Review - What! No Beer?

January 17, 2019

What! No Beer? – U.S., 1933

The cynic in me is convinced that Edward Sedgwick’s instructions to the stars of his 1933 film What! No Beer? were, “Buster, act shy and uncomfortable, and Jimmy, be loud and obnoxious,” in other words, to play the same roles they’d played in countless other films. And this makes sense in a way. After all, What! No Beer? is one of Sedgwick’s lazier films – it can’t even be bothered to give its stars original names. Keaton plays another character named Elmer, while Jimmy plays, who else, his best friend, Jimmy. A curious choice, really. Elmer, like so many of Keaton’s characters is awkward, reserved, and physically clumsy; Jimmy is boisterous, vigorous, and laughter-prone. In fact, he’s probably never made a joke that he didn’t find hilarious. The pairing made sense in Speak Easily, in which Jimmy was a member of the performance troupe that Keaton’s character decided to back financially. Here, we’re asked to accept them as life-long friends, but I have a feeling that two people with such contrasting personalities would have drifted apart long ago.

The film, a comedy without any real laughs, begins on the eve of an election in 1933 in which every state appears to be going to the ballot box to vote either dry or wet. When it’s a clean sweep for wet, Jimmy comes up with the idea of being the first to re-open a bar. So, he and Elmer spend all of Elmer’s life savings on a run-down brewery and open it the following day. There’s only one problem: Prohibition hasn’t officially ended yet. This makes them bootleggers and completion to the local gangsters who prospered during the years of the great dry experiment.

There’s comic potential in the scenario. Jimmy and Elmer could actually get into their new roles as criminals doing something that is on the verge is being legal. They could take on new personalities, bumble and stumble while trying to act the part of characters they would likely only know through movies and stereotypes, all the while getting deeper and deeper into a criminal world that they have no clue how to maneuver in. Alas, instead we get Durante and Keaton playing variations of the same characters we’ve seen them play countless times. It’s rare that I assume I know what was going on in an actor’s mind when he made a film, but it hard not to look at Keaton in this film and not see a disappointed actor. Here he is playing the same role he’s played numerous times before in service of a script that is undeserving of him. I would go so far as to say that neither Segwick not screenwriter Carey Wilson knew what to do with Keaton. Case in point, late in the film Keaton is shown running away from a truckful of barrels of beer which have gotten loose. The old Keaton, the one that had creative control and wasn’t shy about taking risks physically, would have used the scene as an opportunity to dazzle audiences with his athletic prowess and comic timing. Here, he just finds a place to take shelter and waits for the chaos to subside. Nothing really to see there. (Wikipedia offers a more depressing explanation for Keaton's demeanor. You can read it here)

The best Buster Keaton films combine slapstick comedy with romantic sensibility. In them, Keaton is often on a mission to marry the woman he loves, and we, through his devotion and determination, root him on in this pursuit. What! No Beer? denies Keaton much of the slapstick that made him famous. Instead, he’s reduced to just looking uncomfortable in compromising positions and straining to make scenes that were past their expiration date even in 1933 humorous. What’s worse, like so many of his later films, he’s saddled with a romance that seems thrown together without much thought. For example, it’s one thing for a character to say I hate my abusive gangster boyfriend; it’s quite another to say Now I’ll marry the awkward guy I just met. The only intriguing thing about the scenes involving Elmer and the woman he loves, played by Phyllis Barry, is a risqué bit in which she is trying to seduce him and he acts as if he’s completely oblivious to her double entendres. We’ve seen moments like this before, but there’s a boldness to the seduction that’s new for a Buster Keaton film. The problem is that Keaton and Barry have so little screen time together that they have no opportunity to develop any genuine chemistry, and there’s a coldness to their scenes that is unusual for a Keaton film, at least for early Keaton ones.

What! No Beer? was the last film that Keaton made for Metro Goldwyn-Meyer, and if I’m honest, that studio, with the exception of 1928’s The Cameraman, never used Keaton to his strength. Perhaps it was inevitable. Few slapstick comedians from the silent era successfully made the transition to talking films, and the ones that did often saw their creativity curtailed. It is clear that Keaton had very little, if any, control over what he did in What! No Beer? and that those who did, did not have the sense to let Keaton play against type or to at least give him enough scenes with Barry to make their eventual love more realistic. Instead, we get a rushed studio product, the equivalent of the greatest hits albums that record companies force bands to release to get out of their contacts. At least with those album, you get something that fans can use to discover a band later on; What! No Beer? gives us no greatest hits, no classic scenes to buzz about online, and no moments of sheer romantic brilliance or slapstick insanity. Instead, we get a movie that I can’t imagine inspiring people to look back at Keaton’s earlier work. It’s more likely to make people wonder what all the fuss surrounding Keaton was about, and this is a genuine shame. (on DVD from WB’s Archive Collection)

