In "The Boob," there's a scene where an Old West painting comes to life as a motion picture--a mise-en-abyme that Cactus Jim employs to describe his slaughtering of Indians to the outer story's hero, who's unimaginatively named "Peter Good." Besides being the most interesting moment in this otherwise forgettable silent comedy, the film-within-the-film, or boob-tube-like projection, allows Cactus Jim to synthesize his racism with his misogyny, as he explains to Peter that, "If I could clean out the whole Indian army, you oughta be able to stampede one fool female girl."
Otherwise, the effects here are uneven. The fight on a moving car includes some impressive stunt work and trick shots, including a subsequent nightmare that looks like an early Georges Méliès féerie with its superimposed automobile driving through the sky. Some slow and reverse-motion photography for a scene involving a dog and a broken bottle of booze and a long and laugh-less routine involving some inconsequential character's incompetence at eating, however, entirely fall flat. Moreover, this comedy neglects being funny throughout. Cactus Jim's bow-legged drunkenness is as lacking in charm as his bigotry. There's an African American child who's named, of all things, "Ham Bunn" and who's introduced with a comparison of him to a dog and a casual racial dig of him being Peter's "shadow." (Meanwhile, Benzie the dog is Ham's "dogged echo.") There are also the too-common intertitles affecting a supposed black dialect as written by white people.
The main story is the usual trite love triangle between a couple country boobs (bumpkins, that is) and the other man from the city, who, of course, is the villain. Turns out, the city slicker is a bootlegger, too, among other dastardly deeds. Why not? Anyways, all of this is poorly plotted with too many episodes that aren't funny and sometimes don't even seem to have been meant to be. I mean, how does dwelling on the home for impoverished women add to the slapstick? Did they really think they were injecting Chaplin-esque pathos here? A graveyard scene is also unfunny and rather inexplicable as to Peter meeting the Treasury agent, disguised as someone bereaved, there. Probably the main interest here for classic cinema fans is that the agent is played by a pre-stardom Joan Crawford. She comes off better than anyone else here, but that's not saying much, for what is otherwise a thankless small part.
At first, it may seem surprising that this was directed by William A. Wellman, who the very next year would supervise one of the inaugural Best Picture Oscar winners, "Wings" (1927). But, there are a few visual similarities. As in "Wings," there's a scene with a couple on a swing, with the camera swinging along with them. There are also glossy close-ups with blurred backgrounds in both. Plus, "Wings," too, involves impressive mechanical and photographic effects within what is essentially another love triangle, although, especially with Clara Bow, the boobs are more alluring. "The Boob," on the other hand, is not recommended.
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