Three things are certain in life: death, taxes, and the destruction of any place Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy inhabit—in their many movies, that is. This compilation set of four Blu-ray discs serves as a good sampler of the legendary comedy team's career, which spanned 35 years, beginning with 1921's The Lucky Dog (not included in this set). The latter was made for comedy shorts producer Max Roach, whose studio served as home to Laurel and Hardy until 1940. The earliest title here is 1027's silent The Battle of the Century, deservedly famous for an epic pie fight that engages half a town. Disc one also includes the almost-feature-length, sound-era Sons of the Desert, in which the boys obligate themselves to attend a convention but face the wrath of their wives, who have other ideas. Slapstick anarchy follows; a house is destroyed, and poor Ollie, as always, takes the brunt of the pain. In Me and My Pal, Hardy improbably plays a well-heeled corporate executive due to marry the boss' daughter in a matter of minutes. Laurel is his usual dizzy self as the best man who comes to collect his friend at Hardy's mansion. A simple idea for a funny obstacle (an unfinished jigsaw puzzle that captivates everyone who comes near it) upends the social event of the season and, yes, instigates the destruction of a house. Busy Bodies brings more mayhem to a sawmill, where Laurel and Hardy never looked more comically out of place in their dainty gloves and bowler hats. Another near-feature, Way Out West, unfortunately, notorious for a scene in which the partners perform a fey dance in a rugged cowboy town, is also here. There are a couple of oddities on the fourth disc, including That's That, a cleverly edited compilation of outtakes made by Roach in 1937 for Laurel's birthday. Finally, there is the 1942 The Tree In a Test Tube, a bit of wartime self-promotion for the lumber and wood products industries, featuring Laurel and Hardy in the first few minutes doing some charming vaudeville nonsense with the items in their pockets. The whole Blu-ray package simply makes one realize just how funny these guys were, even if their films (some directed by directors, such as George Marshall, who went on to better things) never achieve the majesty of Chaplin. The very idea of Laurel and Hardy's oddball characters, with their own idiosyncratic repertoire of hand gestures, movements, and manners, forever joined at the hip in a world hostile to their weirdness, is like an existential allegory. Why didn't they star—bowler hats and all—in Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot? Strongly recommended. (T. Keogh)