The Great Stone Face—-Wasn’t

On All Hallow’s Eve, we quite naturally watched Buster Keaton’s 1921 two-reeler, The Haunted House.

And of course, there on camera, displayed in all his glory, was The Great Stone Face, as Keaton is known far and wide.

Yet I beg to differ. Oh, sure. In most of his film appearances, Buster didn’t smile. But he did a lot of other things with his face that were a beacon for his state of mind, whether frustration, yearning, fear, relief… you name it.

‘Hey,’ you might be thinking. ‘I’ve seen him smile all over the place! And it’s disturbing!’ And you’d be right.

Just about every 1917 Comique film Keaton did with Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle is a virtual smile-fest: from The Butcher Boy, Keaton’s screen debut, through Oh Doctor! (a personal fave), The Cook (ditto!), His Wedding Night, and Coney Island.

However, in these two-reelers, Buster’s not playing his own creation, his “little fellow… an honest working man,” but rather a character in someone else’s film.

In The Haunted House (produced by Joseph M. Schenk and distributed by Metro Pictures), Buster plays a somewhat inept bank teller. Big Joe Roberts is The ‘Stache-Twistin’ Villain and Virginia Fox, The Honest Bank President’s Daughter (for whom Buster quite naturally falls).

Somewhere along the way, the villains capture the banker’s daughter and drag her off to the titular Haunted House… which really isn’t, though nobody knows this but the villains, who ‘haunt’ it on purpose so they can get away with appropriating the bank’s money.

As in any Keaton two-reeler, the simplest situations work themselves into long chains of absurdities and laughs in which Buster clearly displays puzzlement, concern, frustration, and terror.

‘But how? Since his face is made of Stone?,’ you might be thinking. He doesn’t smile in his own films, true. But those enormous, liquid eyes, expressive brows, the set of his jaw, and his sheer physical genius work overtime.

A comely bank customer urges Buster to break the rules and allow her an early withdrawal. Watch him nearly swoon when her coy pleading brings her within an inch or two of his face.

In a scene reminiscent of The Butcher Boy, a pot of envelope glue gets loose and just about gets the better of him (and everyone else in the bank, including some holdup men), though he conquers the sticky situation at last with hot water and a hammer.

But wait! There’s more. The bad guys have set Buster up as Suspect Number One, and he flees, only to end up in that ‘haunted’ house, where skeletons, ghosts, headless men, revolving floors and sliding staircases keep him alternately somersaulting in fright and slumping in relief.

A bonus to the bad guys is that a troupe of actors, who have been presenting their version of Faust, are jeered offstage. They high-tail it from the theater, still in costume, and also take refuge in the Haunted House.

And when Buster runs, whether it’s from gunmen, ghosts or devils, every muscle in his body telegraphs terror, and those expressive brows and compressed lips help tell the tale.

Eventually Buster falls through the floor of the Haunted House and perishes. He finds himself ascending that Stairway To Heaven, only to be rejected at the Pearly Gates. A sliding staircase rockets him down to That Other Place (set design extensively borrowed for an episode of Futurama, when goofy protagonist Fry visits Lucifer’s living room to beg for a favor.)

Relax, Buster. It’s only a dream. He awakens from the nightmare, catches the villains, and wins the girl.

That face of Buster’s is one of cinema’s Most Recognized: stoic, strong and noble, with a profile for the ages.

But hardly made of stone.

As always, many thanks to Lea S. for hosting this Busterthon!

https://silentology.wordpress.com

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What! No Fun?

Finally, I have seen ALL of 1933’s What!  No Beer? starring Jimmy Durante and a sadly demolished Buster Keaton.

How did this gobbler ever look good on paper?  We had to choke it down in five-minute segments.  

Where to begin?  There’s a lot of shouting and stumbling, none of which is in the least bit funny, apart from one or two of Durante’s throwaway lines.  

It’s filled with idiotic, contrived, completely avoidable situations, the moronic end brings new meaning to the word ‘cringe,’ and yet, it reportedly made money.

The frenetic material makes The Three Stooges seem quietly dignified; the story makes Plan Nine From Outer Space look like Citizen Kane.

What’s it about?  Prohibition’s about to be repealed, and Buster, a taxidermist, teams up with his friend,  Durante, to brew beer and become wealthy.

What could possibly go wrong?  Yes, thanks for reminding me.