2 stars

Review - The Passionate Plumber

December 13, 2018

The Passionate Plumber – US, 1932

Edward Sedgwick’s The Passionate Plumber is one of the more curious films I’ve ever seen, and in this instance, that is not a compliment. Here’s a movie set in Paris with mainly French characters, yet none of the lead actors actually speaks French. Now before you say that’s because they’re in an American film, consider this: They are surrounded by French speakers speaking nothing but French, yet here are our lead characters, some of them with French names, speaking English and, occasionally, extremely butchered French. It’s odd to say the least. Add to that, the stereotypically exaggerated way in which practically every French man in the film reacts to the film’s hero and the fact that one of the leads is a hot-tempered Spanish woman who screams and breaks things as a way of showing her affection, and you’ve got a movie that probably could not be made today.

But this is a film from 1932, and it is a Buster Keaton film as well, so if you subscribe to the viewpoint of a moral relativist, you’ll argue that it is wrong to judge the film by today’s expectations of logic and our abhorrence of cultural stereotypes. This is a sentiment I partially agree with, having argued that movies that feature Caucasian actors in either blackface or yellowface should not be shunned simply for featuring something that many others featured at the time. Yet, consider for a moment the choices that many of those films made, mainly to have all of its characters speak the same language and have the same level of fluency. In other words, the audience heard them speak perfect English, but we knew they were really speaking faultless Chinese or Spanish. I half-expected The Passionate Plumber to begin much in the way Mel Brooks began To Be or Not to Be, with Anne Bancroft and Mel Brooks quarreling in Polish only to be interrupted by a narrator informing them and us that the film will no longer be in that language. And we can accept English accents as French so long as everyone has one. When only half do, it’s another matter entirely.

The Passionate Plumber finds Buster Keaton playing Elmer E. Tuttle (The E is short for Elmer.), a plumber in Paris who in the film’s early moments is summoned to fix the shower of a wealthy Parisian woman named Patricia Jadine (Irene Purcell). Patricia is trying to evade her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Tony (Gilbert Roland). It seems that Tony is married and Patricia has decided she needs a new start. If only she weren’t so in love with him and so easily drawn back into his arms by his romantic words and sugary promises of a long-term commitment. Eventually, Patricia turns to Elmer for help. His task is simple: Do whatever is takes to keep her from running back to him.

There’s definitely comic potential in this scenario, and those of us familiar with earlier Keaton films can easily predict just who Patricia will end up with in the end, yet the film never truly finds its footing. Far too much time is devoted to a subplot involving Elmer trying to tell a military commander about a night gun he’s invented, and then there’s the unusual amount of time devoted to explaining Tony’s situation. It’s almost as if the film is trying to make him a tragic hero, a man who can’t control his passion for women and because of that flaw can’t see the truly amazing woman in front of him. Normally, I don’t mind such character exploration, yet they forgot one key detail: Tony is the antagonist.

Keaton doesn’t get many truly great comic opportunities here. While I enjoyed the persistent gag involving Elmer’s reluctant habit of slapping most of the French men he angers with a white glove (and on one occasion a bath towel) and the ingenious way he gets out of each ensuing challenge to a dual, I never really laughed aloud at it. In fact, in my notes, I have the words “finally laughed” under the line “You said that yesterday,” yet for the life of me, I can’t remember what it was uttered in response to. I guess it was just that kind of movie. Joining Keaton in his many attempts at zaniness once again is Jimmy Durant, and while I praised his performance in Speak Easily for breathing life into that disaster, here I found him somewhat intolerable, not because he does not bring energy to the film, but because he’s essentially playing the same character – a loud, wise cracking sidekick with a knack for expressing wit and uttering rather horrible jokes. Having seen the shtick once, I was less impressed the second time around.

When Keaton was at his peak, his films were a marvelous combination of slapstick, deadpan, and romance. When Keaton got the girl, it was because he had finally been able to be the person he’d always wanted to be in her eyes. Such early happy endings continue to leave audiences with a deep sense of satisfaction. I remember the feeling I had at the end of College with its final shots of Keaton’s headstone next to his wife’s, signaling that to them it really was till death do us part. The Passionate Plumber fails because it neglects to make Elmer and Patricia a couple we root for. In truth, how can we when the film devotes no time at all to establishing a connection between them? Instead, it appears to be operating on that assumption that far too many films have made: that if a character just hangs around long enough, a woman will realize she loves him eventually. This works in short films, yet when a film has over 70 minutes to build a relationship and elects not to, the happy ending comes across as unearned and, perhaps even more egregious, uninspired.

