Elsa Lanchester has always been a favorite of mine. She's one of those rare character actors you wish you could hang out with; she comes off like someone well worth knowing. I haven't read her autobiography as yet, but know a few basic facts about her: she grew up in a Bohemian family, performed in the British music-halls from an early age, and was married to Charles Laughton for many years. I dimly recall seeing her on the Dick Cavett Show a long time ago, but otherwise know her mostly from her film and TV appearances, where she usually played slightly dotty eccentrics, or, occasionally, sinister characters. What I never knew until recently was that, in the late 1920s, she appeared in three silent comedy shorts, written by—of all people—H. G. Wells! (An author not usually associated with comedy.) I've now seen one of these shorts, Blue Bottles, which is not only enjoyable in its own right, but also provides Lanchester with a good comic role, as well as a memorable bit part for Laughton, in his film debut.
The premise is simple. Elsa, playing herself, is walking home from the music-hall one night when she notices a discarded police whistle on the sidewalk. What she doesn't know is that, minutes earlier, a gang of crooks had knocked a bobby unconscious on this spot, and dragged him into their hideout. This was his whistle, and she's standing right in front of the crooks' hideout. Curious, and without quite realizing what she's doing, Elsa gives the whistle a toot. Thereupon, all hell breaks loose. Next thing you know, bobbies are arriving a large numbers, ready for action. They invade the crook's hideout, and a shoot-out erupts. Elsa gets caught in the fray, and tries desperately to stay safe and protect herself.
(Watch closely during the shoot-out: the rotund crook, who laughs maniacally as he shoots at Elsa from behind an overturned chair, is her fiancée Charles Laughton, in his film debut.)
Elsa, though semi-dazed after a clout on the head, manages to subdue several crooks, then flee the scene without being noticed. But she leaves behind her hat, and it's used to identify and locate her. The next morning a cop shows up at her rooming house to bring her in. She's terrified, but there are several more twists in store before her comic ordeal comes to an ironic close.
Blue Bottles is droll, spirited and suspenseful. Lanchester, with her big expressive eyes and childlike demeanor, makes a perfectly sympathetic and appealing central figure. There are a number of amusing gags along the way, including some clever cinematic touches, to keep things fresh. For instance, when Elsa blows the whistle, there follows a montage of ever-increasing tempo and intensity: nearby bobbies react, blow their own whistles, run down streets, etc. What we see is initially realistic, but then there are shots of soldiers in combat, tanks, plane flying overhead, a battleship, etc. Thus, a dramatic montage turns into a comic one. Later, during the shoot-out in the crooks' lair, similar transitions occur as grim situations turn into comic routines. The balance is deftly maintained, and the sequence is both exciting and funny.
At this writing, Blue Bottles can be viewed online, but unfortunately the available print was poorly transferred: the image is blurry, and the action is too slow. Even so, the quality comes across. I'd love to see a good print of this short—and the other Lanchester-Wells collaborations, if they're available. Blue Bottles would make an ideal curtain-raiser to one of Alfred Hitchcock melodramas of the period, such as The Lodger or Blackmail. After all, it's a crime story set in London, featuring an innocent person thrust into a dangerous situation. Very Hitchcock-like, only played for laughs; and if it were to be screened for audiences today, I believe it would still earn them.