Buster and Jimmy (that’s his name in the film, as though too dispirited to remember a different one) run into gangsters, are arrested by police, and wade through gallons of foam, a gag appropriated from Buster’s much funnier short, My Wife’s Relations (1922).  In fact all the gags were appropriated from Buster’s REAL movies, like Seven Chances (1925), only there, they got laughs.

There are one or two meager good points.  Ya gotta love blowhard Spike Moran, played by Buster’s old pal Ed Brophy.  But most of the cast is as wooden as the barrels the beer’s been canned in.

Somewhere in among all this mess, Buster spots a girl and falls for her.  He can still sell his patented yearning look.

Durante works himself into a frenzy, struggling to save this bolus of a feature, but it’s hopeless.  There are jagged, jumpy, mis-matched cuts everywhere, and it’s filmed like a static stage play, even while churning around so much, it throws off buckets of flop sweat.

Former dancer Phyllis Barry (who actually did appear with The Three Stooges) plays an unworthy object of Buster’s yearnings: a duplicitous, venal gangster’s moll and bimbo de luxe who turns on a dime for no discernible reason.  (Except, of course, that it’s BUSTER.  Ya know?)

Worst of all, however, is seeing the master who created such brilliant movies as The General (1926) and my beloved Steamboat Bill Jr. (1928) reduced not only to wallowing in this bilge, but in such a state of inebriation that he either forgets lines, or slurs them when he does remember.

I’d drink too, if I was in this turkey.

Watch if you must, but be well forewarned.

Busterverse:

https://busterverse.tumblr.com/

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Dances With Cooks: Busterthon

I could babble on about how much I love Buster Keaton in Comique’s The Cook … so I will.

This 1918 two- reeler, distributed by Paramount, was shot at Long Beach, California. In addition to Buster, it contains Roscoe ‘Fatty’ Arbuckle, Al St. John, Alice Lake, and Luke the Wonder Dog. Their setting is The Bull Pup Cafe, a neat little affair with a full band and a dancer. Maybe Luke is the owner.

The Cook was Buster’s last film before deploying to France in World War 1. Yay, Buster. It was considered a lost film until it showed up in Norway. Yay, Norway.

Buster is not The Cook. That honor goes to Roscoe Arbuckle. Buster is a waiter. And what a waiter. Let me count the ways:

*That Face. Every frame is filled with Buster’s patented brand of intensity that leaps off the screen.

*There’s Buster’s genial suavity in trying to make time with every girl he sees—-even when a clearly insane patroness gives him the cold shoulder, he looks more elegant in baggy pants than an ordinary Joe in a tux.

*The way Buster eats spaghetti: daintily, from a teacup…. then watches others try to eat it through a funnel, with scissors, knitting with it, finally using it as a clothesline for tug of war. The Cook scores high for this prolonged, inventive bit if nothing else.

*Buster’s acrobatics, including a 360° on his head. Nobody did it better.

*We cannot ignore Roscoe Arbuckle as The Cook, debonaire while flinging butcher knives, conniving milk, soup, gravy, and pancakes all from the same enormous urn, then using kitchen gear as costumery for his famous snake dance.

*Nor can we overlook Luke The Wonder Dog, outfoxing baddie Al St. John at every turn, even climbing up ladders and rollercoasters to get his man. And let us not forget the cart-drawn wonders of Goatland!

*Buster valiantly struggling to suppress a laugh when villainous Al smashes a breakaway bottle over his head.

*The dancing. Music makes him! Hearing the band, Buster dances in the kitchen, then right out into the dining room, where the harem-getup dancing girl almost clocks him with a flying leg. Buster doesn’t miss a beat, just smooths down his hair and out-dances the pro.

That’s The Cook. You wouldn’t want to eat there, but you’ll gladly return to watch them dazzle while they work.

Many thanks to Lea S. for hosting this Busterthon.

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The Scarecrow: Proof



The Scarecrow, Metro, 1920, is probably my favorite Buster Keaton two-reeler.


Written and directed by Buster Keaton and Edward F. Cline, with cinematography by the great Elgin Lessley, The Scarecrow stars Buster Keaton, Big Joe Roberts, Sybil Seely, Joe Keaton and Luke The Wonder Dog. The plot may be simple (rivals-for-same-girl), but The Scarecrow has gags and chases galore. Better yet—-


It has PROOF.


Proof that Buster was, is, and evermore shall be completely awesome. I present my case in part:


Farmhands Buster and Big Joe share a one-room shack that’s filled with gadgets: a record player turns into a stove/oven, complete with retrievable coin to power it; a tabletop wagon becomes a biscuit dispenser; sofas turn into sinks, and so on.