And that’s a shame because had the film focused more on Elmer and Patricia, it may have worked. Keaton and Purcell certainly have excellent comic timing, and they appear at ease with each other even during the movie’s more “pre-code” moments. I just didn’t buy the ending. A wiser film would have just let Elmer leave the way he came in, having successfully preventing Patricia from belittling herself any longer. She would be ready to move on, and Elmer would be off to his next plumbing gig. Alas, such endings are more associated with Chaplin. Keaton simply had to get the girl. I get it, I do. I’m just a little tired of it, that’s all. (on DVD as part of Warner Brothers’ Buster Keaton at MGM triple feature)

2 stars 

Review - Speak Easily

November 15, 2018

Speak Easily – U.S., 1932

Thank goodness for Jimmy Durante. This is, of course, an odd way to begin a review of a Buster Keaton movie, but bear this in mind, it is a review of a late Buster Keaton movie, and as fans of his are likely well aware of, his later films were not kind to him. In Edward Sedgwick's Speak Easily, he plays a college professor named Potts (Buster Keaton) who mistakenly believes he has inherited a sizable fortune. The motivation for this deception is this: to teach him how to live, a sentiment that sounds downright noble until you realize that the deception could thrust him into bankruptcy. Eventually, the professor agrees to produce a show on Broadway with his non-existent wealth.

But back to Durante. The multi-talented performer had all the credentials to play James, the head of a traveling revue show, from his superb skills on the piano to his particularly gruff voice. He also had the kind of infectious energy normally seen in someone who’s taken Vivarin and is now on his seventh cup of coffee. He is virtually bouncing off of walls in every scene. His appearance immediately lifts ever scene he is in, and even when the plot fails him, which it frequently does, he carries on as if nothing matters. The camera is rolling, and he is on!

I wish I could say the same for the rest of the cast. I don’t mean to imply that their performances are awful. Rather, they are failed by an inconsistent and scattershot script. In one glaring example of the script’s incompetence, a Broadway producer (who shares an uncanny resemblance with Orson Welles) loudly declares Jimmy’s show to be atrocious and Jimmy himself to be entirely devoid of humor. However, there the character is a moment later proclaiming that he is going to produce the show anyway. Then the audience is expected to believe that a traveling theater group whose performances were so loathed that its audience was on their way out the door even before the curtain could begin raising for the curtain call would suddenly command a packed audience on opening night. Perhaps their reputation hadn’t preceded them, but it’s not likely.

Of course, this couldn’t be a Buster Keaton film without there being a love interest, so the film introduces us to Pansy Peets (Ruth Selwyn), a dancer whose style is circa 1850. The two meet when she literally runs into him while traveling to her next gig. Potts is smitten instantly. One would expect therefore for Potts and Pansy (which I just realized sounds a lot like pots and pans) to be given significant screen time together to establish their emotional connection, yet the screenwriter elects to keep them apart, instead introducing a rival for the professor’s affection, a former speakeasy dancer named Eleanor Espere (Thelma Todd). Eleanor is the bad girl. How do we know? She’s willing to strip down to her black negligee during her “audition.” Needless to say, she gets the part.

As a Pre-code film, Speak Easily has more than its fair share of risqué moments, from the professor’s unintended double entendres to Eleanor’s intended ones. There’s also a scene in which the professor finds himself in the ladies’ changing room and one in which he and Eleanor strip down to their evening wear (separately, of course). Yet the film lacks a narrative that would make the jokes worthwhile; instead, they are in service of a story that starts on the wrong foot and never finds a suitable rhythm, an even more egregious crime for a musical.

Two things are at the core of the film’s failure. First is the role of the professor. As written, the professor is either the most socially inept person you’ll ever meet or an undiagnosed sufferer of Asperger’s Syndrome, for he has never heard a sarcastic or idiomatic expression that he understood. This starts out mildly amusing, yet soon wears on you the way that a soft, high-pitch sound eventually become so invasive that it drowns out all other sounds and gives you a throbbing headache. And because Potts never picks up on anyone’s advances, he is unable to do much to develop a relationship with Pansy. He’s something out of a British romance, only he’s the character being forced upon the heroine by a greedy parent.

And it goes without saying that the film is not consistent when it comes to the quality of the show finally put on on a Broadway stage. No, instead of stinking to high heaven, like the performance presented towards the beginning of the film, the cast is suddenly immensely talented, precise in their timing, and utterly embraced by the crowd. The jokes that fell flat earlier in the film abruptly work, the dancing that was earlier criticized is met with thunderous applause, and jokes that are still not funny miraculously begin tickling funny bones everywhere. It’s as if we’ve entered a Bizarro world where up is down and the unamusing is uproarious. Oh, and nothing that goes wrong ever has a consequence. Mistakes equal hits.

