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The Art of Buster Keaton

The Art of Buster Keaton

Between 1914 and 1928, people laughed longer, louder, and more often than at any other time in history. The reason why is that during those fourteen extremely turbulent years in the world, a group of comic geniuses did things on the movie screen that were more elaborately conceived for comedy, more brilliantly constructed for laughs, and, simply, funnier than anything ever done—-before or since.

These extraordinary people—-among them, Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd, Laurel and Hardy, Mabel Normand, Charlie Chase, and numerous others—-had four distinct advantages over all other comedians in the annals of entertainment: They could not be heard speaking; they were in black and white; their images were magnified a hundred-fold; they had total freedom of movement. All four of these—-separately, and together even more so—-help to make things funnier: Physical comedy, as opposed to verbal, is the belly-laugh kind, and can be truly unrelenting since there’s no waiting for the next line to be heard, and laughter is infectious, building on itself. Black and white intensifies comedy because there are no distractions—-such as eye-color, color of grass and flowers, hair-color, skin-color, costume- and set-colors—-nothing takes your absolute concentration away from what’s funny. Seeing things bigger makes them clearer, and clearer is funnier. Freedom of movement means the whole world becomes your banana peel.

Buster Keaton’s priceless comedies—-the shorts and features he supervised and starred in between 1920 and 1928, the last year of silent pictures—-are my own personal favorites from this glorious era. “Keaton was beyond all praise,” Orson Welles said to me years ago, “a very great artist, and one of the most beautiful men I ever saw on the screen. He was also a superb director. In the last analysis, nobody came near him…I wish I’d known him better than I did. A tremendously nice person, you know, but also a man of secrets. I can’t even imagine what they were.”

After a score of superb two- and three-reelers (all available, along with all the features, in a splendid DVD collection called The Art of Buster Keaton), Buster’s first feature was THREE AGES (1923), an ambitious, witty, yet unpretentious trio of variations on a theme: Two guys (Keaton and Wallace Beery) after one woman through three different Ages, starting with Prehistoric Buster in the Stone Age, ending in modern times; also it is a friendly parody of D.W. Griffith’s famous four-part classic Intolerance, made only seven years earlier, though the picture works on its own terms without knowing the inside joke.

But Keaton’s first full-length story was the charming, rarely-seen masterpiece, OUR HOSPITALITY (also 1923), and it happens to have been the first Keaton film I saw after starting my movie card-file—-when I was halfway to thirteen—-and dismissed it as “pretty dated.” By the time I saw it again 17 years later, I had changed my view radically, giving it my highest rating: “A magnificent comedy set in the 1830s…one of Keaton’s most breathtaking; exhaustingly funny—-great atmosphere, sense of period, pacing, mood. A low-key masterpiece by the greatest silent director of them all.” Seen again today, this lesser-known Keaton work, shot on real locations near Lake Tahoe, Nevada, is certainly among his most lovely, and very typical of him in the mordantly witty and ironic slant of its humor. Taking the infamous, generations-old Hatfield-McCoy family feud as plot and making Buster the innocent target has an amazingly layered set of reverberations, repeatedly exposing the absurdity of blind hatred, blind vengeance. He also has a field day spoofing a primitive early train, and pulls off one of his most spectacular stunts saving the girl (first wife Natalie Talmadge) from going over the waterfall. C.B. DeMille stole the whole sequence for one of his epic dramas, Unconquered (1947), but even DeMille and Gary Cooper couldn’t touch Buster’s one-shot marvel.

In his next (very short but intense) feature, SHERLOCK JR.(1924), Buster plays a small-town movie projectionist who hopes to become a great detective, and, in one of the most amazing (and famous) sequences in silent cinema, Buster dreams himself right into the picture he’s projecting. The special effects he pulled off in that scene would be a piece of cake in today’s computer-generated funhouse movies, but Keaton’s achievement remains a delightful triumph of audacious craft. This isn’t the funniest of the ten golden features Keaton created, but it is certainly the most dazzling in its virtuosity.

From the same year, incredibly, comes one of Keaton’s most popular and enduring pictures, THE NAVIGATOR. The Great Stone Face—Buster’s moniker at the time because he never smiled (he used to say he was “too busy” to smile)—plays a pampered young millionaire who inadvertently ends up on an abandoned ship cast adrift in the ocean with a society girl (Kathryn McGuire) who just turned him down. Sequence after sequence is superbly funny and justly celebrated; my favorite is one writer-critic James Agee used to rave about: where Buster and the girl realize each of them is not alone on the ship and proceed to try to find the other. If you’re unfortunate to only have time for one or two Keatons, this one is essential.

