To avoid any confusion, I have to make clear that this is an update of a previous review I did on this short film. As I grow older, I find it increasingly necessary to add new reflections and insights into old reviews, so this is in itself a quite normal thing for me to do. What is extraordinary in this case, however, is that this new review is not just an updated version with a few new thoughts: it is, in fact, a review in which I've changed my mind on the film completely.<br /><br />When I first saw THE FATAL GLASS OF BEER, I was puzzled. I had never seen a W.C. Fields-film before, but I was well acquainted with most of the other comics from the 'golden era' and was excited to be introduced to this celebrated talent. I'd read several reviews of this film and taking all the praise into consideration, I assumed it would serve as a good start. I put the video in the player and was ready for a good time filled with laughs. 18 minutes later. Eh..? I knew the film was public domain; could it be that the distributor of my tape had left out all the gags and punch-lines on purpose? Through research I was convinced that I had, indeed, seen the entire thing. And the entire thing was, I thought, not much of a thing. If you've seen the film, you know what happens.<br /><br />In my previous review, I wrote: "The part where the parents ask if their boy has any money left could have developed into a situation full of funny mistakes, but the film ends very abruptly and cynically," and "Maybe I'm too soft-hearted, but I can't say I found this ending funny. Had it been a Keystone-comedy from 1913 I could have accepted it, but Fields could do better. Fields widely portrayed cynical men, but this was too much for me, especially as the parents were so warm-hearted at first." Like the critics (and audiences) of the time BEER was released, the comfort in familiarity out-won any open-mindedness in me to accept something different. My statement "Had it been a Keystone-comedy..." reveals that I had become a prisoner of my own taste; I saw the film in context to comedies I was familiar with and enjoyed, interpreting its humor within the frames which Charlie and Buster had already established in me. I expected the pure gags which other comedians had performed so wonderfully at all times. I didn't get 'em. But that was hardly a coincidence.<br /><br />Yes, a few demonstrations of Fields's familiar word-play may be found here: "He won't take Balto, my lead dog, 'cause I et him. He was mighty good with mustard." However, unlike in IT'S A GIFT and THE BANK DICK, in which Fields surprises us with one hilarious punch-line after the other, the verbal gags are at best only mildly amusing, serving as little more than "fillers" in order to maintain the interest of the viewer. What is remarkable about this two-reeler is perhaps not so much the dialogue in itself but rather the circumstances from which the dialogue, and the situations, evolve; it is not meant to be taken seriously. When his son has just arrived home, Fields remarks, while standing besides the boy and crying wife, "But I don't suppose we'll have him with us long..." Then he walks out of frame, stands with one foot on a chair, looks directly into the camera, and exclaims: "O-h-once the c-ihity ge-hets i-hinto a bo-hoy's system ... he lo-hoses his a-hankerin' fo-hor the co-hountry." I can honestly tell you that no line has made me laugh so uncontrollably hard in quite a while. Yes, the performer reveals his own consciousness of the camera that is filming him; that is the whole point, and that is what makes it so inconsistently side-splitting. When this film was made in 1933, the film industry was filled with melodramas which inexhaustibly tried to maintain its impression of being a mirror of the real world and not reveal the performer's consciousness of the fact that they were being filmed, in an attempt to appear convincing to the public. At the same time, however, these same performers in these same melodramas could suddenly be caught talking directly into the camera, spoiling any illusion if there ever was one. THE FATAL GLASS OF BEER pokes fun at the predictable Hollywood-productions of the time and it does it through such brilliant subtlety that it at times is hard to realize the funny parts; but once you get them, you get them well. "And it ain't a fit night out, for man or beast!" Fields exclaims while witnessing the snow-storm from his door. Each time he exclaims this line, a handful of snow is thrown directly into his face. When the storm has stopped, Fields nevertheless exclaims the same sentence. And the handful of snow is thrown in his face again, despite the fact that the storm has stopped. I almost cracked up.<br /><br />Now, about the ending which I previously found so cynical. Well, it is hardly uplifting. But once you understand the irony and surrealism which this movie possesses, you realize that it doesn't matter; because, as we have seen through the terrible camera-work and exaggerated emotional reunions, this is not the real world. It is not even a parody on the real world, as comedy so often claims to be. It is a parody on an unreality --alias, melodramas-- which hopelessly wishes to be taken as reality, when every "jabbernowl" knows it isn't.<br /><br />Disappointed, I tried some of Fields's features and loved them immensely. Recently (Feb. 08), having long rejected to see BEER again, I gave it another try; and I think you should do so, too, if you happen to share my previous opinions. And if you still don't get it, try another twenty times. It is hilarious, if you let it.