Coming off a three-year alcoholism-induced convalescence, W. C. Fields struggles more than a bit to show why he was the male comedy star of the 1930s. He finds a crutch in a three-and-a-half-foot wooden co- star named Charlie McCarthy.
Does he need it? The evidence of "You Can't Cheat An Honest Man" suggests so. Fields here has a lot of stunt doubles doing pratfalls, is absent from many scenes, and audio overdubs abound. The bare- bones story presents him as Larsen E. Whipsnade, a carnival owner keeping one step ahead of the law while rooking both ticket-buyers and employees. When his daughter lines up a rich suitor, Whipsnade's money troubles appear over, but will McCarthy and his partner Edgar Bergen ruin the marriage plans?
Other reviewers here say they enjoy Fields but find the Bergen- McCarthy material annoying. It's the opposite for me. The more I watch Fields' hat pulls and mutterings, the more I sigh and wait impatiently for the next scene. His constant cheating and overall nastiness gets to be a chore. He's just not that funny here.
"I'd rather have two girls at 21 each than one girl at 42," he sings, apropos of nothing. Or when one of his underlings asks for his salary: "You'll get your celery, and olives and mustard, too."
But the Bergen-McCarthy stuff is funny. The notion of the runaway ventriloquist dummy was done before, but the delightful absurdity of Charlie finding himself inside an alligator calling out for help is played up winningly like in the classic Fields comedies "Million Dollar Legs" and "Never Give A Sucker An Even Break."
Bergen's ventriloquism was not difficult to catch out, something he calls out himself here. (Girl: "How do you talk without moving your lips?" Charlie: "You're asking the wrong man!") But he invests Charlie with a real personality, and the interplay between the two is such it's easy to buy them as a duo rather than a guy talking to himself. I love the bit where they are on a balloon and Edgar asks Charlie to keep a lookout so he can woo Whipsnade's daughter in private.
"You like him, don't you," the daughter asks Bergen about Whipsnade.
"Talk yourself out of that one!" prods Charlie.
The best scenes Fields has in this film have him play off McCarthy and Bergen, except one where Fields works his own ventriloquist act on a stony-faced audience. The rest of the time, he relies on dodging-the-sheriff gags and double-talking a gullible Grady Sutton out of his money.
Apparently Fields didn't get on with credited director George Marshall; the patchiness of a troubled shoot shows up especially at the end, where the carnival setting is ditched for a society soirée where Fields continually shocks the matron by throwing the word "snake" into his outlandish stories, then adjourns for an overlong ping-pong match and more stunt doubling.
Fields kept himself in the public eye during his convalescence doing radio appearances with Edgar and Charlie; at its best "Honest Man" brings some of this revitalizing energy and evergreen insult humor to screen. But there's a lot of fat and fluff on this one, and with Fields seemingly on shaky ground, it's less a film to recommend than a cultural curiosity of its time featuring a recovering legend and a terrific puppet show.
Does he need it? The evidence of "You Can't Cheat An Honest Man" suggests so. Fields here has a lot of stunt doubles doing pratfalls, is absent from many scenes, and audio overdubs abound. The bare- bones story presents him as Larsen E. Whipsnade, a carnival owner keeping one step ahead of the law while rooking both ticket-buyers and employees. When his daughter lines up a rich suitor, Whipsnade's money troubles appear over, but will McCarthy and his partner Edgar Bergen ruin the marriage plans?
Other reviewers here say they enjoy Fields but find the Bergen- McCarthy material annoying. It's the opposite for me. The more I watch Fields' hat pulls and mutterings, the more I sigh and wait impatiently for the next scene. His constant cheating and overall nastiness gets to be a chore. He's just not that funny here.
"I'd rather have two girls at 21 each than one girl at 42," he sings, apropos of nothing. Or when one of his underlings asks for his salary: "You'll get your celery, and olives and mustard, too."
But the Bergen-McCarthy stuff is funny. The notion of the runaway ventriloquist dummy was done before, but the delightful absurdity of Charlie finding himself inside an alligator calling out for help is played up winningly like in the classic Fields comedies "Million Dollar Legs" and "Never Give A Sucker An Even Break."
Bergen's ventriloquism was not difficult to catch out, something he calls out himself here. (Girl: "How do you talk without moving your lips?" Charlie: "You're asking the wrong man!") But he invests Charlie with a real personality, and the interplay between the two is such it's easy to buy them as a duo rather than a guy talking to himself. I love the bit where they are on a balloon and Edgar asks Charlie to keep a lookout so he can woo Whipsnade's daughter in private.
"You like him, don't you," the daughter asks Bergen about Whipsnade.
"Talk yourself out of that one!" prods Charlie.
The best scenes Fields has in this film have him play off McCarthy and Bergen, except one where Fields works his own ventriloquist act on a stony-faced audience. The rest of the time, he relies on dodging-the-sheriff gags and double-talking a gullible Grady Sutton out of his money.
Apparently Fields didn't get on with credited director George Marshall; the patchiness of a troubled shoot shows up especially at the end, where the carnival setting is ditched for a society soirée where Fields continually shocks the matron by throwing the word "snake" into his outlandish stories, then adjourns for an overlong ping-pong match and more stunt doubling.
Fields kept himself in the public eye during his convalescence doing radio appearances with Edgar and Charlie; at its best "Honest Man" brings some of this revitalizing energy and evergreen insult humor to screen. But there's a lot of fat and fluff on this one, and with Fields seemingly on shaky ground, it's less a film to recommend than a cultural curiosity of its time featuring a recovering legend and a terrific puppet show.