From 1925 comes SEVEN CHANCES in which Keaton plays a guy set to inherit a fortune if he marries by a certain date; it features one of the great silent comedy chases: a thousand brides, literally, after one hapless Buster. The funniest section—when first stones, then rocks, then boulders roll down after him—came about as a result of the first preview audience’s unexpected laugh at some pebbles he dislodged while running down a hill: Keaton, the consummate comedy professional, was now compelled to “top” this and did with a vengeance: It’s just achingly funny.

Also released in 1925 was probably Buster’s most gentle, tender-hearted work, and definitely his least known, GO WEST. What I wrote for my movie card-file in 1969, when I first saw it, still holds true: “Not as hilarious as most Keatons, but nonetheless beautifully directed comedy about Buster’s love for a brown-eyed cow on a Western ranch. Lots of marvelous gags and moments, with a typically energetic chase at the end—-the herd follows him through town to the stockyards—-but it doesn’t have the overall impact of things like Seven Chances or College, and is certainly not on a level with the masterpieces.”

The next year came BATTLING BUTLER, which was one of Keaton’s biggest hits in his day but, ironically, has virtually no reputation now, except perhaps as a little-seen minor Keaton. Although it has a not particularly memorable setup (millionaire playboy Buster pretends to be a prizefight champion to impress Sally O’Neil), the film’s payoff—Buster in an extended David-and-Goliath boxing match—is utterly hilarious, and reveals where Chaplin got the idea and some of the jokes for Charlie’s more famous, but considerably less funny, boxing match five years later in City Lights.

Most film experts cite 1927’s THE GENERAL as Keaton’s absolute masterpiece, with Buster as a Southern railroad engineer who tries to enlist in the Confederate Army to impress his girl (Marion Mack), gets turned down, then becomes a hero by saving his train from the Union Army. Not a popular success in its day, it is his one certified classic and, because of the obviously serious Civil War background, must be considered the forerunner of black comedy. Another quintessential Keaton, though by no means the funniest.

Far more popular in that same year was Keaton’s foray into sports in COLLEGE, one of the most lightweight of his comedies, but for sheer into-the-aisle laughs, one of his best. What that other major comic contemporary, Harold Lloyd, had done for football a couple of years before in The Freshman, Keaton does for every other conceivable college sport, and Buster’s extraordinary athleticism is flamboyantly, uproariously displayed.

Finally, from the great last full year of non-talking pictures, there’s 1928’s STEAMBOAT BILL JR., in which Buster is a pampered mama’s boy who comes down South to meet and impress his macho riverboat-captain father (Ernest Torrence). I saw this a decade ago on the big screen at the Telluride Film Festival with 750 men, women and children, and can’t recall hearing that much laughter in years: It was the hit of the festival, this (then) 70-year-old comedy, and had to be rerun twice to accommodate demand. Steamboat is probably also Keaton’s most consistently funny picture, with a spectacular hurricane-twister sequence that is as breathtakingly hilarious as it is awesome in technical brilliance. Remember, Keaton did all his own stunts, and in Steamboat there is a virtual symphony of unbelievable falls. Buster didn’t smile, yes, but the variety of subtle expressions in all his work is as memorably cinematic as his lithe and vividly expressive body.

One maxim of Keaton’s—“You must always see a comedian’s feet”—is exemplified in these works of Keaton’s mature flowering, and he was, after all, not only the purist, most unique of American comic artists—as American as Mark Twain—he was also the finest director of comedy in world cinema. Long live Buster!

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Just saw “The Cameraman” and “Spite Marriage”. I’d always avoided these two as they weren’t from Buster’s more celebrated independent period. My mistake. The Cameraman ranks right up there with Buster’s best films. It is incredibly charming, note-perfect sweet, very funny, yet still “Buster Smart”. It also makes very good use of the leading lady, who feels like a real part of the plot in this picture rather than just a simple device or window dressing. A simply wonderful movie. Spite Marriage was a step down, to be sure, though still quite worthwhile with some great Keaton sequences. Though you can definitely feel the beginning of the end here as they start to transition Buster away from his iconic screen character and turn him into “Elmer”, a character that became more and more of a typical odd bafoon with each passing film.


