There's a minor subgenre of silents in which a small town full of country folks somehow supports a lavish speakeasy filled with hundreds of folks in tuxedos, until the country folks toss them out. This has some connection to 1920s reality, as little towns comfortably in the sticks suddenly found themselves a short drive from a big city by car, and easily corrupted by big city money; places like Cicero and Calumet City, Illinois became wholly owned subsidiaries of the Chicago mob, and even Southern Wisconsin, for instance, is dotted with roadhouses and "inns" boasting "Al Capone slept and gambled here." You rarely if ever see the big city in movies like The Country Flapper, Delicious Little Devil, The Strong Man or The Boob; the tuxedo-wearing swells seem to generate spontaneously at night, like mushrooms.
The Boob is one of these tales and it suggests that by 1926, the subgenre was familiar enough that it could be kidded and caricatured along the way; the movie is full of broad, humor as well as a special effects dream sequence that seems to have walked straight in out of Winsor McCay's Dreams of a Rarebit Fiend. George K. Arthur is The Boob, Peter Good, whose girl May has fallen for the big city swell who runs the speakeasy (which, speaking of lavish, was apparently a redressed Ben-Hur set!).
After an old-timer teaches him the rudiments of being a rootin-tootin' gunslinger, he sets out after the speakeasy and its owner like Bill Hart in Hell's Hinges, and in a farcical manner reminiscent of The Strong Man, he does bring it down, if not exactly as he planned. If you doubt that The Strong Man was the model, note that Joan Crawford turns up in the decidedly thankless, if at least impressively feminist, role of a big city law enforcement agent whose bestowal of approval on Arthur helps him eventually win May over.
