British comedy in the thirties was dominated by acts who progressed from the music hall to the big screen. And Will Hay made this transition better than anyone. His trademark was the officious incompetent who takes charge and spreads calamity while blaming everyone else. He was the boss of this archetype.
In Oh, Mr. Porter he is a station master sent to Northern Ireland so he would at least cause mayhem as far away from head office as possible. There he finds the station under the wily local rules of Hay's usual sidekicks, Moore Marriott and Graham Moffatt. The best, funniest aspect of the film is the three comedians riffing off each other.
There are many great gags in this inspired bickering (Val Guest was among the writers). As so often with comedy films, the laughs thin out when the plot gets going. And this wouldn't be the first (or last) film where stories of a haunting are spread to hide the activities of a criminal gang. But the fight and chase sequences are more imaginative than most.
Hay was the finest pre-war comedy actor in British films and Moore Marriott a brilliant foil, who gets too little recognition. Neither quite reached the same heights in other partnerships. Oh, Mr. Porter is their masterpiece, and among the greatest ever British comedies.