Both boys are after lively Sybil Seely, the farmer’s daughter. She dances for Big Joe, and seeing this, Buster crawls off in despair, only to encounter what he thinks is a mad dog, who’s really foaming at the mouth because he ate a cream pie.


This turns into a fast and furious chase around a picturesque shell of a brick building. After falling into a hay cannon, Buster spends a lot of time in his skivvies, until he spots a scarecrow and quickly dons its suit.

Now the farmer and the rival are chasing Buster, too. Eventually Buster and Sybil elope.


Big Joe Roberts shows a sly duality as Buster’s rival, scrambling for the attentions of Sybil, then collecting splints, crutches, arnica and bandages for treating his pal/rival in case the ‘rabid’ Luke catches up with our hero… but needing them himself after being hit by a truck.


Joe Keaton (as the farmer) gives Buster vigorous chase over hill and dale. And Luke almost steals the show, relentless to catch Buster, leaping gaps in a derelict wall, climbing ladders.


Each scene fits neatly into the next, like the parts of the house fit into one another. Here is Buster at his most inventive… and this is a man known for his inventions, such as the condiment-dispensing train featured at his barbecues, foreshadowed by The Scarecrow Biscuit Wagon.


There is bucolic splendor everywhere: the farm, the animals, the pond, even the sleepy back roads. It reminds me of happy, unhurried childhood days.


Am I nuts, wanting to live in Buster’s one-room Garden of Gadgets?


Well, let’s recap Buster’s feats:


Pulls his own tooth with a string, proving he’s Tough.

Condiments swing from the ceiling like Tarzan, proving he’s Inventive.

Runs from a mad dog, proving he’s Fast.

Gets shot out of a hay cannon and his clothes, proving he’s Built.

Makes friends with the dog, proving he’s Lovable.

Crawls into a Scarecrow suit, proving he’s Resourceful.

Walks on his hands across a pond, proving he’s Agile.

Takes countless pratfalls, proving he’s Durable.

Gets himself married and baptized at the same time, proving he’s Thrifty.


Yup. I’ll take it.


My thanks to Lea S. of the great blog Silent-ology: https://silentology.wordpress.com for hosting this Busterthon/Blogathon.

Thanks!
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Meet Me Tonight In Dreamland

Dreamland.

There was a song by that name, which may (or may not!) be about the actual Coney Island attraction.

But silent films are the realm of dreams: travels through time and space , floating across your eyes. Imagined voices, always in your heart.

Which brings us to the two-reeler Coney Island, 1917, Comique. Starring Roscoe ‘Fatty’ Arbuckle, Al St. John, Alice Mann, and—-Buster.

(Because we all know Joseph Frank Keaton by his famed nickname.)

My foray into Busterology began when I took a series of film classes, way back in The Beforetimes, which led me to buy an eight-millimeter copy of The General, 1926, from Blackhawk Films.

A few second-hand Busterbooks followed, notably Buster Keaton by David Robinson, and Buster Keaton by J. P. Lebel, both now out of print. I painted a couple of Busterpics from his feature Go West (1925).

After that, other concerns took me elsewhere.

Then came a series of fortunate events, including the innerwebz, where there were Busterfilms you could view on that tubey thing, or even purchase on Amazon! Which I did, in short order.

Right around this time, Tumblr, being right up my short-attention-span alley, came nudging me in a Buster kind of way. The rest is history. Sort of.

As for Buster’s two-reelers…. I had never seen any before, and nothing else even came close. They were dazzling.

Buster’s Comique days with Roscoe Arbuckle and Luke the Wonder Dog were a second revelation. Slapstick, I told myself, was too lowbrow, not at all my kind of humor.

Never had I been so mistaken. Never had I laughed so hard.

Of the many Buster/Roscoe Comique films, Coney Island is a favorite for its special significance; I was at Coney Island a few times (just not, y’know, when Comique was filming.)

Coney Island may or may not have been named for the rabbits (coneys) inhabiting the locale. And by the time Coney Island was filmed there, it was a major attraction. You have priceless beauty shots of a Mardi Gras parade, and Luna Park at night.

https://carouselhistory.com/coney-islands-dreamland-park-history/

Buster is at his most bombastic, laughing, bawling, backflipping, stunting for a couple of players.

But let’s not give short shrift to Roscoe, Alice, and Al. Roscoe’s interplay with all-out daredevil Al St. John always cracks me up, and Adorable Alice Mann matches their mugging face for face. Just behold her in the infamous Witching Waves seasick scene, where she accurately emulates a cat trying to eject a hairball.

