Judging from this film and THE STRONG MAN, made the same year, I would not place Harry Langdon at the top of the list of great silent screen comedians. There simply is not enough there. Perhaps he was on his way to developing his style but sabotaged himself by taking his first big successes too seriously. In any event, all of his tricks are reminiscent of the greater funny men, but he lacks the acrobatic skills of Keaton and the prodigious ingenuity of Lloyd. He also undermines his own persona by dressing and walking like Chaplin's tramp character. His trademarks are childlike innocence, timidity of approach and a tendency to under-react to calamity by looking perplexed, batting his eyes or touching his pursed lips with the tip of his forefinger. The comedy in Langdon's films results from fate throwing various obstacles in his path which he tries to overcome in wimpy or naive ways or with a minimum of physicality, such as throwing rocks at an approaching tornado to drive it away, propping up a collapsing building with a two-by-four or dodging boulders by lifting a leg so that they roll under him. In this story, about the son of a shoemaker who joins a cross-country walking race to publicize a rival company's footwear, he manages to win by sheer luck. There is nothing here that hasn't been done far better by the Big Three.
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