Quintessential W.C. Fields comedy (again, billed as Charles Bogle, he provided the story himself) boasting a pleasant period setting and a plot that revolves around a troupe of traveling players led by The Great McGonigle. The star is given yet another memorable introduction - being signaled by his daughter of the presence of the law, representing their creditors, on his way to the train which is to take them to the next town; here, again, we have a daughter who is willing to forgive her rascally father his every whim and foible.

The film, as such, relies more on atmosphere than the typical Fields 'sketches' and this, perhaps, lends it a charm - and a freshness - that it wouldn't otherwise possess. Among its many notable scenes are: Fields thinking the military reception waiting at the train station is for his troupe's benefit; the dinner sequence with a rampaging, famished troupe and Fields' hilarious encounter with Baby LeRoy (who throws food at him and drops his watch into a jar of molasses) - Fields manages to get even with the child by kicking him when no one's watching!; the rich old lady's cringe-inducing singing audition, with the star reacting accordingly (he's hoping to secure her financial backing for the play the troupe will be presenting in town by promising her a role in it - this is eventually whittled down to a single line, which she's never even called upon to deliver!); Fields falling off the stage during rehearsals, etc.

"The Drunkard" set-piece occupies a good deal of the second half: a hoary melodrama which the troupe performs with gusto - with Fields as the mustachioed and hissable villain of the piece who, at one point, reprises the immortal line from his short THE FATAL GLASS OF BEER (1933) "'T ain't a fit night out for man nor beast". With the closing of each act, the curtain comes crashing down making a loud thumping sound; still, the film is clearly intended as a valentine to the days of vaudeville - and even includes a wonderful juggling routine towards the end that showcases Fields' amazing dexterity (in spite of his advancing age, corpulent physique and propensity for booze).

The final sequence finds The Great McGonigle keeping busy as a medicine showman - having left his daughter behind, so as not to interfere with her happiness alongside a stage-struck boy emanating from a respectable family. Typically, for comedies from this era, romance and songs have been incorporated into the narrative as much as a device by which to counterbalance the star's antics as for purely commercial reasons (since these films were largely intended for family consumption).

One of my favorite things about this one is seeing W.C. juggle. He started out his show business career as a juggler, and in this movie you get to see some of his act. Even after a couple of decades of drink, he still does a creditable job, to say the least. The cigar box routine is a sight to remember.

It also contains one of the oddest-named characters in any movie, Cleopatra Pepperday, played wonderfully by Jan Duggan. The scene where she sings Gathering Up The Shells By The Seashore is wonderful. Or when she's rehearsing her "line" in the play, "Here comes the prince!" There is also a fascinating little cultural artifact within the movie -- a production of The Drunkard, a 19th century hit, no doubt popular when William Claude was a mere lad.

As per usual, W.C. Fields is incredible. The fascinating thing about him, to me, is the subtlety of his performance. It doesn't LOOK subtle, I'll grant you, but what strikes me is that there are many layers to his performing in movies. On the one hand, there are the huge gestures and loud, familiar voice, but on the other hand there are the muttered asides, the precise facial reactions, the absurd failure to accomplish the simplest tasks, like put his hat on his head without getting it caught on a cane. That's what I mean by subtle, you almost miss it and then you can't explain to yourself what it is that is so incredibly funny about what he's doing.

There's a bit of controversy about the scene where he kicks Baby LeRoy in the bottom, knocking him across the hall. There are many stories of W.C.'s working with Baby LeRoy. Apparently, on one occasion, Fields poured gin into Baby LeRoy's bottle, and when the child began throwing up and falling over, W.C. snorted, "I told you he was no trouper!"

I think it's awful that so many of W.C. Fields' films are not yet released on DVD. This is an oversight that should be rectified soon, we hope!

The Great McGonigle, ham actor extraordinaire, cares for his troupe of performers in THE OLD FASHIONED WAY, thorough chicanery, larceny & skullduggery...

Here is W. C. Fields in all of his pompous, vulgar glory: evasive, duplicitous, sneaky - utterly wonderful. Delivering dialogue in his unique buzz saw rasp, he gives out so many familiar lines that at times he almost seems to be performing a self-parody. This film brilliantly shows why Fields needed the sound cinema to let him be fully appreciated, and with Paramount giving him free rein to develop his material as he wished, it is not surprising that the film is a classic. Fans need look no further to find the essential Fields.

The romance between Judith Allen & Joe Morrison is a rather dull affair, although the young man sings well. Tammany Young plays Fields' loyal amanuensis. Movie mavens will recognize comedian Billy Bletcher as the tomato thrower & sour-visaged sheriff Clarence Wilson, both uncredited. Legend has it that Hollywood's first movie star, Florence Lawrence, derelict & forgotten, made one of her last unbilled appearances here before her 1938 suicide.

Fields found it useful to populate his films with at least one she-dragon, a female of frightful aspect against whom he could bounce off some of his best humor. This film has two: rail-thin, Nora Cecil - prim & dour as the troupe's suspicious landlady; and most especially silly Jan Duggan, horridly bejeweled & curled, as Field's wealthy target. Here was an actress, now nearly forgotten, who could easily equal in hilarity even Fields himself. It is generally overlooked how important her contribution is to the celebrated supper table scene with Fields & Baby LeRoy - one of the funniest sequences ever to appear in an American film. And her rendition of `Gathering Up The Shells On The Seashore' is a wonderful spoof of such sentimental songs as `When You And I Were Young, Maggie,' which were so popular in that era. Miss Duggan would return to briefly plague Fields in three additional films, including THE BANK DICK (1940). (She died in 1977 at the age of 95.)

Fields has included the old melodrama The Drunkard into the plot and to his credit he plays it ‘straight,' letting its honest antique sentiment speak for itself. In his own private olio, Fields makes a curtain call to show off his astonishing talent of legerdemain. It is wonderful to have his routine captured on film as he really is quite amazing - it is easy to see how at one time he was considered the world's greatest juggler. Now he is remembered as one of cinema's supreme comics.