Buster Keaton’s excellent actor. He compelled people to laugh then, compels and now. Knowingly after so much years it is talked not about hundreds and about units of actors. Their talent is undeniable truth which with every year only confirmed the next time.

Bob MacLean (

The opening gag in STEAMBOAT BILL JR., when Buster’s father is at the station to meet him and there’s no Buster, until the train pulls out and he’s across the tracks in his raccoon coat, was re-done by Fellini in 8 1/2, when Guido goes to the station to meet his mistress, and then again by Leone at the opening of ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST, when Jack Elam and Woody Strode are waiting for “Harmonica” (Charles Bronson), and as the train pulls out they’re leaving they hear the harmonica, and there is their death.

your mom

ohhhhh yaaaa


Our Hospitality is always my top fave Keaton feature with The Navigator sometimes knocking it off its top spot…..I watched Battling Butler not too long ago and really enjoyed the first half with sissy millionare Buster ruffing it in the wilds and going up against country gal Sally O’Neil ..When it moved into the boxing story ,it became more routine I thought….I just watched City Lights again btw for about the millionth time,and still die laughing over the 2 fighter-referee dance routine.


whats up doing an assignment on this guy for homework pretty cool.

Carol Cling

Thanks for your appreciation of the magical, marvelous Buster. (I feel certain this least pretentious of geniuses wouldn’t mind the familiar form of address.) I remember seeing a wonderful double bill at the L.A. County Museum of Art in the late ’70s: “Safety Last” and “The General.” The two friends who came with me had never seen either and couldn’t imagine anything being better than “Safety Last” … but I kept assuring them that, wonderful as “Safety Last” was (and is), “The General” was on an whole other level, maybe a whole other planet. Once they saw it for themselves, they understood …


And don’t ignore THE CAMERAMAN, Buster’s first film @ M-G-M.

Just as the Marx Bros managed A NIGHT AT THE OPERA under the constraints of a more traditional studio-system structure, Buster is still very much himself in THE CAMERAMAN.

It’s not so much more sentimental than his independently produced works, as it is more emotional. And honestly so.

The one-shot changing room sequence (with Edward Brophy) at the public pool alone makes the film indispensible.

Jesse Levy

Certainly our taste in what we consider funny has changed over the years (not for the better some might argue), but Keaton remains a true master of the subtle and not-so-subtle gag. Interestingly, the Great Stone Face wrote gags for many of the Red Skelton pictures, one of the most shameless muggers we’ve ever had on screen. But still funny.

Blake Lucas

I responded a lot to what you said about Keaton too. He is definitely my favorite of all the great comedians and the greatest director too. First seeing all these films together along with most of the shorts back in 1971 (had only seen a few of his films then) was one of the happiest experiences of my moviegoing life.

I have little argument about what you said about any of these classics, and of course everyone has their favorites and THE GENERAL is probably his most awesome masterpiece overall. But I’ll say my only negative on these ten features is the last reel of THE NAVIGATOR with the cannibals–for me, it kind of loses its inspiration there after being great most of the way through so contrary to most people, I maybe like it least. And on the other hand, I think the brilliant BATTLING BUTLER is criminally underrated. I don’t agree about the climax–although most of the film is hilarious, the final fight is unexpectedly dramatic and Keaton makes this work beautifully. I guess my favorites along with THE GENERAL and BATTLING BUTLER would be OUR HOSPITALITY, SEVEN CHANCES and STEAMBOAT BILL JR.


Oh, Mike, I’m only talking about the pictures Buster created, not the
ones he acted in. “The Saphead” isn’t real good either, but thanks for
the thought.

mike schlesinger

Hi, Peter, a tiny note of correction. THREE AGES was Buster’s first feature as (co-)director, but THE SAPHEAD (1920) was his first as solely an actor.

Steve Carey

Buster’s work will live forever. I envy anyone yet to make his acquaintance! There is a depth and poignancy to his characters that I don’t see in other silent greats.


I can sympathize with your initial response to Buster, . The first time I saw a Keaton film _ The General – I didn’t think it was funny at all. I had the same reaction the first time I saw Tati. Of course, I later learned that I was completely off base. They’re both filmmakers who require patience and consideration.

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