He's almost completely forgotten today, but for a couple of years in the mid-1920s Glenn Tryon was one of several comedians Hal Roach signed and tried to boost to stardom. After the departure of Harold Lloyd from the studio in 1923, Tryon starred in two features that had been intended for Lloyd. Roach's other would-be stars of the period included Clyde Cook, Snub Pollard, Jimmy Finlayson, Tyler Brooke, Will Rogers and Stan Laurel. Rogers wouldn't achieve top movie stardom until talkies came along, while Laurel, of course, wasn't a major star until he teamed with Oliver Hardy in 1927. Meanwhile, however, there was Glenn Tryon. I've watched several of the guy's comedies and, while he's modestly appealing, frankly I can see why he didn't exactly set the world on fire. He was rather handsome, resembling Bob Cummings with a hint of Billy Haines. In the late '20s Tryon starred in two memorable features for Paul Fejos, then he became a writer and director. I don't know if he contributed any ideas to the comedies he made at Roach, but his material is generally weaker than the average Roach product from the same period, more like imitation Sennett-style antics than the comparatively subtle, situation-based comedy we expect from this studio. In two of the Tryon shorts I've seen, Along Came Auntie and this one, the opening scenes are promising but comic invention soon flags, at which point the plot is thrown out the window and the actors just chase each other, and indulge in tiresome fist-fights. Tryon seemed to have a penchant for dressing up in ladies' clothing, but wasn't especially funny when he did so, and his comedies also featured risqué situations that could turn vulgar -- again, without the crucial wit that can make such routines enjoyable.
45 Minutes from Hollywood is better remembered than Tryon's other efforts, not because it's good (it isn't, especially) but because of the supporting cast. The opening sequence introduces our hero as a rural boy named Orville who is sent to Hollywood with his sister and Grandpa to make a mortgage payment on their property. Why Hollywood? Why not, say, Duluth? Because they don't have movie stars in Duluth! We're primed to expect a satire on the motion picture capital as Grandpa excitedly reads a movie magazine and anticipates meeting Gloria Swanson, Pola Negri, etc. The eager trio have some difficulty making their train on time, but then poor Grandpa is unceremoniously dumped and left behind. When Orville and his sister arrive at their destination we are treated to a fascinating, action-packed, surreal image of "Hollywood -- A Quiet Morning" featuring a stunt man dangling from a plane while animated elephants and dinosaurs cavort in the background. The process work isn't the greatest, even for the period, but the bit is charming nonetheless and whets our appetite for more fun scenes. Next, Orville and his sister take a ride on a double-decker bus, as the conductor points out various stars visible on the sidewalk: the Our Gang kids, the Hal Roach Bathing Beauties, and the one and only Theda Bara, seen in a brief snippet from her concurrent, Roach- produced comedy Madam Mystery.
Unfortunately, this is where the story takes a wrong turn and never recovers. Orville gets involved with some crooks who have robbed a bank, and winds up at a nearby hotel with one of the hold-up men, who is inexplicably dressed in drag. The crook knocks Orville unconscious and switches clothes with him. Upon awakening, the bewigged Orville spends way too much time trying to elude a hotel detective, who is played by Oliver Hardy. Hardy manages to elicit more laughter with a couple of eloquent facial expressions than Tryon earns with all his mugging and dashing about. The last portion of the film substitutes non-stop fighting for any real comedy, topped by a closing gag in poor taste. The setting was wasted, and the film may as well have been set in Duluth after all. There's one more surprise, however: during the climactic donnybrook some of the players tumble into a room inhabited by a mustachioed character, a man identified as a "Starving Actor," sitting up in his bed. Underneath that mustache is Stan Laurel, and although he and Ollie have no scenes together, this near-meeting marks their first appearance together at the Roach Studio, where they would soon produce their great comedies.
That's the one minor claim to fame held by this otherwise forgettable, disappointing comedy. As for Glenn Tryon . . . well, nice try.
45 Minutes from Hollywood is better remembered than Tryon's other efforts, not because it's good (it isn't, especially) but because of the supporting cast. The opening sequence introduces our hero as a rural boy named Orville who is sent to Hollywood with his sister and Grandpa to make a mortgage payment on their property. Why Hollywood? Why not, say, Duluth? Because they don't have movie stars in Duluth! We're primed to expect a satire on the motion picture capital as Grandpa excitedly reads a movie magazine and anticipates meeting Gloria Swanson, Pola Negri, etc. The eager trio have some difficulty making their train on time, but then poor Grandpa is unceremoniously dumped and left behind. When Orville and his sister arrive at their destination we are treated to a fascinating, action-packed, surreal image of "Hollywood -- A Quiet Morning" featuring a stunt man dangling from a plane while animated elephants and dinosaurs cavort in the background. The process work isn't the greatest, even for the period, but the bit is charming nonetheless and whets our appetite for more fun scenes. Next, Orville and his sister take a ride on a double-decker bus, as the conductor points out various stars visible on the sidewalk: the Our Gang kids, the Hal Roach Bathing Beauties, and the one and only Theda Bara, seen in a brief snippet from her concurrent, Roach- produced comedy Madam Mystery.
Unfortunately, this is where the story takes a wrong turn and never recovers. Orville gets involved with some crooks who have robbed a bank, and winds up at a nearby hotel with one of the hold-up men, who is inexplicably dressed in drag. The crook knocks Orville unconscious and switches clothes with him. Upon awakening, the bewigged Orville spends way too much time trying to elude a hotel detective, who is played by Oliver Hardy. Hardy manages to elicit more laughter with a couple of eloquent facial expressions than Tryon earns with all his mugging and dashing about. The last portion of the film substitutes non-stop fighting for any real comedy, topped by a closing gag in poor taste. The setting was wasted, and the film may as well have been set in Duluth after all. There's one more surprise, however: during the climactic donnybrook some of the players tumble into a room inhabited by a mustachioed character, a man identified as a "Starving Actor," sitting up in his bed. Underneath that mustache is Stan Laurel, and although he and Ollie have no scenes together, this near-meeting marks their first appearance together at the Roach Studio, where they would soon produce their great comedies.
That's the one minor claim to fame held by this otherwise forgettable, disappointing comedy. As for Glenn Tryon . . . well, nice try.