The General (15.)
1926. Directed by Buster Keaton, Cylde Bruckman.
Starring Buster Keaton, Marion Mack, Glen Cavender and Jim Farley. 75 mins. Silent, Black and White.
A story I once overheard. Gilbert Adair, a critic who was no stranger to the highbrow, was at a screening of Buster Keaton’s most famous comedy, The General, at the National Film Theatre. Naturally enough he found himself laughing uproariously quite frequently. Less naturally he found each burst of laughter being accompanied by a bout of Shhhing from behind him. Eventually he turned to confront the complainant. “It’s a comedy,” he explained.
“No,” came the reply, “it’s a classic.”
So, although it is great that The General is back in cinemas this week as part of the BFI’s Keaton season, which has been running since the start of the year and continues until the end of next month, you wonder if they are the best people to be handling it.
The General is made up of an extended train chase set in the American Civil War. (It is basically what Johnny Depp was trying to emulate at the end of the Lone Ranger.) It is the best part of nine decades old but can be enjoyed today without making any allowances: it is fast, funny, thrilling and touching.
Keaton’s deadpan persona and gymnastic ability are probably the key to his timeless appeal. That he is still appreciated as a giant over a century after his birth is testament both to his wizardry and the failure of anyone to really take his lead. It is depressing how much modern film comedy is really just a matter of pointing a camera at people talking. (Perverse too – at a time when the global market is becoming ever bigger, and the blockbusters that sate it are becoming ever more expensive, they are shunning a cheap universal language.)
How, why and when did we allow slapstick to become the lowest form of wit? I am sure in the seventies slapstick was still held in high regard and performers like Eric Sykes, Benny Hill or The Goodies could concoct some visual hilarity and be acclaimed for it. Now though it is the preserve of Mr Bean or children’s entertainers.
The BFI is running an accompanying Buster Keaton and The Cinema of Today season in which Geoff Andrew has selected some contemporary films that carry his influence. Some of the choices are clearly stretching – Uzak? The Coen Bros’ A Serious Man? - while other are kind of redundant – Bill Murray’s stony face turn in Broken Flowers, or Take Care of Your Scarf, Tatjana from the instinctively deadpan Finn Aki Kaurismaki’s. The selection of the Palestinian film The Time That Remains though is spot on (though surely room should have been found for at least one of Roy Andersson’s modern classics Songs From The Second Floor or You, The Living) and illustrates the rather alarming point that Keaton’s spirit can best be found in arthouse cinema.
The only Keatonesque moment in contemporary Hollywood film would be the motorway chase in The Matrix Reloaded and then more in concept than execution: there just aren’t enough wrist jockeys in the world to give Keanu Reeves or Laurence Fishburne Buster’s grace or wit.
1926. Directed by Buster Keaton, Cylde Bruckman.
Starring Buster Keaton, Marion Mack, Glen Cavender and Jim Farley. 75 mins. Silent, Black and White.
A story I once overheard. Gilbert Adair, a critic who was no stranger to the highbrow, was at a screening of Buster Keaton’s most famous comedy, The General, at the National Film Theatre. Naturally enough he found himself laughing uproariously quite frequently. Less naturally he found each burst of laughter being accompanied by a bout of Shhhing from behind him. Eventually he turned to confront the complainant. “It’s a comedy,” he explained.
“No,” came the reply, “it’s a classic.”
So, although it is great that The General is back in cinemas this week as part of the BFI’s Keaton season, which has been running since the start of the year and continues until the end of next month, you wonder if they are the best people to be handling it.
The General is made up of an extended train chase set in the American Civil War. (It is basically what Johnny Depp was trying to emulate at the end of the Lone Ranger.) It is the best part of nine decades old but can be enjoyed today without making any allowances: it is fast, funny, thrilling and touching.
Keaton’s deadpan persona and gymnastic ability are probably the key to his timeless appeal. That he is still appreciated as a giant over a century after his birth is testament both to his wizardry and the failure of anyone to really take his lead. It is depressing how much modern film comedy is really just a matter of pointing a camera at people talking. (Perverse too – at a time when the global market is becoming ever bigger, and the blockbusters that sate it are becoming ever more expensive, they are shunning a cheap universal language.)
How, why and when did we allow slapstick to become the lowest form of wit? I am sure in the seventies slapstick was still held in high regard and performers like Eric Sykes, Benny Hill or The Goodies could concoct some visual hilarity and be acclaimed for it. Now though it is the preserve of Mr Bean or children’s entertainers.
The BFI is running an accompanying Buster Keaton and The Cinema of Today season in which Geoff Andrew has selected some contemporary films that carry his influence. Some of the choices are clearly stretching – Uzak? The Coen Bros’ A Serious Man? - while other are kind of redundant – Bill Murray’s stony face turn in Broken Flowers, or Take Care of Your Scarf, Tatjana from the instinctively deadpan Finn Aki Kaurismaki’s. The selection of the Palestinian film The Time That Remains though is spot on (though surely room should have been found for at least one of Roy Andersson’s modern classics Songs From The Second Floor or You, The Living) and illustrates the rather alarming point that Keaton’s spirit can best be found in arthouse cinema.
The only Keatonesque moment in contemporary Hollywood film would be the motorway chase in The Matrix Reloaded and then more in concept than execution: there just aren’t enough wrist jockeys in the world to give Keanu Reeves or Laurence Fishburne Buster’s grace or wit.
