to perpetual failure, fortune, in its twisted, comedic way, intervenes. He stumbles upon a perfect doppelgänger: an escaped convict who bears an uncanny resemblance to him. This is a classic silent film trope, seen in countless comedies, including Semon's own Just Neighbors, but here, it's deployed with a uniquely dark twist. Larry seizes this opportunity, exchanging clothes and identities with the lookalike, believing he has found his foolproof ticket back to the comfortable confines of his beloved prison. His re-entry is initially a triumph, a moment of smug satisfaction as he anticipates the return to his pampered routine. The audience, too, might be lulled into a sense of comedic resolution, expecting Larry to simply resume his life of ease.
However, Semon, ever the master of unexpected turns, delivers a truly shocking twist. It's revealed that the doppelgänger's crime carries a death sentence, and Larry, now firmly ensconced in his assumed identity, is slated for the gallows. This moment marks a pivotal shift in the film's tone and Larry's motivations. The once-coveted sanctuary instantly transforms into a terrifying death trap. The blissful idleness he sought is replaced by existential dread. The humor, while still present, takes on a darker, more frantic edge. This dramatic reversal is a stroke of genius, transforming a lighthearted farce into a high-stakes comedy of errors, where the protagonist's survival is suddenly on the line. Larry's frantic attempts to escape now mirror the desperation of any true convict, completing the narrative's full circle from wanting in to desperate to get out.
With the gallows looming, Larry's desire for freedom becomes paramount. The former 'star boarder' is now a desperate man, and he quickly aligns himself with other inmates planning a jailbreak. This sequence is where Semon's talent for orchestrating large-scale comedic chaos truly shines. The prison, initially a symbol of comfort, becomes a labyrinth of frantic activity, filled with guards, inmates, and elaborate escape attempts. The jailbreak is a symphony of pandemonium, featuring daring leaps, precarious climbs, and a flurry of mistaken identities and close calls. Semon, as both actor and director, is at the heart of this maelstrom, his character's fear-driven agility a stark contrast to his earlier languor.
The humor in these scenes is derived from the sheer inventiveness of the gags and the relentless pace. Semon's films, much like those of his contemporaries such as Buster Keaton or Harold Lloyd, often relied on elaborate set pieces and precise timing, and The Star Boarder is no exception. The prison environment provides ample opportunity for ingenious visual comedy, from collapsing walls to unexpected tunnels. The collaborative nature of the escape also brings out the best in the supporting cast, with each character contributing to the escalating madness. This final act is a breathless chase, a triumphant display of Semon's ability to weave together a complex tapestry of physical comedy and narrative tension, culminating in a satisfying, if utterly chaotic, resolution.
Larry Semon was a force of nature in early cinema, an actor-director whose comedic style was distinctive and instantly recognizable. In The Star Boarder, his performance as Larry is a masterclass in physical comedy, transitioning effortlessly from smug contentment to wide-eyed terror and frantic desperation. His rubbery face and agile body were perfect instruments for the exaggerated expressions and elaborate stunts that defined his work. Semon's characters often found themselves in predicaments of their own making, or caught in the crossfire of escalating chaos, and Larry in this film is no different. He embodies the hapless victim, yet with a mischievous glint in his eye that suggests a deeper, more cunning intelligence beneath the bumbling exterior.
As a director, Semon was known for his ambitious and often expensive productions. He wasn't afraid to demolish sets or employ complex special effects for a single gag. His vision for The Star Boarder is evident in the detailed prison sets, the dynamic chase sequences, and the overall pacing of the film. He understood how to build comedic tension and release it with a perfectly timed pratfall or an unexpected twist. His films, though sometimes criticized for their lack of narrative coherence compared to a Chaplin or Keaton, prioritized the sheer spectacle of laughter, delivering a relentless barrage of gags that left audiences breathless. The visual inventiveness of the escape sequence, for example, demonstrates a keen understanding of cinematic space and comedic timing.
No Semon film would be complete without his trusted troupe of comedic foils and collaborators, and The Star Boarder benefits immensely from their presence. Lucille Carlisle, a frequent leading lady in Semon's films, brings her own brand of charm and comedic timing, often serving as a bewildered observer or an unwitting participant in Larry's schemes. Her reactions provide a grounding element amidst the escalating chaos. Frank Alexander, another Semon regular, typically played the heavy or the stern authority figure, and his formidable presence here provides a perfect antagonist for Larry's antics, whether as a guard or a rival inmate. His booming presence and exasperated expressions are a consistent source of humor.
