If one were to return to the dawn of the talking picture, one would prophesy a bright future for Harold Lloyd. Unlike his competitors, he was comedic actor trained on the legitimate stage not a performed raised in the purgatory of the music hall or vaudeville circuit. He had a good voice which matched his image. Moreover, from 1924 on, his "silent" films had incorporated sequences based on sound gags lost on the audience (e.g., the bell sequence at the Fall Frolic from THE FRESHMAN and the monkey sequence in THE KID BROTHER). Yet Lloyd's sound features consistently failed at the box office once the novelty of WELCOME DANGER had ebbed. Lloyd blamed his fall on many external sources, but never realized that the Glass character's enemy was not sound but the Great Depression. Pre-Depression audiences, giddy with optimism, may have rooted for this ambitious go-getter in whom they saw their surrogate; Depression audiences despised him as the person likely to foreclose on their mortgage and throw them in the gutter. Compounding this problem of character choice is Lloyd's perception as an insincere glad hander. Sincerity, of course, is a subjective appraisal, but it is undeniable that Lloyd, despite his own tragic upbringing, could never play a convincing down-and-outer. Perhaps this is because he feared returning to that state permanently. THE CAT'S-PAW fails for these reasons, but it alone suffers from the revelation of Lloyd's pro-fascist agenda. Many film scholars believe that Lloyd was prompted to make this film because he saw the presidency of FDR as a dictatorship bent on soaking the rich and soft on crime. We should remember that he was not alone in this feeling. DeMille had directed THIS DAY AND AGE, a pro-police state drama, the previous year. We should also remember that America was founded by hotheaded tax protesters and continues to be motivated by those who want something without paying for it. TCP suffered because it treated fascism lightly in a "comedy" and because its release was particularly ill-timed given the events in Germany in that year. The Production Code of 1934 would ultimately curtail the glorification of vigilante justice and reaffirm the rule of constitutional law, cumbersome as it might be. The ideal of the benevolent despot, the good-intentioned all-powerful leader who brings about a utopia once freed of the checks and balances on this omnipotence, dates to classical antiquity. For this reason, totalitarian regimes fear laughter even though it acts as a safety valve. Ironically, the mere existence of TCP, a film which demonizes the democratic experience of the country of its origin, shows that FDR's America was secure enough to accept criticism. One sees no parallel criticism in Hitler's Germany, Stalin's USSR, or Mussolini's Italy. But can one laugh at the gallows humor of pending fascism? Lloyd's unnuanced film is skewed to the right and might have been written by Dr Goebbels himself if he'd had a sense of humor, of course. It posits an alternative history in which a chosen one restores order and lost honor BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY, and does so with good nature and fun. Impending fascism approached by the left is, of course, Chaplin's THE GREAT DICTATOR. This latter film has the benefit of being set in another country and based on a thinly veiled actual persona and events. THE GREAT DICTATOR produces few laughs today because it under-estimated the extent of human evil, but it succeeds despite its artless and inappropriate speechifying, because it has the distinct advantage of being vindicated by history. Lloyd, however, should be credited for two things: first, he neither made any further pro-fascist films nor produced any subsequently hypocritically pro-allied films during the War: second, he never sold TCP to television. The post-1945 world had seen the face of fascism and it wasn't amusing.