Indeed, the well-meaning but far from dextrous Miles Blundell had somehow contrived to wrap the pull-rope leading to the valve mechanism around his foot, and could be seen moving that extremity to and fro, a bewildered look on his wide, honest face, in hopes that the spring-loaded valve would thus, somehow, close again—for it had already allowed an enormous quantity of hydrogen gas to escape the envelope in a sudden rush, causing the ship to plummet toward the lakeside like a toy dropped by some cosmic urchin.
* * * * * * * * * *
Pure slapstick with maybe a hint of comic book culture at the end. Because that image of a cosmic urchin sending a toy airship crashing down to the surface of Earth just appeared in my mind as a Jack Kirby piece in all its 4-color glory. I could also picture it as Steve Ditko art but when the term "cosmic" is used, my mind first sticks Kirby art in there.
Miles Blundell is the blunderer. He's the Curly or the Costello who just can't help screwing up physical labor. I'd also include Stan Laurel but he's skinny and an anomaly to the trope; usually it's the overweight guy who everybody automatically believes is a clumsy oaf. From my own experience being a fat kid in junior high, let me tell you, you'll never see a more shocked look on a kid's face than when the fat kid makes a crazily athletic baseball play when he was, somehow, allowed to play infield instead of being stuck out in right field.
I never understood why it was assumed the fat kid couldn't play infield. It's fucking baseball. You barely move at all! The fat kid's kryptonite was running for long periods not short bursts to catch a passing ball! I totally understood why I was always the goalie in soccer. I probably begged for it! Fuck all that running!
If this scene were on a television show, it would be backed by the most annoying laugh track.
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