One day a film will be made in which a dud remains a dud, a critic doesn’t suddenly become a fan, and bad jokes are consistently met with groans and stunned silence, regardless of when they are said in the picture. Speak Easily is not this film. Instead, it’s a film that starts D.O.A. and only shows intermittent flickers of life. It is failed by a lackluster script and a lead role that is not written to the strength of the superstar playing it. Sadly, this is easily one of Buster Keaton’s worst films. (on DVD from Warner Archives)

1 and a half stars

Review - Parlor, Bedroom, and Bath

September 13, 2018

Parlor, Bedroom, and Bath – 1931, US

To illustrate one of my difficulties with Edward Sedgwick’s Parlor, Bedroom, and Bath, I will ask you consider an alternative version of Steven Soderbergh’s Ocean’s 11. In this version, the film is essentially the same right up until the scene in which Danny Ocean lays out his plan in front of his ten cohorts. Then for some inexplicable reason, the film jump ahead in time. The gang of thieves - sans Danny, of course - is now in front of Caesar’s Palace watching the fountains dance, Tess has rediscovered her feelings for her ex-husband, and it seems everything will end happily ever after. Now, regardless of whatever came next in the film, wouldn’t you feel a tad bit cheated? If your answer is yes, you know precisely how I felt watching Parlor, Bedroom, and Bath.

The film has a somewhat promising premise: A wealthy man named Jeff (Reginald Denny) must find a husband for his fiancée’s older sister, Angie (Dorothy Christy), or else Angie is doomed to remain single forever, an option, it must be said, that she doesn’t seem to have much of an objection to. Jeff resolves to solve the problem by the end of the week, and as luck would have it (luck for Jeff, that is), he just happens to hit a pedestrian who a moment earlier had fallen head over heels in love with Angie at first glance. Talk about a coincidence.

The pedestrian is Reginald Irving, sign tagger (Buster Keaton). Jeff arranges for him to be taken care of at Angie’s home. He also concocts an elaborate plan to give Reginald the reputations of being both a ladies man and a man of means. Reginald is neither, of course, In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d never been kissed in his life. No matter, Jeff arranges for Reginald to be visited by a string of women, each one acting more grief-stricken than the last and each promising to wait for him. Keaton’s reactions were priceless during this scene.

And strangely enough it works. Soon, Angie develops a soft spot for him, reasoning that anyone who is being pursued by that many suitors must be something really special. Thus begins a series of hilarious madcap events, all designed to get Angie not only to like Reginald but also to want to marry him in no time flat. Just kidding. Such scenes actually do not exist. No, instead the film flashes forward, and the next thing we know Reginald’s engaged to Angie (just who popped the question is unclear) and coping with a guilty conscience. To which I have only this to say: What a wasted opportunity.

Hard to believe, but the film gets even more problematic from there, for in its last thirty minutes, it begins to resemble one of Pedro Almadovar’s lesser-quality sex comedies. In these scenes, we get someone’s version of humor – not mine clearly and if I can read Keaton’s body language correctly, not his either. In the finale, Keaton thinks one thing, and a young woman believes another. Now, normally there’s nothing necessarily wrong with most cinematic situations that fit that description, yet in this case, the man thinks a seduction is fake, while a woman (actually more than one) thinks she is in danger of being sexually assaulted. I suppose we are meant to laugh when Reginald tries to wrap his arm around the woman as she screams and begs him to leave her be, but I couldn’t. The sequence made me sick to my stomach, and this is despite the frequent slapstick sequences scattered throughout the scene. I was reminded of a scene in The Naked Gun in which a woman thinks Frank Drebin is going to assault her with an intimate piece of a statue that broke off. What separates the two scenes however is this: Drebin suddenly become aware of how it looks and seeks to smooth things over, while Reginald just moves on to his next unintended target. I just didn’t find it funny.

There are a few daring pre-Code moments in the film that will make jaws drop. One of these involves Angie ending an engagement because of “specifications in a bathing suit,” which brought to mind an episode of Seinfeld. There are also a few flashes of shoulders sprinkled throughout the film, and these must have been considered scandalous back in the day. I also enjoyed some of the film’s witty dialogue. For example, in one scene, Reginald asks the driver of a hay truck who’s given him and a young lady a lift how much he owes him. The driver replies, “Do you think $2 would be too much?” Reginald answers yes.

