MAGNET contributing writer Jud Cost is sharing some of the wealth of classic films he’s been lucky enough to see over the past 40 years. Trolling the backwaters of cinema, he has worked up a list of more than 100 titles—from the ’20s through the ’80s—that you may have missed. A new selection, all currently available on DVD, appears every week.
Babes In Toyland (1934, 78 minutes)
As their career began to peak in the mid-1930s, Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy starred in Victor Herbert’s 1903 operetta set in an Oz-like land of familiar nursery-rhyme characters. Stannie Dum in a bumpkin’s haystack wig that exaggerated his own spiky coif and Ollie Dee, draped in a priceless Prince Valiant rug, live in the giant shoe of Widow Peep (Florence Roberts) and are alarmed, one morning, to find her crying.
“You boys will have to find another place to live,” she sniffs after the miserly Silas Barnaby threatens to evict her for non-payment of her mortgage. “Don’t you worry, Mother Peep,” says Ollie, promising to get a loan from the boys’ boss, the toymaker who supplies Santa Claus with Christmas presents.
Barnaby (Henry Kleinbach) has an alternate plan to foreclosure, however. Sporting an oversized pilgrim hat and a paint-brush goatee, he sidles up to the widow’s lovely daughter, Bo Peep (Charlotte Henry), tending her sheep. “I have long gazed with wonder on your sweet maidenly virtue,” he murmurs. “In short, I’m asking you to become my wife.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnaby, and I hope you won’t think me ungrateful … ” she begins before Barnaby interrupts. “I’m a very rich man, my dear,” he says, putting a bony hand on her forearm. “Think carefully, child, lest I resort to other means. And that would be an ugly way to win a pretty wife.” Bo Peep explodes, “I wouldn’t marry you if you were young, which you’re not, if you were honest, which you never were, and if you were about to die tomorrow, which is too much to hope for!”
Back at the toymaker’s, Ollie tries to screw up the courage to ask his grumpy boss for a loan. “I’ve got a very important question to ask you in private,” he says timidly. “Shut up and get back to work!” answers the toymaker (William Burress), smacking a large mallet down on his desk. The hammer’s vibration sets a toy locomotive in motion which t-bones Ollie’s can of paint, spilling it all over the ledger in the toymaker’s lap.
The boss’ anger is assuaged by the arrival of Santa Claus, eager to see the toy soldiers he’s ordered. The boys push a button in the back of one of the life-sized creations and march it out for inspection. “Isn’t it wonderful?” says the toymaker. “Yes, but not what I ordered,” says Santa. “You took that order!” his boss barks at Stan. “One hundred soldiers at six foot high,” says Stan. “No, no, I ordered six hundred solders at one foot high. I couldn’t give those to my children,” laughs Santa. Unattended, the wooden soldier snags a shelf stuffed full of toys with his bayonet, bringing everything crashing to the floor. “Here’s another mess you’ve gotten us into,” grumbles Ollie.
