Good episode that relies on knowing the characters enough to well, at this point, they can all poke fun at each other like we've known them for seasons. An example of how fast this show got on the ball. Plus the characters in a sort of action/dangerous situation despite there being little of one and really, none of the other. But this one movies along nicely.
2 Reviews
Go On--Take the Ride. You Won't Get Robbed.
darryl-tahirali28 March 2022
The sly wit and gentle slapstick are certainly important factors, but what makes "The Little Train Robbery" such a delight is its absolute refusal to take itself seriously--or farcically, for that matter--at any stage. Hooterville Valley faces its first "danger" when Eddie Haskell type Arthur Gilroy (John Wilder) and his nerdy sidekick Lowell Rightmeyer (Jimmy Hawkins)--he's even got the geek glasses to prove it--hop aboard the Cannonball en route to Pixley with plans to rob the bank, but when Charley Pratt and Floyd Smoot stop the train at the Shady Rest Hotel for lunch, the impatient young wannabe bandits sit fuming in the passenger car--until Arthur gets a load of fetching Billie Jo.
Of course, Uncle Joe, initially unaware of Billie Jo standing behind him, thinks it was his "salesmanship" that lured them off the Cannonball, the first of his many misunderstandings in Ed James and Seaman Jacobs's tidy script that mark him as the series' pompous buffoon. While sitting down to Kate Bradley's delicious ribs and sauerkraut, the pair learn that, the next day, the Cannonball will be making its non-stop trip from Hooterville to Pixley with a month's worth of bank deposits. And of course Uncle Joe thinks he's talked the duo into staying overnight when really they've already planned to do just that so they can hold up the train en route to Pixley.
And when they force the Cannonball to stop, the hilarity really ensues. First Charley tells them that the lockbox isn't really locked, and when they look inside, there is no money--just deposit slips. And even when Floyd lets slip that Kate's safe back at the Shady Rest contains valuables--well, let's just say that the would-be Botch Clumsily and the Some-Dunce Kid have kittens when they discover the contents.
Not only would this cornball humor never fly in today's blasé, jaded television environment, but it couldn't have looked cutting-edge even during its own time. What sells it is an ensemble cast, led by Bea Benaderet, steering with understated yet absolute assurance around outright farce, that is locking into place as a comedic unit, with even Edgar Buchanan's eye-rolling cluelessness enjoyable to watch as director Sherman Marks keeps the pace strong and focused. Every hoary gag seems to work, even Kate's final yuck when she reveals--well, I wouldn't want to bite off more than I can chew, would I?
Of course, Uncle Joe, initially unaware of Billie Jo standing behind him, thinks it was his "salesmanship" that lured them off the Cannonball, the first of his many misunderstandings in Ed James and Seaman Jacobs's tidy script that mark him as the series' pompous buffoon. While sitting down to Kate Bradley's delicious ribs and sauerkraut, the pair learn that, the next day, the Cannonball will be making its non-stop trip from Hooterville to Pixley with a month's worth of bank deposits. And of course Uncle Joe thinks he's talked the duo into staying overnight when really they've already planned to do just that so they can hold up the train en route to Pixley.
And when they force the Cannonball to stop, the hilarity really ensues. First Charley tells them that the lockbox isn't really locked, and when they look inside, there is no money--just deposit slips. And even when Floyd lets slip that Kate's safe back at the Shady Rest contains valuables--well, let's just say that the would-be Botch Clumsily and the Some-Dunce Kid have kittens when they discover the contents.
Not only would this cornball humor never fly in today's blasé, jaded television environment, but it couldn't have looked cutting-edge even during its own time. What sells it is an ensemble cast, led by Bea Benaderet, steering with understated yet absolute assurance around outright farce, that is locking into place as a comedic unit, with even Edgar Buchanan's eye-rolling cluelessness enjoyable to watch as director Sherman Marks keeps the pace strong and focused. Every hoary gag seems to work, even Kate's final yuck when she reveals--well, I wouldn't want to bite off more than I can chew, would I?
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