William Hauber, known for his acrobatic stunts and comedic versatility, adds another layer to the physical comedy, often appearing in supporting roles that require him to be as agile and expressive as Semon himself. The presence of Chai Hong and the adorable canine actor Snooky further enriches the tapestry of gags, with Snooky often stealing scenes through perfectly timed animal reactions or unexpected interventions. And, notably, the film features an early appearance by the legendary Norma Shearer. While her role might be minor in this early stage of her career, her presence is a fascinating historical footnote, hinting at the star power she would soon command in Hollywood. Even in a small capacity, her burgeoning talent for screen presence is discernible, adding a touch of nascent glamour to the comedic fray. The collective energy of this ensemble elevates the film beyond a mere one-man show, creating a dynamic and engaging comedic environment.
To fully appreciate The Star Boarder, one must place it within the vibrant context of 1920s silent film comedy. This was an era of unparalleled creativity, where filmmakers were constantly pushing the boundaries of visual storytelling and physical humor. While Chaplin mastered the pathos of the tramp and Keaton perfected the 'Great Stone Face' amidst impossible stunts, Semon carved his niche with an almost manic energy and a penchant for grand, often destructive, set pieces. His films, like The Foolish Age, often revolved around escalating chaos and mistaken identities, themes that resonate strongly in The Star Boarder. The film's central premise – a man wanting to return to jail – is a brilliant subversion that stands out even among the era's many innovative comedies. It challenges the audience's expectations, forcing them to reconsider conventional notions of freedom and confinement.
The film's enduring appeal lies in its audacious concept and Semon's relentless commitment to the bit. It's a testament to the power of pure, unadulterated farce. While Semon's star faded somewhat with the advent of sound, his silent comedies remain fascinating artifacts of a bygone era, showcasing a unique comedic voice. The Star Boarder, in particular, deserves renewed attention for its clever plot, its energetic performances, and its ability to consistently surprise and delight. It's a film that asks us to laugh at the very foundations of our societal structures, finding humor in the most unexpected places.
Beyond the comedic performances and inventive gags, The Star Boarder also demonstrates a high level of technical craftsmanship for its time. The cinematography, while adhering to the conventions of the era, is dynamic, effectively capturing the frenetic pace of the chase sequences and the intimate details of Larry's 'luxurious' cell. The use of intertitles is concise and effective, guiding the audience through the narrative without bogging down the visual storytelling. Semon, as a director, understood the power of visual clarity in silent film, ensuring that even the most complex gags were easy to follow and appreciate.
The set design, particularly the prison interiors, is remarkably detailed. The contrast between the initial pristine, almost opulent, cell and the later, more chaotic and utilitarian prison environments during the escape, speaks volumes about the film's evolving tone. The use of practical effects and elaborate contraptions for the stunts is also noteworthy, a hallmark of Semon's productions. These weren't merely simple gags; they were often meticulously planned sequences that required significant resources and ingenuity to execute. The visual language of the film is rich, employing exaggerated expressions, rapid-fire action, and clever spatial arrangements to maximize comedic impact. It’s a testament to the fact that silent cinema, far from being primitive, was a sophisticated art form capable of nuanced and spectacular storytelling.
In conclusion, The Star Boarder stands as a vibrant testament to Larry Semon's unique comedic genius. It's a film that takes a simple, yet utterly inverted, premise and extrapolates it into a full-blown farce, replete with ingenious gags, thrilling chases, and a surprisingly dark twist. Semon's performance is captivating, showcasing his unparalleled physical dexterity and his ability to convey a wide range of emotions through exaggerated pantomime. The supporting cast, from Lucille Carlisle to Frank Alexander and even a young Norma Shearer, contribute significantly to the film's overall charm and comedic energy. As a piece of cinematic history, it offers a fascinating glimpse into the ambitions and inventiveness of early silent film. For anyone with an appreciation for classic slapstick, clever storytelling, and an actor unafraid to literally throw himself into the absurdity of his craft, The Star Boarder remains an essential, thoroughly entertaining watch. It's a reminder that sometimes, the funniest stories are those that turn our expectations completely upside down, proving that a comfortable prison might just be preferable to the chaos of freedom – until, of course, the gallows enter the picture.
IMDb 5.1
1921
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