Silent Reels, by Rodney Schroeter
     Column #1:  Buster Keaton

     When it comes to movies stars, I have a number of favorites,
whom I regard on the same high level, for different reasons.  But
I have to start somewhere with a column on silent movies, so I'll
start with Buster Keaton--partly because of his historic
contribution to film, mainly because of my own personal
admiration for his work.
     And if I start with Keaton's work, I would most logically,
unquestionably, unreservedly start with "The General" (1927).
     Anything I write about this film will be old news to a
person even casually familiar with silent movies.  Truth or value
is not determined by the number of people holding a view, but
that view can be worth considering--at least, to ask oneself WHY
so many people hold it.  So, for what it's worth:  world-wide,
"The General" has a reputation as being one of the greatest films
of all time.
     Keaton was at the height of his popularity at the time he
made "The General," and had a free hand and large budget in its
production.  It is a chase film with trains, a Civil War story
told from a Southern perspective.  Johnnie Gray (Keaton) is the
engineer of his train, The General.  When he tries to enlist,
he's told he can't--though the fact that he's considered too
valuable as an engineer is never explained to him.  So, he holds
a misunderstanding of his own worth; his ladyfriend (Marion Mack)
and her family hold him in contempt because they don't think he
even tried to enlist.
     Northern spies hatch a plot, the start of which is to steal
The General.  Buster chases after them, using a handcart, a
bicycle, and finally another train.  In the process of recovering
his train, he also rescues his sweetheart, who was aboard The
General when it was hijacked.
     The film's plot was based on an actual event.  I thought I'd
read that the original Civil War train was in a museum in
Atlanta, but a travel brochure, describing points of interest in
that city, says that Stone Mountain Memorial Park features a
_reproduction_ of The General which, the brochure says (ready for
some painful irony?) was made famous by the film, "The Great
Locomotive Chase."
     If you've never experienced Keaton, this is a good place to
start.  I bought an extra copy especially for lending, and have
urged it on several highly skeptical co-workers, who came back on
Monday to happily tell me what great fun it was (some of them
going on to say, "I never knew they made such good stuff back
then!" and I, smiling slyly, nodding in agreement).
     And I'm willing to bet you that, when you see it for the
first time, you'll be tempted to call the rest of your family
away from the screechings and insults of their latest favorite
sit-com, eagerly telling them, as you rewind the tape by a
minute, "Hey!  Watch this!"  (An entire book could be written on
the benefits and hazards of yielding to this temptation.)
     I have seen four different commercial releases of "The
General," so it is not difficult to find.  I've even seen it in a
video rental store (believe it or not!).  I am a happy owner of a
laser disk edition from Image Entertainment, which features an
appropriately heroic soundtrack by Carl Davis.
     "Heroic?"  Buster Keaton?  Yes, I think that word applies. 
One theme that recurs through his best works is the
transformation of the helpless sap (or, as in the case of "The
General," a good person who is mistakenly viewed as a coward)
into a hero.
     Consider "Steamboat Bill, Jr." (1928).  Bill (Ernest
Torrence) anticipates the arrival of his son (Keaton) from back
east.  He's dismayed to find that Jr., whom he hasn't seen since
infancy, is what he considers a sissified wimp.  Keaton's
character is not necessarily an actual dolt; whatever he's been
studying in college, he might actually be very good at it--we
never find out.  But in the eyes of his father, because he is
inexperienced and therefore comically clumsy aboard ship, he's a
twerp.
     (Torrence's acting is superb.  Throughout the film, he
performs motions of utter disgust over his son's lack of
seaworthiness.  Yet, he sticks up for Jr. when the occasion
arises.  The most moving of such scenes for me, was when Jr.
helps Dad escape from jail.  Torrence runs out to the bushes.  On
looking back, he sees Jr. caught by the sheriff and clubbed
unconscious.  In a cold, horrifyingly quiet rage, Torrence stalks
back to the jail, ignoring the shotguns frantically trained on
him, and punches the sheriff's lights out.  He then calmly walks
back into the jail and into his cell.  A scene like this goes
beyond merely "excellent."
     (I'd like to find more of Torrence's films.  Now that I'm
familiar with his name, I'm spotting it more often.  I know of
"Captain Salvation" (1925); the 1923 "Hunchback of Notre Dame,"
where he played Clopin; DeMille's 1927 "King of Kings," where he
portrayed Peter; "The Covered Wagon" (1923); "Tol'able David"
(1921).  Motion Picture Magazine for February of 1926 featured a
nice photo of Torrence with his son, with this caption:  "Ernest
Torrence and his son, Ian.  Off the screen, these villains are
devoted husbands and proud fathers.  Young Ian is handsome enough
to play heroes with his evil papa.")
     At first considering himself a failure at riverboat life,
Keaton is about to head back east.  But, on seeing his father
jailed, he resolutely takes the train ticket from his pocket and
tears it up.  The transformation of his character has begun.  Not
through some magical power, endowed upon him with no need for
effort.  Rather, he has made a _choice_.  The change in his inner
character is reflected by his actions:  By the end of the movie,
in contrast to his initial awkwardness, he is acrobatically
leaping from level to level of the ship, cleverly rigging the
controls with a series of ropes, so he can operate the ship
single-handedly and perform a series of rescues (the kind that
have me clenching my fist, gritting my teeth, and shouting,
"Yeah!").
     "Steamboat" contains one of his most famous scenes.  Amidst
the destruction inflicted upon the town by a tornado, Keaton
stands dazedly in front of a wall that tips and falls where he
stands.  Exactly in the right place is a window--which passes
over him!  It was a stunt which used a real wall, and required
exact planning to avoid Buster being crushed to death.  Director
Charles Riesner could not bring himself to watch the scene as it
was filmed.  When he heard the crash of the falling wall, he
asked if Keaton were all right.
     But back to the theme of heroism.  You'll see it in many of
his best works:  "Our Hospitality" (1923); "The Navigator"
(1924), one of Keaton's personal favorites; "Go West" (1925) (in
