Mention the name Norman Wisdom to many and the chances are the first thing they think of is of him in that ill-fitting 'gump' suit, mugging frantically, falling over to the strangulated cry of 'Mr.Grimsdale!'. Comedy film fans may make the sign of the cross at his name, but the fact is he was the No.1 British box office star for well over a decade.
There is nothing pretentious about him or his films. You do not need to be 'in' on the joke because there is nothing to be in on. Now it is very different - unfunny material can make millions for its creators as long as it is perceived to be 'cutting-edge'. Norman's brand of knockout comedy was old hat even in his hey-day, owing a debt to silent era comics such as Chaplin and Keaton. But he soon put on his own stamp on the genre, finding out what worked for him and what did not.
His regular 'stooges' were Edward Chapman as his boss, the aforementioned 'Mr.Grimsdale', and long-faced Jerry Desmonde as the pompous authority figure whose side Norman becomes a thorn in.
'The Early Bird' was the last time all three appeared together. It came along at a time when British film comedy was becoming less and less family oriented ( look at 1966's 'Doctor In Clover' and compare it with the earlier Dirk Bogarde ones ). Norman tried to move with the times by going into colour, and then parted company with his producer Hugh Stewart, who went on to make three pictures with Morecambe and Wise.
Norman once more is 'Pitkin', this time a milkman for Grimsdale's Dairies, a small-town firm under threat from the much-bigger 'Consolidated Dairies'. When he finds broken bottles on his round, it amounts to a declaration of war.
Consolidated Dairies's top milkman is 'Austin' ( Brian Pringle ), and when they confront one another in a deserted street it is like 'High Noon' all over again. "Little men like you do not stand a chance!", sneers Austin, before landing a nasty-looking punch to Pitkin's jaw. But when the 'little man' is Norman, he is in with more than just a chance.
Right, that's the premise established. What about the slapstick? Well, Norman is dragged through Desmonde's garden on an out of control lawnmower, disguises himself as a vicar to gatecrash Desmonde's game of golf with 'The Colonel' ( John Le Mesurier ), eats doped apples intended for his horse Nellie ( a sequence more disturbing than all 75 minutes of Roger Corman's 'The Trip' ), falls downstairs goodness knows how many times, and manages to nearly demolish Consolidated Dairies's H.Q. No wonder Norman was offered the role of 'Frank Spencer' before Michael Crawford.
Corny? Yes. But there's nothing wrong with corn. Despite the many fun moments, Norman's popularity was in rapid decline. His next picture - 'Press For Time' - combined the knockabout stuff with a half-hearted attempt at political satire, and his 1969 offering 'What's Good For The Goose' saw him shedding the cloth-cap ( along with everything else ) by jumping into bed with Sally Geeson of 'Bless This House'.
Whether you like 'The Early Bird' depends on whether you like Norman, and to many he is simply is not funny. But he gave a lot of pleasure to an awful of people - including the entire population of Albania - and I suspect his cheap and cheerful movies will still be gracing Saturday afternoons long after the 'cutting-edge' stuff has been forgotten.
There is nothing pretentious about him or his films. You do not need to be 'in' on the joke because there is nothing to be in on. Now it is very different - unfunny material can make millions for its creators as long as it is perceived to be 'cutting-edge'. Norman's brand of knockout comedy was old hat even in his hey-day, owing a debt to silent era comics such as Chaplin and Keaton. But he soon put on his own stamp on the genre, finding out what worked for him and what did not.
His regular 'stooges' were Edward Chapman as his boss, the aforementioned 'Mr.Grimsdale', and long-faced Jerry Desmonde as the pompous authority figure whose side Norman becomes a thorn in.
'The Early Bird' was the last time all three appeared together. It came along at a time when British film comedy was becoming less and less family oriented ( look at 1966's 'Doctor In Clover' and compare it with the earlier Dirk Bogarde ones ). Norman tried to move with the times by going into colour, and then parted company with his producer Hugh Stewart, who went on to make three pictures with Morecambe and Wise.
Norman once more is 'Pitkin', this time a milkman for Grimsdale's Dairies, a small-town firm under threat from the much-bigger 'Consolidated Dairies'. When he finds broken bottles on his round, it amounts to a declaration of war.
Consolidated Dairies's top milkman is 'Austin' ( Brian Pringle ), and when they confront one another in a deserted street it is like 'High Noon' all over again. "Little men like you do not stand a chance!", sneers Austin, before landing a nasty-looking punch to Pitkin's jaw. But when the 'little man' is Norman, he is in with more than just a chance.
Right, that's the premise established. What about the slapstick? Well, Norman is dragged through Desmonde's garden on an out of control lawnmower, disguises himself as a vicar to gatecrash Desmonde's game of golf with 'The Colonel' ( John Le Mesurier ), eats doped apples intended for his horse Nellie ( a sequence more disturbing than all 75 minutes of Roger Corman's 'The Trip' ), falls downstairs goodness knows how many times, and manages to nearly demolish Consolidated Dairies's H.Q. No wonder Norman was offered the role of 'Frank Spencer' before Michael Crawford.
Corny? Yes. But there's nothing wrong with corn. Despite the many fun moments, Norman's popularity was in rapid decline. His next picture - 'Press For Time' - combined the knockabout stuff with a half-hearted attempt at political satire, and his 1969 offering 'What's Good For The Goose' saw him shedding the cloth-cap ( along with everything else ) by jumping into bed with Sally Geeson of 'Bless This House'.
Whether you like 'The Early Bird' depends on whether you like Norman, and to many he is simply is not funny. But he gave a lot of pleasure to an awful of people - including the entire population of Albania - and I suspect his cheap and cheerful movies will still be gracing Saturday afternoons long after the 'cutting-edge' stuff has been forgotten.