As an avowed Laurel and Hardy fan, I must say that Big Business falls into a special category all its own. I find the simple, deliberate nature of it immensely appealing. There is something downright innocent about the long-lost freshness of those semi-developed streets of Culver City and environs on that sunny December morning in 28 and they add a quality of mise-en-scene which was surely never foreseen back then. The snowballing reciprocal destruction starts innocently enough: an errant branch of Christmas tree--that symbol of peace and goodwill to men--gets caught in Jimmy Finlayson's front door once too often
and ends up with extensive property damage on both sides. But each step in the progressively destructive game is almost reasonable
its just when one contrasts point A with point Z that the absurdity, and the comedy, of the situation is so apparent. Produced on the cusp of the talkies, Big Business is also a sort of frantic paean to a lost art. And, in a strange way, unlike so many of their other films, Stan and Ollie are triumphant as they run from officer Tiny Sanford into the fade out. For as Jimmy lights up his exploding cigar, they are the ones lucky enough to have gotten in their last licks. In spite of losing the battle, they have won the war. One can almost smell the fragrance of pine needles intermingling with the stench of burning Model T