which Keaton accuses a cowboy of cheating at cards; the cowboy
draws a gun and says, "Smile when you say that!"; and Buster, in
a very awkward spot indeed--his nickname was "The Great
Stoneface," you know--gives his version of Lillian Gish's "forced
smile" from "Broken Blossoms" (1919)); "Battling Butler" (1926),
one of his biggest money-makers; "College" (1927); and "Spite
Marriage" (1929), his last silent feature.
     Until recently (and I'll elaborate on those two words in a
moment), very few of the above were easily available on video. 
(If I had a load of extra dough, I'd publish some of Buster's
major masterpieces, and some of his hard to find short gems, as a
disk package, and hire Tangerine Dream to do the soundtracks. 
That would be a true humanitarian act.)  "College" and "Spite
Marriage" are commercially available, but for the others, you'll
have to scan the catalogs of various dealers.  Video Yesteryear
and Foothill Video both carry a healthy supply of Keaton
material.  In fact, Foothill is the only source I've ever seen
for Keaton's first film, "The Butcher Boy" (1917), which he made
with Roscoe Arbuckle.  (But beware--the titles are in some
Scandinavian language!)  Addresses:  Video Yesteryear  /  Box C 
/  Sandy Hook CT 06482.  Foothill Video  /  PO Box 547  / 
Tujunga CA 91043.
     Only recently did I find very good copies of "Sherlock Jr."
(1924) and "Our Hospitality" (1923).  The first I purchased from
Moonlight Cinema (e-mail:  TrollVideo@aol.com); the second, from
Super Sleuths  /  3353 South Main Street #545  /  Salt Lake City,
UT 84115.  Super Sleuths astounded me by responding, to my query,
that they had a copy of Keaton's first feature film, "The
Saphead" (1920)!!  But they hastened to explain that it was not a
first-generation copy; that, while watchable, the quality was
such that they would "probably never release it to our
customers."  Well, they were nice enough to sell me a copy at a
price lower than their typical video.  And yes, it's not the
greatest quality, but if they consider this too poor to put on
their list, I stand in awe of their standards.  (Who says art and
commerce don't mix?)  It's a great story, and the circumstances
leading up to Keaton's appearance in the film make up an
interesting story itself--remind me sometime to write about it.
     "The Cameraman" (1928) is available from MGM, and it's quite
excellent, but existing prints are missing some footage from the
original.  Jim Kline (see my note on his book later) writes, "MGM
was so impressed with the film that for years it was required
viewing for all new studio comics.  'The Cameraman' was screened
so many times that it became damaged and lost two key sequences,
one of Buster filming a hotel doorman whom he mistakes for a navy
admiral, the other of his covering a ship launching ceremony and
ending up sliding into the ocean along with the vessel."  Just
imagine someone digging up that footage.  Whew!  The mind reels.
     MGM has released several of Keaton's early talkies:  "Free
and Easy" (1930) (which contains the enjoyable "Woe is me, the
Quoon has Sweened" routine, as well as cameos by some of MGM's
top actors and directors), "Doughboys" (1930) (with a great scene
of a sergeant ferociously describing in detail how to charge the
enemy with a bayonet, and what the results will be, causing the
green soldiers to swoon), "Sidewalks of New York" (1931), "Speak
Easily" (1932), and "What! No Beer?" (1933).  These features
don't hold a candle to his silent masterpieces, and I'm saddened
when I realize that this period was marred by Keaton's problems
with alcohol (which he overcame later in life), and his loss of
artistic control.  And yet, I'm surprised by how re-watchable
"Free and Easy," "Doughboys," and "Speak Easily" are.  Especially
this last.  As my wife will attest, I get a big kick out of the
stage producer teetering on the brink of insanity and shouting
plaintively, "It's a madhouse!  It's a madhouse!"
     One of the features on the 7-side laser disk set, "Dawn of
Sound" (ISBN 0-7928-1198-4) is "Hollywood Review of 1929,"
featuring Buster doing an underwater Egyptian dance.  In that
film's Technicolor grand finale, Buster looks silently bewildered
as he does _not_ join in "Singin' in the Rain."  (This set also
includes the features "The Broadway Melody" (1929), and "Show of
Shows" (1929), and some short material.)
     A recently-published book, _The Complete Films of Buster
Keaton_ by Jim Kline (ISBN 0-8065-1303-9) is an excellent source
of photos and info on Buster's life and films.  I refer to it
constantly.  Another great book, still in print as I write this,
is _Keaton, the Man Who Wouldn't Lie Down_, by Tom Dardis (ISBN
0-87910-117-2).  It features lots of photos, and details on
Buster's life.  Some great anecdotes.
     A 3-hour documentary, "Buster Keaton: A Hard Act to Follow"
(1987) is very worthwhile, and is still listed in at least one
laser-disk catalog.  It is _very much_ worth whatever effort
you'll have to undergo to track it down.
     American Movie Classics has recently been running "This Is
Your Life, Buster Keaton," which features the famous falling-wall
scene.
     I've come to admire Keaton so much, that I recently
purchased a Keaton autograph.  It's a pencil signature on a slip
of paper.  On the back is typewritten "DINNER Ox Tail Soup."  In
pencil (I can't tell if it's Keaton's writing) is written, "The
Live of a Dog."  Neat!  (If you're interested, I ordered it from
an ad in Autograph Collector Magazine /  510-A S. Corona Mall  / 
Corona CA 91719-1420.)
     Chaplin's centennial (1989) was celebrated with numerous
video releases.  Harold Lloyd's, on the other hand, came and went
in 1993, and I don't remember seeing any fireworks over that. 
October 4th of 1995 will mark the centennial of Keaton's birth. 
Wouldn't it be nice if there were a tremendous glut of Keaton
material made available?
     Well, just as I put the finishing touches on this article, I
am happy to report that some of the information herein will soon
be obsolete.  Kino Video (the folks who gave us the incredible
five-video set, "The Movies Begin:  A Treasury of Early Cinema
1894-1914") will release three sets (for a total of ten tapes) of
restored Keaton material.  Some of this material I don't have--
and I'm pretty aggressive when looking for Keaton!--while other
material that I do have, is of abysmal quality.  By whatever
means necessary, get hold of a catalog from:  Kino Video  /  333
W 39 Street, Suite 503  /  New York NY 10018.  Their nice
selection of silent and other material actually made my mouth
water!
     I'm hoping 1995 brings a Keaton Renaissance.  Do yourself a
favor--get a head start on it!