However, these moments are few and far between. The film is neither amusing enough to sustain interest, nor risqué enough to be bold. Worst of all, it gives Buster Keaton little to do until the very last scene, when he is finally able to break loose and showcase his array of comedic talents. To me, it was too little, too late. I would much rather have seen an extra half an hour of Reginald’s attempts to woo Angie. In addition to this being rather whimsical, it would also have explained why the two of them like each other in the first place and perhaps removed the stigma that Angie gets of being a stuck-up money-obsessed snob for whom no man will ever be good enough. We never get to see another side of her, and that is to the detriment of the film. After all, it’s hard to root for someone when someone else seems like such a better choice. (on DVD as part of Warner Archive’s Buster Keaton at MGM)

2 stars

Review - Doughboys (1930)

July 19, 2018

Doughboys – US, 1930

Spare a thought for poor Buster Keaton, and add one more for all of the other silent actors in his position following the advent of sound. I don’t mean poor in a financial sense, but rather unfortunate, as in the state of having all that made them what they were taken away in an instant. Imagine that: One minute you are on the top of the world, the master of your own destiny; the next, you are reduced to making schlop like Edward Sedgwick's Doughboys. And Doughboys is not the respectable kind of schlop; it’s not the kind of schlop which people make because they woke up with an idea that, despite all of their hard work, just never completely pans out. Instead, it’s the worst kind, a safe, bland vehicle that employs a paint-by-numbers formula, poorly utilizes its star, and inadvertently reveals their lack of confidence in his or her creative impulses. Yep, it’s that kind of film.

Yet it’s more than that. It’s also a tired example of a film genre that moviegoers are all too familiar with now and which rarely has produced much in the way of decent films. Laurel and Hardy did a version of it, as did Abbott and Costello; Bill Murray even tried his hand at it later with Stripes. None of them had any success. By it, of course, I mean that genre in which some hapless soul finds himself accidentally registering for the army, going through boot camp being harassed by a tough-as-nails drill instructor, and then being sent to some foreign conflict where he inadvertently finds himself saving the day and getting the girl. Sound familiar?

In Doughboys, Keaton plays Elmer J. Stuyvesant, a pampered member of the upper class who seems to have nothing better to do than wait outside his company’s factory every afternoon and ask the same woman out. Each day he has in his hands a fresh bouquet of roses, and each day he ends up handing them to his driver, Gustav, who just shakes his head as if lamenting the repetitiveness of both the offer and the rejection. Surely, there must be better ways to make a living.

After yet another rejection, Gustav suggests they make his employment official by going to an employment registry. Elmer agrees, and through a series of mishaps involving a sign on a door and some peculiar questions, he abruptly finds himself shipped off to basic training. There he encounters, you guessed it, a sergeant who has it in for him, a pal who just happens to be a talented musician, and, wouldn’t you guess it, Mary (Sally Eilers). That’s right. The woman who has made a habit of crushing his dreams just happens to have been assigned entertainment duty at the very base he is stationed at.

Unfortunately, instead of telling a compelling narrative, the film is content to get by on short scenes in which Elmer errs, the sergeant yells, and nothing much of consequence ever seems to occur. It’s everything I hated about Buck Privates, but with far fewer characters. Even more egregious, none of the film’s five writers – two of them wrote the story, one contributed the scenario, and two share the blame for the dialogue – saw fit to explore the romance that supposedly rests at the heart of the film. Instead, we are asked to believe that Mary becomes sweet on Elmer simply because he enlists. The characters have no heart-to-hearts or anything even remotely resembling an extended dialogue, and this is a mistake. Keaton’s silent films are known not just for the deadpan delivery of its leading man. They are films about love and the great lengths one goes to earn it. Think of College and its perfect closing montage, showing the characters aging, dying, and resting next to each other for eternity. Or Our Hospitality, in which Keaton’s character swings through a waterfall to catch the one he loves. It is moments like these, coupled with Keaton’s characters’ impressive ability to persevere when faced with adversity, that drive his early films, yet Doughboys neglects this – to its detriment.

Only two scenes truly stand out. In the first one, Elmer sits with two of his army buddies and breaks out a ukulele. His friend Nescopeck, played by singer Cliff Edwards, scats out a tune, during which his voice alternates from a natural lower voice to a high-pitched cat-like growl, essentially singing a duet with himself. Keaton chimes in, bopping a rather likable beat, and a fellow soldier soon joins in, playing his rifle like a bass. It’s a great scene, and it does nothing to advance the plot. It is also one of the few times in the film when Keaton doesn’t look somewhat bored by what he’s doing on camera. In truth, I don’t blame him. Accustomed to playing scenes out or structuring films around a series of slapstick gags, it must have pained him to have so many quick cuts. In many, he’s just getting started before some character yells at him to knock it off. The other noteworthy scene, or should I say half a scene, comes in the latter third of the film during a musical number that strains too hard to be different. In it, Eilers comes out and shows off her tap dancing skills, and my, aren’t they impressive! And what joy she displays! It made me long for a full-fledged musical with her in the leading role.

