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Perhaps the two silent film comics who achieved fame most rapidly were Charles Chaplin and Harry Langdon. If queried, most casual observers can note Chaplin as a movie star. He’s an iconic figure. Far fewer would name Langdon. His feature films are not regularly shown on Turner Classic Movies, for example, as are Chaplin’s, Buster Keaton’s and Harold Lloyd’s. Nevertheless, Langdon and Chaplin were the best of the silent era, and the former merits a resurgence of interest.

Two books do an excellent job of charting the progression of these film comics’ unique styles. “The Silent Films of Harry Langdon: 1923-1928” (Scarecrow Press, 2012), by James L. Neibaur, link to book here, and “Chaplin’s Vintage Year: The History of the Mutual Chaplin Specials” (Bear Manor Media, 2013), by Michael J. Hayde, link to book here, provide an opportunity for fans of silent comedy cinema to learn more. These are genre books, not introductory texts. Readers are advised to sample the Chaplin Mutuals or Langdon’s shorts with Mack Sennett, or features with First National, prior to reading. Virtually all the films can be purchased on DVD, and a surprisingly high number can be viewed on YouTube.

As Neibaur relates in his book, Langdon was a vaudeville star who was a considered a good bet by producer Sennett as a comedy two-reeler star. He didn’t disappoint. Not only were his shorts successful, Langdon gradually developed a comic persona, “the little elf,” who amused audiences by under-reacting physically to events. Instead of a fast-paced, slapstick style, Langdon would use his facial expressions, his eyes, a nod of his head, a smile, or unrealization of the perils surrounding him, whether romantic or dangerous. Langdon’s comedy often relied on scenes taking longer than what was the norm for a two-reel comedy. As Langdon evolved his style, and found an excellent director, Harry Edwards, he became a star. Some of the best shorts are “Saturday Afternoon,” “The Sea Squawk,” and “All Night Long.”

Langdon’s child-like persons partially obscured an anti-conventional edginess that would become more visible in his features. Neibaur points out an edgy bit in “All Night Long” when Harry’s character tries to snatch food from the table during what is thought is prayer time. Actually, the elder has fallen asleep. The others believe he is praying.

As Neibaur notes, once Langdon got the call to make feature films with First National, his first two films, “Tramp, Tramp, Tramp,” (with Joan Crawford), and “The Strong Man,” were successful. The former was directed by Edwards, the latter by Frank Capra. “The Strong Man” has Langdon patiently searching for his lady love and inadvertently cleansing a wicked town. Capra saw Langdon as a little elf with only one ally, God. The traditional values that Capra later honed in “Mr. Smith Goes To Washington” and “It’s a Wonderful Life” were echoed in the early Langdon features, and the audiences responded positively.

Langdon’s third feature, “Long Pants,” started an edgy shift in Langdon’s comedy that explored — in greater detail — darker themes, such as lust, murder, complete failure, dashed hopes, unfulfilled longing, gender confusion, and suicide, etc. Capra and Langdon clashed, and Capra was fired, though he is the named director of “Long Pants.” Langdon directed his final three films, “Three’s A Crowd,” “The Chaser,” and the now-lost “Heart Trouble.” The last three lost money and Langdon was fired by 1928. He would never star in an “A” feature again, working mostly as the star in low-budget talkie comedy shorts.

Neibaur presents a strong case, echoed by others, that Langdon’s later features merit reconsideration. I personally regard “Three’s A Crowd” as a masterpiece, as good as Keaton’s The General” and Chaplin’s “The Kid.” Langdon plays a lonely menial worker who longs for a wife and child. Through circumstances, he cares for a runaway wife, who delivers a baby. Despite the events, one senses his “luck” can’t last. The husband, now reformed, returns to collect his wife, and they leave. Harry is alone again. The end. This is far edgier than Chaplin’s “The Kid,” and although there is less comedy, what’s there is funny and poignant.

Reading Hayde’s Chaplin book, one notes how popular Chaplin was 98 years ago. For the 12 Mutual shorts, Chaplin was paid $670,000 in 1916, $15 million in today’s dollars. Chaplin was so popular that his two-reelers often played as “features” in movie houses. And despite Chaplin’s very expensive asking price, the Mutual shorts made millions for the producers.

The Mutual comedy shorts are easy to find. Some are on YouTube. They can be purchased via DVD. A silent movie revival house in Salt Lake City recently showed them. Chaplin created the character of the “little tramp,” with specific, iconic movements and mannerisms and a deadpan face. His biggest asset — he was funny and could evoke pathos that won viewers’ hearts. It’s not surprising that author Hayde describes the Mutual shorts as “vintage;” they have a staying power that remains strong today.

While Neibaur’s book focuses more on what’s on the screen, Hayde delves more into the production details of Chaplin’s career, focusing also on Chaplin’s deep desire to maintain control of his films, his frequent switching from one film company to another, and the back stories of other performers, including the comic’s then-paramour, Edna Purviance, who co-starred in many of the Mutuals.

Chaplin was aware of his talent and his drawing power, and he knew that in his case, the star, not the backers, made the rules. As for the films, some of my favorites are “The Pawnbroker,” “The Fireman” and “One A.M.” Hayde provides details and analysis of them all. As mentioned, they are on YouTube, and I urge readers to watch one today.

A final note: Chaplin achieved lifelong fame that endures today. Langdon did not. His name is rarely included with Chaplin, Keaton and Lloyd as the best silent comics. One reason for Langdon’s obscurity was a lifelong animus held toward Langdon by Capra, who for 50 years maligned Langdon, even slamming the comic in his autobiography, claiming he created his genius and that Langdon was a hick who had no idea what his films were about. It’s unfortunate that Capra possessed this character flaw, but in the past generation, with the Internet and more genre research, his claims have been debunked, and hopefully we’ll see more of Langdon’s work. Personally, I’d love to see “The Strong Man” or “Three’s a Crowd” at the Egyptian Theatre with a couple of the Chaplin Mutual shorts also on the bill.

dgibson@standard.net. To read an interview with author James L. Neibaur, go here.