     I can imagine historians one thousand years from now,
sorting through the madness of late 20th-century culture,
cleaning away the debris of degeneracy with a horrified
fascination, to finally unearth a pleasant exception--several
discs containing Keaton's best work.
     When James Mason moved into a house once owned by Buster, he
was surprised to find the only known copies of many Keaton films,
abandoned in the cellar.  Keaton had thought, once forgotten by
the public, always forgotten, so had not considered the canisters
of film to be important.  If the house's new owner had been
careless, they could have been thrown out.  What catastrophe
might one compare that to?  Perhaps, the burning of the
Lighthouse at Alexandria?

*****
Some books I recently purchased:
     _The Complete Films of Cecil B. DeMille_, by Gene Ringgold &
DeWitt Bodeen, ISBN 0-8065-0956-2.  Several photos for each film;
info on many silents.

     _Frame-Up!  The Untold Story of Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle_, by
Andy Edmonds, ISBN 0-668-09129-6.  A few pages of photos. 
Detailed filmography.

     _Louise Brooks_, by Barry Paris, ISBN 0-385-41559-1.  Many
many photos of this lovely lady.  Detailed filmography.

     _The Silent Clowns_, by Walter Kerr, ISBN 0-306-80387-9. 
Many many photos.  This is a new edition of an older book.

*****
Rodney Schroeter  /  Box 37766  /  Milwaukee WI 53237-0766
579-1716@mcimail.com

12-19-94

Entire contents of this column copyright 1994 by Rodney
Schroeter.  Permission is given by the author to freely
distribute this article, if kept intact & unchanged.  Such
permission may be withdrawn in the future--from specific
individuals, or from the general public.