This is really all I can recommend of Doughboys, for even though the rest of it has moments of comic promise, the rug is pulled out from under them far too quickly for them to resonate. One of them involves Keaton hearing a bugle call while taking a shower. In the very next scene, there he is standing for inspection wearing very little other than his suspenders. And wouldn’t you know it, just at that moment Mary arrives hoping to see him in his army duds. The moment is rife with comic potential, yet all Keaton is given to do is hide and then exit as rapidly as possible. Mission accomplished, I guess. However, the scene feels rushed, and it produces little in the way of laughter other than a mild, polite chuckle, followed by an instinctive shaking of the head. In other words, the scene is a perfect summation of the film and the disappointment it is likely to inspire in its viewers. Buster Keaton deserved so much better. (on DVD from Warner Archives)

2 stars

Review - Spite Marriage

March 3, 2018

Spite Marriage – US, 1929

In many ways, Edward Sedgwick’s Spite Marriage was the end of an era. Released two years after The Jazz Singer, it was the finale of “silent Keaton,” the actor who didn’t need dialogue to get across such complex emotions as love, befuddlement, courage, and determination. His expressions were anything but mere deadpan. To see him scurry across the screen is to see a man on a mission, and usually that mission was to save a beloved damsel in distress. Silent Keaton was a hopeless romantic, a guy who fought hard for the girl and for whom the term till death do us part was to be taken literally. He was a man to root for, even in roles in which his character is on the wrong side of history.

Spite Marriage finds Keaton in the role of Elmer Gantry, a love-struck admirer of a stage actress named Trilby Drew (Dorothy Sebastian). In fact, he’s so taken by her that he’s begun inserting himself into as much of her daily life as possible. In a series of early scenes, we see him feigning horseback-riding skills, pretending to be part of the press, and wandering backstage before and after performances, each time dressed like a rather upstanding gentleman. In reality, he is anything but, and in a rather clever scene, we see just how he is able to get his hands on such impressive-looking clothing.

These early scenes allow Keaton to play up his romantic instincts. We see him gaze lovingly at Trilby from the front row, and his eyes follow her even when the action takes place away from her. We learn that Elmer has seen the play thirty-five times, and seeing his instinctive habit of mimicking Trilby’s movements, it seems clear that he has memorized every aspect of her blocking. These early scenes are a delight. In lesser hands, they might come across as unintentionally creepy, but Keaton gives them the innocence and sincerity they need to convince us of Elmer’s noble intentions.

The movie eventually finds Trilby and Elmer married, not because she has fallen hard for the guy, but because the true object of her affection, a co-star named Lionel Benmore (Edward Earle), turns out to have a compulsion for being unfaithful. Trilby reasons that what’s good for the goose is good for the gander, and, in a moment of utterly foolish logic, not only proposes to Elmer but also insists that they get married that very evening – hence, the spite in the title.

The first half of the film lags slightly, partly due to its inclusion of scenes from Trilby’s play, Carolina. There is of course a reason behind this decision, one which I will not reveal, yet it was a bit tedious sitting through it the first time. The only saving grace was the odd sight of movie actors pretending to be performing live onstage, yet using silent film acting techniques. The film really picks up after the wedding, when Elmer’s life takes a truly unexpected and fun turn.  

Like many silent films from the slapstick era, Spite Marriage is built around a series of long physical gags. My favorites of these occurred in the second half of the film, yet comparing the scenes to similar ones in Keaton’s earlier films, I couldn’t help noticing how quickly they were over. It’s as if the studio was unsure that audiences would still sit through a long gag without sound. It reminded me of the brevity of many of the slapstick scenes in Laurel & Hardy’s later films, and I couldn’t help feeling this was a lost opportunity.

Viewers familiar with Keaton’s career will notice similarities between this film and some of his earlier ones. For example, Carolina has elements of The General in it, and the film’s second half includes homages to both The Navigator and College. There’s also a great scene in which ruffian after ruffian is fooled by the same ruse, one that likely would have been deemed too risqué just ten years later.

In other words, there’s a lot to like about Spite Marriage. Sure, the first half of the film drags a bit, but it does so for a purpose. You have to admire a film that isn’t afraid to slow things down and allow audiences to see for themselves just what would make the public adopt Miss Drew as their newest sweetheart. We get what Elmer sees in her, and by the end of the film, it’s crystal clear what she sees in him.