As for Roscoe, he is always bombastic. He cannot be anything else, unless you include cheerful, engaging, and fourth wall-busting, which he does here in coy good humor, winking at us as he urges the camera upward in the changing room scene. And he drop-kicks like Captain Kirk.

The plot is simple enough: an animated, enthusiastic (but broke) Buster takes Alice to Coney Island, but she soon ditches him for Al St. John and his wad of dough, then ditches Al in turn for Roscoe.

As for Roscoe, he’s been dragged to the beach by his nagging wife (Agnes Neilson), and he’s looking for a bit of fun, which soon materializes in the lissome form of Alice. Already soaked from a boat ride gone bad, she wants to go swimming, so Roscoe steals a fat lady’s swimming outfit and dons a wig. Buster snags a life guard job, and while Al and Roscoe ‘flirt,’ Buster reveals to Mrs. Roscoe, who is sitting on the bench next to the pair, that, ‘He ain’t no lady. She’s a man.’

Mayhem ensues, with beach battles, mistaken identities, and police action galore (one of whom is Buster in a push-broom mustache).

Luke the Wonder Dog gets a cameo, and I suspect so does Buster, possibly as a gate cop who’s swatted down by the formidable Mrs. Roscoe.

But Buster gets the girl in the end, while Roscoe and Al declare their eternal brotherhood, and swear off girls—-until the next beauty ankles by.

It’s a comedy. A travelogue. A silent, magical world where you laugh with delight, and all ends well. That is the power of Dreamland.

Many thanks to Crystal of In The Good Old Days of Classic Hollywood https://crystalkalyana.wordpress.com

for hosting this Silent Films blogathon,

and Lea S. of Silent-ology https://silentology.wordpress.com/2021/07/29/announcement-the-silent-movie-day-blogathon/?replytocom=21562#respond for bringing it to my attention.

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Steamboat Bill Jr: The Prestige


Decked out in his finest!

With the face of an angel, the form of an acrobat, and the soul of a storyteller, Joseph Frank ‘Buster’ Keaton has left an indelible impression on the hearts of film buffs the world over.

But there’s more. As in: The Pledge. The Turn. The Prestige.

Magician Ricky Jay explains the above terms: “You’ve got to take the observer from the ordinary, to the extraordinary, to the astounding.”

And in Buster’s 1928 feature, Steamboat Bill Jr., here, he does just that, taking us on a magic ride, with himself as the magician. And Buster

Steamboat Bill Jr. is possibly my favorite Buster Keaton film, and in it, he is both at his most bumbling and most heroic.

Buster plays William Canfield Junior, with towering Ernest Torrence as his father, Steamboat Bill. Tom McGuire is J. J. King, Steamboat Bill’s not-so-friendly rival, and Marion ‘Peanuts’ Byron is King’s daughter. Steamboat Bill’s craft is named the Stonewall Jackson and has seen better days; King’s shiny sleek boat is named after him.

During the course of the film the kids fall for one another in Romeo and Juliet fashion, Bill Senior lands in jail, a cyclone lands, and Buster lands in the hospital.

This is how it plays out:

The Pledge: The magician shows something ordinary, like a dove. Junior is introduced as a college man in his ordinary, if booby-trapped, world. And he is not what Dad (who hasn’t seen Junior since he was a baby) expected to see, decked out in his beret, silly mustache, and ukulele. Yet, when a magician takes out his dove, the expectation of wonders are already present.

The Turn: The magician takes his ordinary dove, and makes it disappear. Here, Junior’s ordinary world of college life has vanished. In just one of many amusing sequences, Dad, hoping to make a tough boatmaster of him, tries to replace Junior’s effete beret. Maybe clothes really do make the man, because next, Kitty King decks Junior out in a snappy uniform, which, dashing though it may seem to us, makes him the object of derision. When Dad literally tries showing Junior the ropes (the way to operate the steamboat), Junior makes an utter mess of it, becoming entangled in every line, tripping the wrong levers, getting conked on the head…

…and then comes the cyclone.

The Prestige: The magician tops his dove’s disappearance, making it re-appear. But here, the dove needs quite a bit of coaxing. King, annoyed beyond human endurance by Junior’s cascade of faux pas, retaliates, condemning Dad’s steamboat and cutting off his livelihood. This leads to a mutual fist fight, which lands Dad in jail. In a hilarious, protracted bit of business, Junior tries to break Dad out of jail, delivering a loaf of bread with what seems to be an entire toolbox baked right in.

