Steamboat Bill Jr (U.)
Directed by Charles Reisner.
Starring Buster Keaton, Marion Byron, Ernest Torrence, Tom McGuire. Black and White, Silent.1928. 70 mins
Silent comedy was all about the last gasp escape, stepping out of the way of the speeding train at the very last moment, or ducking down just before the plank swings round where your head had been. Steamboat Bill, Jr only runs 70 minutes, and for 55 of those, you may be wondering what all the fuss is about. The story of the uneasy meeting of a rough, sailor father and the soft-handed college-educated son he hadn't seen since he was born is sparing with the falls and physical comedy you associate Keaton with. But then, right at the end, it abruptly springs into the defining sequence of Keaton's career: him dodging around collapsing buildings as a town is blown apart in a cyclone. The Keaton moment that absolutely everyone knows – the front of the house falling around him as he stands motionless – is from here.
Or so I thought the first time I saw it. Then, I found everything prior to the spectacular finale to be a bit of slog really. If all you know of Keaton is spectacular stunts and falls it takes a bit of an adjustment to see him doing what is basically character comedy. I'd also confess that, however admirable he was as a stuntman and filmmaker, I'd always had a few reservations about him as a funny man. Stony-faced deadpan is a great comic tool, but it can become an easy get out. I was completely wrong about that. Trying to adapt to his father's disappointment in him, Keaton produces numerous hilarious moments. The best of these is a scene when dad takes him to the store to try on a series of hats to replace the dreaded beret. All he does is put on a bunch of hats, but it is a riot.
Of course, his characterisation is almost completely nullified by the finale when he instantly reverts to the fearless, gymnast who skips effortlessly and with precision timing between collapsing buildings and flying natural hazards who saves the lives of all the rest of the cast. In this way Steamboat Bill Jr is perhaps the clearest expression of Keaton's paradoxical screen image: a musclebound, concrete skulled he-man who uses his saucer eyes to try to convince audiences that he is a put-upon delicate flower.
Directed by Charles Reisner.
Starring Buster Keaton, Marion Byron, Ernest Torrence, Tom McGuire. Black and White, Silent.1928. 70 mins
Silent comedy was all about the last gasp escape, stepping out of the way of the speeding train at the very last moment, or ducking down just before the plank swings round where your head had been. Steamboat Bill, Jr only runs 70 minutes, and for 55 of those, you may be wondering what all the fuss is about. The story of the uneasy meeting of a rough, sailor father and the soft-handed college-educated son he hadn't seen since he was born is sparing with the falls and physical comedy you associate Keaton with. But then, right at the end, it abruptly springs into the defining sequence of Keaton's career: him dodging around collapsing buildings as a town is blown apart in a cyclone. The Keaton moment that absolutely everyone knows – the front of the house falling around him as he stands motionless – is from here.
Or so I thought the first time I saw it. Then, I found everything prior to the spectacular finale to be a bit of slog really. If all you know of Keaton is spectacular stunts and falls it takes a bit of an adjustment to see him doing what is basically character comedy. I'd also confess that, however admirable he was as a stuntman and filmmaker, I'd always had a few reservations about him as a funny man. Stony-faced deadpan is a great comic tool, but it can become an easy get out. I was completely wrong about that. Trying to adapt to his father's disappointment in him, Keaton produces numerous hilarious moments. The best of these is a scene when dad takes him to the store to try on a series of hats to replace the dreaded beret. All he does is put on a bunch of hats, but it is a riot.
Of course, his characterisation is almost completely nullified by the finale when he instantly reverts to the fearless, gymnast who skips effortlessly and with precision timing between collapsing buildings and flying natural hazards who saves the lives of all the rest of the cast. In this way Steamboat Bill Jr is perhaps the clearest expression of Keaton's paradoxical screen image: a musclebound, concrete skulled he-man who uses his saucer eyes to try to convince audiences that he is a put-upon delicate flower.
