The Great Man on DVD

W.C. Fields was arguably the funniest man in the movies in the 1930s and early 1940s, and if you argue with me, you’re a-gonna lose. Rediscovered in the 1960s, Fields became an icon of the screen 20 years after his passing, and posters of his bulbous nose peeking over a deck of cards became a staple of college dorms. Sadly, the years and changing tastes eroded his perch atop the comedic mountain, and by the home video era few of his films were visible on TV and even fewer made it to home video. Thankfully, on March 20 Universal released an indispensable boxed DVD set of five classic Fields comedies, the second such collection, and now fans can rediscover one of the screen’s greatest talents. This is as good a time as any to review Fields’ career and what is now available on DVD.

Key to this article: Fields feature films found on the first DVD Comedy Collection from Universal are in RED; films found on the second volume are in BLUE; films found on other DVDs are in YELLOW. Simple, no? If the film titles aren't in any color, well, then, they're not ON DVD!

James Curtis has written the best biography of Fields, who was born William Claude Dukenfield in Darby, Pennsylvania on January 29, 1880. Young Bill ran away from home to seek his fortune, first as a professional drowner (to draw crowds to concession stands) on the Atlantic City beach. He then developed a sensational comedy-juggling act. As the years passed, Fields became a vaudeville star and then headlined several editions of the Ziegfeld Follies. He made several attempts to break into the moving picture racket during the silent era, but it was the coming of sound that made him one of the screen’s most popular comics.

Few of Fields’ silent films survive; D.W. Griffith’s Sally of the Sawdust (1925) is one of them (Image Entertainment, $24.99). It’s an adaptation of the stage hit Poppy. An earlier Fields film survives, miraculously: his 1915 1-reel debut, Pool Sharks, which features him with the trick pool table he used so effectively on stage.

Pool Sharks has been collected with five Fields 2-reel short subjects (all of which are in the public domain and available in many, usually shoddy, editions) by Criterion, which issued them as W.C. Fields: 6 Short Films ($29.95). The Golf Specialist (1930), Fields’ talkie debut, features an adaptation of his stage golf routine. The other four are amongst the comic’s best-loved works, four shorts he made for Mack Sennett, including The Dentist (1932), The Fatal Glass of Beer (1933), The Pharmacist (1933), and The Barber Shop (1933). They’re all gems, with The Fatal Glass of Beer as funny as any film he ever made ("And it ain't a fit night out for man nor beast!").

Fields found himself busy on the Paramount lot, but the studio wasn’t quite certain what to do with him. They put him in a series of “all star” films, including Million Dollar Legs, If I Had a Million, and International House (1933). Of these, only the latter is on DVD (Universal’s W.C. Fields Comedy Collection, Vol. 1, $59.98). A wacky story of a group of diverse comics trying to get their hands on the world’s first television set, this House belongs to Fields, who steals all of his scenes and the picture. His asides – many of them hilarious barbs aimed at the other stars, including Rudy Vallee and Franklin Pangborn – are hilarious, and were probably conceived by Fields himself. Next came the still-not-on-DVD films Tillie and Gus (a gem) and Alice in Wonderland (an all-star mess with Fields as Humpty Dumpty). From there, Fields once again found himself providing ensemble support, this time with Burns & Allen and others as Six of a Kind (1934, available on DVD from Universal as part of a Burns & Allen triple feature, $14.98). While Bill is unforgettable as “Honest John” Hoxley, his part is too small to save an otherwise routine comedy. Thankfully, a golden era was just beginning, though, for Fields.