And perhaps it is that feature that makes Keaton such an indelible performer. Like Chaplin, possibly his most famous contemporary, he created a character that we can all see a little of ourselves in and perhaps even strive to be like. He was driven by both his heart and his strong sense of right and wrong, and when danger appeared, there was no greater champion of the vulnerable. Whether it was a deadly storm, a towering obstacle, and a brute twice his size and strength, he ran toward the fight, and when it was over, like all great superheroes, he wanted nothing in return. He was a hero in his time, and he remains one in ours. Spite Marriage may have been the last of its kind, but what a way to go out. (on DVD as part of the TCM Archives Buster Keaton Collection)

3 stars

Review - Free and Easy (1930)

June 16, 2016

Free and Easy – US, 1930

You can see the nervous, shaking hands of Hollywood all over Edward Sedgwick’s 1930 film Free and Easy. Here is a film starring Buster Keaton, an established star, that plays more like a trial run for an actor that a studio is of two minds about. It is as if they were conducting a test to determine whether audiences would still find him funny now that they could hear his voice, root for him to get the girl at a time when he was somewhat older, and ultimately continue to financially support his films in post-Jazz Singer Hollywood. If this was indeed their motivation, they should have chosen a much better test.

Free and Easy finds Keaton playing Elmer Butts, the clumsy, yet sweet-natured agent of a local pageant winner named Elvira Plunkett (Anita Page), who is on her way to California to try to make a name for herself in Hollywood. Accompanying them is Elvira’s overbearing and obnoxious mother (Trixie Friganza) because practically every comedy of this sort required a mother to be loud, rude, and controlling. The role is a cliché, and no attempt is made to establish a character or explain her background. There’s not even the obligatory, “It’s my job to protect you now that your father is gone,” which would have at least established a motivation. Instead, we get a character whose dominating personality exists solely for comic purposes, yet provides few, if any, laughs at all.

On the train to California, mother and daughter meet a famous actor named Larry Mitchell, played by Robert Montgomery. We know he’s famous because Elvira finds his picture in one of the Hollywood magazines of the time. The three of them are soon separated, but somehow we just know they’ll be reunited. After all, the genre calls for him to be instrumental in getting Elvira her first big break. In a bit of a surprise, he has a surprise hand in getting Elmer an audition. Unfortunately, Elmer proves himself to have little screen presence, almost no comic timing, and extreme difficulty understanding even the most basic directions from director Lionel Barrymore – that is, until it is cinematically convenient that he do so.

If is often said that slapstick comedies were collections of various gags fit nicely into the most basic of plots. For example, a boy’s pursuit of a girl could contain a party scene, a training scene, a big speech, and a daring rescue, with only one of two of them being truly essential to the plot, and in many ways, Free and Easy resembles such early slapstick films. There’s a long scene involving Elmer’s attempts to get onto a Hollywood lot that does not serve any narrative purpose, and the film’s final act is a long song and dance number whose only reason for existing seems to be to prove to audiences that Buster Keaton could sing and dance, a point at odds with its earlier contention that he couldn’t.

In between these scenes, the film struggles both narratively and comically. While it includes a few interesting and tender moments between Elmer and Elvira, it never establishes much of a narrative arc, relying instead on brief appearances by popular Hollywood figures such as director Fred Niblo, Gwen Lee, John Miljan, Karl Dane, Jackie Coogan, and Cecil B. DeMille, as well as impressive set pieces on MGM’s Hollywood lot. Audiences in 1930 likely enjoyed seeing such an array of figures in the same movie, and I can imagine them pointing to the screen each time someone they recognized appeared. However, removed from 1930s Hollywood, the scenes have little purpose. Worse than that, they slow the film down and rob it of time that could have been used to advance the storylines involving Elmer, Elvira, and Larry. In fact, I’d venture to say that at least half of Free and Easy is comprised of scenes from “other films,” including most of the film’s big finale. So, while the film’s final moments are filled with wonder, fancy footwork, and impressive effects for the time, none of them is truly essential to the plot.

The film has much bigger problems, however. It is perfectly understandable that MGM would have wanted to showcase their newly-built studio and demonstrate just what could be created on it. One wonders, then, why they didn’t just make Free and Easy a musical. Why couldn’t Elmer have sung about his love for Elvira, or Elvira’s mother rhapsodize about men and how important it was to keep them away from her daughter? Why wasn’t Larry given a song in which he explained his change of heart? Such moments would have made much more sense than a pre-code song about a fake king and queen.

And then there’s the direction. What can you say about a film in which takes that should have ended on the cutting-room floor made it into the final product? Were the other takes so much worse that Sedgwick just threw up his arms and moved on to the next scene? This sounds preposterous, but no other explanation makes sense. For the first half of the film, Keaton’s timing is just off. He seems a step behind the cast members, as if he was giving the audience time to laugh or trying to build up to a particular look or emotion. Whatever the reason, the result is awkward, and many scenes have an amateurish feel to them. A good director – or one with more power – should have been able to fix this. A good director – or a better screenwriter – would have known how to use Keaton properly. Here, no one seems to know how to film slapstick or build to comic moments, and scenes start and stop without any real purpose or reward for the audience. Many seem intended to be funny, yet they are more likely to produce stone-faced expressions and moments of utter silence.

