That opposites attract is a particularly attractive belief to filmgoers, but not a universal one. In A Simple Mistake, for instance, the thin Augustus Slip’s passion for Mrs. Hallate (called “Teddy” and “Mme. Feathure” respectively, in the mischievous French version) and her “ponderous” curves is entirely unrequited. Taking advantage of her husband’s absence, the unwanted suitor turns up at her house equipped with flowers and an ardent desire for conquest. He is not discouraged by the audience’s laughs or the well-aimed jabs landed by the reluctant virago, who is eventually compelled to request the help of her housemaid’s eager fiancé, Officer O’Brien. As often happens in Pathé comedies, however, despite the best of intentions the alleged forces of law and order turn out to be unstoppable vehicles of degradation. This case is no exception.
Produced by Pathé subsidiary American Kinema, the film has an excellent comedy dynamic, cleverly reiterating a crescendo of gags, here set in an interplay of misunderstandings whose sturdy narrative cohesion induced an attentive commentator to observe in The Film Index that, despite the English title, “the spectator will find the plot anything but simple”, at least by the comedy standards of the time. In the original version this tourbillon was even more whirling: the woman’s hapless husband was thrown from a second-floor window – a fate spared him in the 28mm copy shown here, for reasons not known (chance? editing requirements?).
Billy Quirk, whose performance here is markedly different in tone from those during his time learning the ropes as an actor under D.W. Griffith at Biograph, constructs the mask of the foppish Augustus Slip (the protagonist of at least one other American Kinema film shot that same year, The Hoodoo) poised between a knowing vaudeville-style wink to the audience and a clever attention for the simple but brilliant psychology of his character. He is thus seen openly addressing to the camera his thoughts on the choice of the best place to hide from the early-returning husband, but also sketching out in a few gestures the behavioural quirks of a neurotic who lifts the hems of his trousers before sitting down, but shortly afterwards is clearly delighted as well as frightened by the back-handed blows with which the robust Mrs. Hallate responds to his blandishments.
The rest of the cast displays an amused team spirit, beginning with the actress playing the Junoesque Mrs. Hallate, repeatedly able to steal the scene from the protagonist, but unfortunately still to be identified (we know that if anyone can name her, we are confident that somebody in the Giornate audience will do the honours), and the unfortunate policeman played by the prolific Paul Panzer, later the villain in the Pearl White serial The Perils of Pauline. But in the final analysis, as a commentator of the time put it, “No printed description can meet the requirements, this picture must be seen to be appreciated.” Absolutely right!
Our thanks to Steve Massa for identifying Paul Panzer.

Stella Dagna