Typically saddled with a henpecking wife and exceedingly selfish, rambunctious children, the often surly and inebriated characters that W.C. Fields played on screen throughout his four-decade career can initially come off as pure embodiments of tortured masculinity. These characters are almost all united by their unquenchable craving to attain the traditional, respected status of “man of the house” and the complete freedom that comes with it. And they frequently see their ambitions—both grand and small—destroyed primarily by the overwhelming pressures and restrictions of domestic life.
More often than not, though, it’s his characters’ unacknowledged ineffectuality—from drunkenness, overly inflated egos, and more—that initially sabotage their best laid plans. Their visions of greatness are really never more than delusions of grandeur, whether it’s the barren California orange grove that Harold Bissonette purchases in Norman McLeod’s It’s a Gift or the initially worthless shares of Beefsteak Mine stock that Egbert Sousè acquires in Edward Cline’s The Bank Dick, yet by turns of pure chance, they always work out in the end.
Fields’s characters are as much rubes as they are dreamers. And it’s the actor’s singular blend of bemusement, arrogance, and cantankerousness that lends a richness and complexity to his comic performances, which fluctuate seamlessly from broad slapstick and absurdist wordplay to subtle yet hilarious movements and gestures, and quickly muttered puns and insults that could easily pass by all but the most attentive audience members.
It’s a Gift, from 1934, brims with such qualities. All but devoid of plot, the film essentially consists of a series of vignettes centered on Fields’s Bissonette (pronounced “Bi-son-ay,” in a joke that only people at least vaguely familiar with French will get), who’s determined to buy an orange grove and move his family across country. Much of the film delights in Harold’s authority being undermined: by his daughter (Jean Rouverol) trying to use the bathroom mirror while he’s shaving, his son (Tommy Bupp) constantly roller skating around the house, and a blind customer (Charles Sellon) accidentally wreaking havoc in Harold’s grocery store as the latter struggles to also assist a man in dire need of 10 pounds of kumquats.
Where It’s a Gift sees the schemes of Fields’s protagonist backfire—until he’s saved from bankruptcy courtesy of a purposely ludicrous deus ex machina—1940’s The Bank Dick finds his character coasting by in a perpetual state of intoxication, riding waves of luck to seemingly inevitable prosperity. As with Harold, Egbert Sousé in The Bank Dick is confident in everything he says or does, even down to his nomenclature, which he declares is Sousé with “an accent grave over the ‘e’” despite his pronunciation and spelling indicating an acute accent.
This state of ignorance as blissfulness epitomizes Egbert, who, while unemployed and sneaking away from his pesky wife and kids for a drink, stumbles onto a film set only to find himself being immediately hired to replace the director, A. Pismo Clam (Jack Norton), who’s too soused to direct himself. He soon ends up accidentally catching a fleeing bank robber, deemed a hero, and instantly assigned to work as the bank’s private dick. The scenarios aren’t inherently funny, but Fields wrings considerable humor through understatement. Case in point, Egbert remains completely unfazed by his dumb luck, instantly accepting positions that he isn’t remotely qualified for, and which he doesn’t even seem particularly interested in.
When the bank’s manager, Mr. Skinner (Pierre Watkin), tells him that the bank opens at 10 in the morning, Egbert responds, “If I’m not here on time, just go right ahead without me. I’ll catch up with ya.” The blasé nature of this response, and the ease with which Egbert moves through every situation in The Bank Dick, exemplifies both the film’s and Fields’s understated brilliance. And it’s this cool indifference, coupled with Egbert’s extraordinary serendipity, that plays so perfectly against the man’s grouchy disposition whenever he’s dealing with his nagging family. Even his blunder of convincing his daughter’s bank teller boyfriend, Og Oggilby (Grady Sutton), to purchase worthless shares of stock ends up earning him a fortune.
The Bank Dick perfects Fields’s formula, mining ingenious comedy by placing his incompetent boozer in increasingly treacherous situations, only to see him fumble about as mysterious twists of fate ensure that he’s sitting fat and happy. And with his family well taken care of, he can finally do the only thing he’s wanted all along: have a drink in peace.
It’s a Gift and The Bank Dick are now available on Blu-ray from KL Studio Classics.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.
