The 1935 Charles Laughton star vehicle Ruggles of Red Gap grapples with two versions of America that don’t exist. This comedy, directed by the legendary Leo McCary and written by Walter DeLeon and Harlan Thompson, concerns the most proper English butler that ever lived, Marmaduke Ruggles (Laughton). He makes his living serving as the Earl of Burnstead's (Roland Young) valet in Europe, much like his descendants before him. After one night of poker, Burnstead trades Ruggles to the American couple Egbert (Charlie Ruggles) and Effie Flound (Mary Boland).
Ruggles has no desire to live overseas in “the land of slavery.” This moniker isn’t inaccurate for America, though his vision of the country is. Ruggles envisions, in on-screen daydreams, America as a domain over-run by indigenous people on horseback shooting and killing white settlers. That’s, of course, an appalling reversal of the actual horrors of colonialism. The other inaccurate vision of America comes when Egbert proclaims that “where I come from, all men are equal.” All men, presumably, except for the non-white people. Like, say, the Chinese immigrant restaurant owner Egbert cheerfully (and “comically”) talks about later in Ruggles of Red Gap.
I bring these matters up not because it’s shocking that a 1935 American movie made in the Hays Code era has an idealistic view of this country. Cinema's always presented skewed visions of American history (hi, D.W. Griffith!) and these kinds of depictions are not exclusive to 1935 cinema. Modern movies are just as guilty of presenting obtuse representations of American yesteryear. What’s interesting to me is that two years after Ruggles of Red Gap, Leo McCarey helmed the unflinching Make Way for Tomorrow. This 1937 feature didn’t hold back in depicting grisly discernibly American realities. Here, the camera focuses on how the elderly so often get cast aside or capitalism’s demands, forcing us to work to our graves.
There’s such a contrast in how American life is depicted in two McCarey films made almost consecutively (only other feature separates them). It’s a quality reflecting how often major studio directors in the 30s were gun-for-hires helming films as part of larger production deals (McCarey had a Paramount Pictures deal in the mid-'30s when he made Red Gap). But it also shows McCarey’s varied talents as an artist. In Make Way for Tomorrow, he weaves a devastating yarn that puts brutal aspects of reality on the silver screen. Ruggles of Red Gap, meanwhile, is a feel-good comedy occupying an idealized vision of America.
Ruggles of Red Gap is nowhere near as good of a yukfest or heartwarming charmer as Make Way for Tomorrow is at crushing your heart into dozens of pieces. However, it’s still a mighty amiable and engaging trip. Much of that comes down to Laughton’s work as the titular lead character. For much of his career, Laughton excelled in darker motion pictures. This included his work behind the camera in his solitary directorial effort (and all-time great masterpiece) The Night of the Hunter. Tasked with playing a bubblier fellow who succumbs to the charms of small-town America, though, Laughton's artistic light doesn't flicker. He's as captivating as ever.
It's initially outright startling to see the man from The Big Clock, Witness for the Prosecution, and Mutiny on the Bounty playing someone capable of cracking up into hysterics if you get a few beers into him. However, just because that’s an unexpected sight for some viewers doesn’t mean Laughton is adrift playing such a jovial guy. On the contrary, he lends conviction to this archly drawn fellow. Even when he’s just the broadest British butler stereotype imaginable, Laughton finds little ways of reaffirming Ruggles' distinctive personality. It’s also a hoot to watch Laughton deftly play off Red Gap’s wacky denizens.
Among those citizens is "Ma" Pettingill (Maude Eburne) who has some truly dapper masc-fashion sense. Eburne’s delightfully pronounced performance as “Ma” epitomizes the kind of entertainingly unsubtle acting populating Ruggles of Red Gap. Here, everything from the characters to the laughs to the schmaltzy moments emerge as big as all outdoors. Reunited chums don’t just exchange a hug, they give each other piggyback rides across Parisian streets. Some of those outsized bursts of sentimentality or comedy left me cold.
Far more often than not, though, the sincerity behind this approach won me over. Everyone’s costumes and performances are so idiosyncratic that it’s impossible to mind the lack of nuance. Even requisite love interest character Mrs. Judson (ZaSu Pitts) isn't just a flatly rendered lady existing solely to admonish Ruggles when he acts larger-than-life. She too has outspoken flowery dresses and is happy to go along with wacky schemes like a British-American eatery.
Ruggles of Red Gap fails to occupy any realistic vision of America. However, that doesn’t mean it’s a bad place to visit. An idealized rendering of this country's small town, McCarey’s assured hand in the director’s chair steers Ruggles of Red Gap into the right kind of standard feel-good cinema. Sometimes, well-acted pleasant cinema about finding your home in the most unexpected of places is just what the doctor ordered. That’s especially true when you have a master performer like Charles Laughton around to anchor the proceedings. It’s no Make Way for Tomorrow, but Ruggles of Red Gap has plenty of unique charms.