Junior succeeds in the jailbreak, but the river’s risin’ and the ground has turned to liquid. Through a series of mishaps, Dad gets tossed back into the pokey, and Junior ends up in the hospital, only becoming aware of the danger posed by the cyclone when the entire hospital is carried off by the wind.

Running disoriented through town, the cyclone giving him all it’s got, Junior passes through a theater, where all the backstage magic seems out to get him. Once he makes it outside, he takes a moment to rest and recover. But this brief respite culminates in Buster Keaton’s most famously hair-raising stunt—-a 4000-pound building facade comes crashing down on him, with an open window offering only a two-inch clearance.

Then, Junior sees Dad in trouble, as the jail itself tips into the river and is swept away in the ravening currents. Junior springs into action, leaping tall steamboats in a series of bounds, utterly mastering every element of its operation with lightning speed and ingenuity.

Junior saves not only Bill Senior, but Kitty, her father J. J. King, and even a clergyman floundering in the swollen river—so he can marry Kitty on the spot.

There it is: Buster the Magician, in a breathtaking turnaround, bends reality to his will, rescues EVERYONE—-and makes us laugh in the process.

The Prestige.

(Many thanks to Lea of https://silentology.wordpress.com/2021/03/22/the-seventh-annual-buster-keaton-blogathon/ for hosting this ‘Busterthon!)

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Busterbooks

 Two out-of-print masterpieces, well worth the search.  The Lebel book (which looks yellow here, but the cover’s actually sage green, a nice touch considering the image with Brown Eyes  from 1925′s Go West) is like reading a love letter, even if you have to come up for air at times…  and even if Buster himself might have chuckled and shaken his head at the references to Dadaism. 

 A few paragraphs from the Lebel book:

‘Of all the great cinema comics, Keaton alone comes off to advantage when clad only in shorts….

Keaton alone wears his nudity with elegance and grace….the vibrations and modulations of Keaton’s form remain constant and constantly pleasing…Clothed, the harmony of his appearance is the harmony of his muscular poise and his body’s spare grace.’

(From my Busterblog) (Where, yes, I really am that shallow. Sometimes. )

http://busterverse.tumblr.com/

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(From one of my favorite blogs, about one of my favorite silent comedians):The Lively Al St. John: An Appreciation — Silent-ology

Have you ever had an actor who grew on you? Someone you really didn’t care for at first, but who finally won you over? For me, it was a comedian you may or may not have heard of: Al St. John, nephew of Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle and a key player at the legendary Keystone Film […]

The Lively Al St. John: An Appreciation — Silent-ology
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Full Frontal Genius

Buster Keaton has been quoted as saying, ‘You can’t be a genius in slap shoes.’ I disagree. You can be a genius in far worse.

I am a Keaton fan from so far back I own an 8mm copy of The General. This is my very brief take on the Free and Easy number in… Free and Easy (the 1930 MGM musical starring Buster Keaton and Anita Page). The number is both cute and endearing in one sense, quite horrible in another. And it’s grown on me, to the extent that I keep watching it.

I have not yet seen the film in its entirety, but eventually I must, if only to answer the Eternal Fan Question: did MGM harbor a seething hatred for all humanity, or merely for Buster Keaton?

*And it will be worthwhile to view, with an eye toward comparison to other musicals of that general era, such as the Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers extravaganzas.*

However, I’m afraid that if I do see the whole movie, I will either plunge into such a deep depression that watching the Pawnbroker will seem like a comedy. Or worse, I will end up LIKING it. Then I’d be cast into fandom’s Outer Darkness.

And I do like the number. That’s why I watch it over and over. Because the man does full frontal splits! Which hurts just to watch.

And he sings live on-camera, which is how they did it back then.

And, most importantly—-hamper Keaton though they may with a dopey character, humiliate him, cram him into a hideous costume, trap him on a stage festooned with visual clutter, surround him with chunky chorines (one of whom ‘dances’ by lifting her leg again and again, the way a dog addresses a fire hydrant, though luckily for Keaton, he has fallen into a box before it occurs.)

Do all this to him, and Buster Keaton can still out-sing, out-dance, and out-perform them all.

Full frontal genius.

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Squirrels!

“If Roscoe (’Fatty’) Arbuckle aimed his two-reelers at 12-year-olds, then MGM aimed their Buster Keaton talkies at squirrels.”

—-Professor Bunky

MGM Test Audience

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