Next up was a gem, You’re Telling Me (1934), with Fields as an inventor who creates a puncture-proof tire. The Old-Fashioned Way (1934) has The Great Man in rare form as a stage manager trying to stay one step ahead of the law. Baby LeRoy provides some good scenes with Fields, and the result is delightful. Both of these films are on the new Universal Fields Vol. 2 collection ($59.98). Surprisingly, Fields’ next film had him back in a thankless supporting role, this time in the wheezer Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch; he acquitted himself as well as he could, biding his time until he could complete one of his greatest films, It’s a Gift. Fields is Harold Bissonette (pronounced, according to him, “Bissonay”), who runs a small general store back east but who longs to drive cross-country and purchase an orange grove in California. Fields was rarely funnier, particularly when his store is wrecked by a blind man, Mr. Muckle, who refuses to obey Fields' pleadings to "Sit down, Mr. Muckle! Sit DOWN, honey!"

His next role came away from Paramount; MGM brought him aboard as Micawber in an adaptation of David Copperfield (Warners, $19.98). Produced by David O. Selznick, Copperfield was a landmark for the comic, who manages to assay the role faithfully while occasionally mixing in a few bits of Fieldsian business. A triumph.

Back at Paramount, Fields was teamed with the great Bing Crosby in the delightful period musical Mississippi, and then managed another masterpiece called The Man on the Flying Trapeze (1935). Simple plot (Fields sneaks away from work to attend a wrestling match), lotta laughs. He returned in Poppy, another version of the stage hit. His Prof. Eustace McGargle is a summation of many charlatans and grifters he portrayed over the years.

Illness kept Bill off the screen for a couple of years; he returned in a dual role in The Big Broadcast of 1938 (released by Universal as part of a Bob Hope double feature, $14.98). Hope is the best thing in this film, which introduced an Oscar-winning song called Thanks for the Memory.

Fields next offer was to portray the title character in MGM’s lavish Technicolor musical adaptation of Wizard of Oz, but he got a better proposal from Universal: a contract that gave him control over story, script, and choice of director. Good money, too, and at age 58, Fields took the dough and created the four films for which he’s perhaps best remembered.

You Can’t Cheat an Honest Man (1939) is the weakest of the lot; Fields is teamed with his radio nemesis Charlie McCarthy and Charlie’s taller partner, Edgar Bergen. Eddie “Rochester” Anderson is around, too, but the film – a circus picture – is overall a disappointment.

My Little Chickadee (1940) has received much flak over the years from critics who think that the pairing of two legendary comic figures, Bill Fields and Mae West, should be a greater film than it is. Actually, taken as it should be – a spoof of B-westerns – it’s one of the more memorable comedies of its time, with Fields in rare form at 60. The two stars – who unsurprisingly couldn’t stand each other – co-wrote the film, but Fields comes off best. His stint as a Zorro-like masked bandit, with giant nose poking through a hole in the mask, is the funniest thing in the picture.

The Bank Dick (1940) is generally considered Fields’ masterpiece. No radio actors or over-the-hill Paramount ex-stars this time, just Fields at his best causing trouble throughout the berg of Lompoc, CA. It's also available on DVD from Criterion.

Fields’ next film, Never Give a Sucker an Even Break (1941) was written (from a story by Fields) as a spoof on Hollywood. It ended up far spoofier than anybody expected, because Universal – anxious to give additional footage to Deanna Durbin replacement Gloria Jean – rewrote and re-edited it into a messy farce with Fields trying to sell his script to a movie producer (Franklin Pangborn) while simultaneously acting out the film itself (a thriller with Fields wooing the terrifying Margaret Dumont, on loan from the Marx Brothers, atop a Himalayan peak). Daffy, raucous, and side-splitting, a worthy swan song to the great comic.

Fields was too old and ill to star in another film, as badly as he wanted to. Instead, he provided support in cameo roles in a quartet of wartime comedies, Tales of Manhattan (1942), Follow the Boys (1944), Song of the Open Road (1944), and Sensations of 1945 (1944). He died on Christmas day, 1946, at the age of 66.

The W.C. Fields Comedy Collection, Vol. 2 from Universal is the best place to begin to acquaint or reacquaint yourself with Mr. Fields, and carries our In The Balcony HIGHEST RECOMMENDATION!