Few situations have defined the concept of “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” more than the brief moment when Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy were forcibly separated as a result of a studio contract dispute, with each of them momentarily going their own direction, while producers attempted to prove that the magic that occurred between the iconic pair could be replicated elsewhere. This is most notable in Zenobia, which functioned as a vehicle for Hardy, who (as gifted an actor and comedian as he may be) really needed his trusted comedic partner in order to reach his full potential, which is far from the case here. It’s difficult to describe this film as anything other than a failed experiment, which is unfortunate considering how it is actually a terrific work, just one that is always going to be known for being one of the first attempts to make a star out of Hardy without Laurel by his side. This does a tremendous disservice to a film that is certainly very decent when discussed objectively – but considering how this film was made with ulterior motives, particular in terms of experimenting with seeing if audiences would be able to respond with the same fervent adoration when presented with only one half of arguably the most iconic comedic duo of their generation, it’s difficult to not bring some subjectivity to the proceedings, which makes Zenobia a challenging film to discuss, especially beyond the inevitable act of lamenting on the nearly complete lack of nuance that informed its creation, and how it really existed for reasons solely to see if something like this could work – and it almost resoundingly didn’t succeed in any conceivable or logical way.

To its credit, something that Zenobia does manage to do quite effectively is found in how it refuses to outright parrot exactly what made the Laurel and Hardy films so endearing, instead offering a very different kind of comedy, one that was still aligned to the general tone and register of their famous work, but deviated in the places that the producers and director knew would never be able to be replicated, at least not without being unfavorably compared. The story centres on a down-on-his-luck doctor living with his high society family in a small Mississippi town, where he is beloved by the workers for his outright compassion and progressive views, but derided by his colleagues in the upper echelons for those same tendencies, which they view as arrogant and too controversial. This is sharply contrasted with the presence of a literal elephant in the room, the good doctor’s newest patient and the source of a lot of terror and pleasure in their idyllic community. This narrative is not particularly unique, and can essentially be done by nearly any comedian with the right amount of dedication to such a bizarre story – and rather than being a vehicle designed specifically for Hardy and Harry Langdon, who was supposed to be his newest on-screen companion, the film feels like it just uses a relatively simple story and designed it to fit with Hardy’s unique talents. It’s difficult to say how effective this approach was, because there really isn’t anything of value to be found throughout the film, since it is far too simple to really get a hold of anything particularly noteworthy, leading to a pleasant but relatively unchallenging work.

If there is some good to come out of Zenobia and its status as very little more than a plan to spite those on the receiving end of the contract dispute, it would be that having Hardy appear in a film without Laurel did showcase how he could hold his own when given the opportunity – this doesn’t mean that they were not the most magnetic pair that could compose pure magic when working together, but rather that they were capable of doing good work on their own. Hardy is very gifted, and while he is not particularly funny here (once again playing the straight man, but in this case, it feels more notable, since none of the more eccentric characters possess the same spark as Laurel), and director Gordon Douglas does effectively make use of Hardy in a way that allows us to momentarily forget his more notable performances. Despite being designed as a vehicle for both Hardy and Langdon, only the former stands out, with the latter (who is not unfunny or without his charms) fading into the background, and almost becoming a villain in a film designed to make audiences not only fall in love with him as an actor, but genuinely consider him a viable partner for Hardy, with whom he was intended to star across multiple films. The ensemble doesn’t work that well, since everyone is operating at different levels, so we can’t ever really gauge the tone or even know where to look at a given moment, because when every actor is demanding attention, none of them actually manages to get it. It doesn’t ruin the film at all, but rather reminds us of what could’ve been done had Zenobia been designed as a Laurel and Hardy vehicle, rather than just featuring half of the duo, which was a fatal and inexplicable blunder.

The problem with Zenobia isn’t only that it is a film that was produced under spiteful circumstances, but that it simply doesn’t know what it wants to be. Douglas was not an untalented director at all, and as one of the more notable journeyman filmmakers working in Hollywood at the time, he was known to turn dreary scripts into terrific films on many occasions. The challenge here is that this film doesn’t have a clear direction – the first half is absolutely fantastic, with the high-society satire being pointed and incredibly funny, filled to the brim with memorable characters and unforgettable jokes. It’s the second half that really causes the film to deflate, mainly because the humour present early on loses steam – but instead of reviving the film with more humorous scenarios, it turns into a prosaic and unconvincing courtroom drama, which would be interesting in its own right (who of us would not be fascinated to hear about the legislature of Mississippi in regards to the ownership of an elephant?), but which really serves no other purpose than filling up the final twenty minutes of the film, and allowing the loose ends to be tied up. Inarguably, this film does have its heart in the right place – it features a surprisingly progressive rhetoric on civil rights, one that may not be perfect, but was still ahead of its time for a film produced in 1939 (although some may argue the presence of characters played by Hattie McDaniel and Stepin Fetchit were contradictory to this same sentiment) – but it falls short of actually achieving greatness, since its ideas come a bit too late, by which point we’ve essentially lost interest, since the film struggles to balance the humour and pathos in a functional and meaningful manner that doesn’t feel clumsy.

Removing all the contextual details, Zenobia is a fine film, and one that does serve its purpose of entertaining audiences. It may not be the funniest work, but it does have many moments of genuine earnestness, none of which feels unearned or redundant. The problem is that it is weighed down by the fact that this was more of an experiment than anything else, with the real-life situation that resulted in its creation being indelible, making this one of the rare cases where actually knowing information about the production spoils the experience, since any logical viewer (especially those who had seen Laurel and Hardy in their element before seeing this) will actively notice the enormous gaps that the filmmakers were scrambling to fill with humour that may be solid, but is far from as enchanting as what could’ve been. Perhaps lamenting the inherent flaws isn’t constructive, since Zenobia is a good film, but realising what could’ve been one of the crowning achievements in the already iconic career of one of cinema’s most phenomenal pairings is difficult to overcome. As a comedy, the film is relatively fun and always enjoyable, but it really doesn’t serve much other purpose, which is ultimately why, in spite of its more solid qualities, it is a relatively paltry and empty experience.