Harold caused a revolution in the industry of American comic cinema when, at the end of the first decade of the century, he became himself. Up to that time all actors charged with unleashing laughter were at the margins of “normal” man. A moustache, a portly belly, a battered boiler hat or coal smudged eyes were de rigueur. Now a fashionably dressed Harold embodied a victory of youth over the music-hall dinosaurs.

Raymond Borde, Harold Lloyd, Paris 1968