Unfortunately, this was the fate of many comedians who tried to make the transition from silent comedy to talking films. They saw their power behind the camera, as well as their studio’s confidence in them, wane significantly. New directors came in, and many producers began emphasizing spectacle over plot. Movies simply had to move faster and be visually spectacular. Keaton’s work toward the end of Free and Easy demonstrate his ability to adapt and excel in the new medium; the first half does not. It’s inexplicable, and Keaton deserved better. (on DVD as part of TCM’s Buster Keaton Collection)

2 stars

*The film was an enormous hit and remade twice, first in 1937 as Pick a Star and then in 1945 as Abbott and Costello in Hollywood.

*TCM’s Buster Keaton Collection appears to be out of print.

Review - Air Raid Wardens

September 18, 2014

Air Raid Wardens – US, 1943

Laurel and Hardy’s 1943 film Air Raid Wardens, directed by Edward Sedgwick, has the look and feel of one of those educational videos that the War Department pumped out to keep morale up during the Second World War. At the time of the film’s release, the United States was in its second year of the war. Walt Disney studios had been commissioned to produce cartoons related to the war, and other studios were producing patriotic films that presented men and women in uniform as being honorable and valiant. 1942, for example, saw the release of John Huston’s spy drama Across the Pacific, Albert Herman’s The Dawn Express, about a Nazi spy ring looking for a chemical formula that will improve the energy output of oil, David Miller’s Flying Tigers, starring John Wayne, and Saboteur, directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Many of these films told about plots on American soil, and there was a palpable fear that the war would inevitably reach the American continent. At home, people were portrayed as needing to remain vigilant, for one never knew where the enemy might be lurking.  

It is in this context that Air Raid Wardens must be viewed, for judged on its merits alone, the film is only marginally interesting. In the beginning of the film, a narrator introduces us to a small town called Huxton. It could easily be any small town in the United States at that time. The narrator then introduces viewers to the town’s residents – its mayor, its business leaders, its prim and proper ladies. The narrator even interacts with them, greeting them cheerfully as if the man behind the camera is a member of their community and a trusted confidant. I can recall many elementary and middle school school videos beginning this same way.

Viewers are eventually introduced to Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, owners of businesses that don’t seem to stay open for very long. When we finally see the pair, they are locking up the store and heading to the local military recruitment office to enlist. They want to do their part in the war. At the time the film was released, Stan Laurel was 52 and looked it; Oliver Hardy was 50. It is therefore not a surprise when they are turned down by every branch of the American military. However, the two of them are still determined to do their part, and they are eventually given the opportunity to become air raid wardens, complete with a helmet, a whistle, and a gas mask. They could be more grateful for the opportunity.

Like other instructional movies at this time, Air Raid Wardens devotes half of its running time to demonstrating the ins and outs of being an air raid warden. Laurel and Hardy attend meetings during which earnest, patriotic community organizers explain what they are to do and just why it is so important that they do it well. Most of these scenes revolve around Dan Madison, played by Stephen McNally. Madison is the kind of community leader we are used to seeing in films such as this one – he’s inspiring, down-to-earth, and focused. In fact, I can’t recall him letting his guard down and smiling at any point in the film. Madison arranging training sessions and assigns night patrols to ensure that everyone has their lights off, and it is during these scenes that viewers get to see Laurel and Hardy at work. In one scene, the two of them try to convince one of the town’s inhabitants (Edgar Kennedy) to turn off his lights. Their efforts lead to a confrontation that is one of the highlights of the film. In the scene, a series of flickering lights is interpreted as a signal to the Japanese, as if their planes were always in the vicinity and could use such rudimentary signals to conduct bombing strikes at a moment’s notice. These were real fears at the time.

In a real instructional video, scenes such as the ones described above would be taken extremely seriously. Here, they are played for laughs, as Laurel and Hardy make a series of errors that eventually cause them to lose their treasured positions. Many of the gags in the film have been used in other Laurel and Hardy films, yet no moment in anything they’d done previously quite matches the gravity and patriotic sensibilities that Stan Laurel expresses in a short speech about their wanting to do their part for Uncle Sam. It’s quite touching, and one can clearly see how emotional the moment was for him.

The film includes language true to the time in which it was made, but that is today considered politically incorrect. It is interesting to note however that when the enemy does indeed show his face, it is not the enemy that was referred to in earlier scenes. In fact, Hollywood appears to have viewed German infiltration as a much bigger threat to Americans at home. Of war films made during 1942, only five of them involved Japan, and none of these films featured an attack on American soil.

Air Raid Wardens is not likely to be remembered as one of Laurel and Hardy’s better efforts. It is far too preachy and serious in tone, and in key moments, characters talk to each other as if they had to remind audiences what they are doing and who they are. However, the film has some genuine Laurel and Hardy moments. My favorites involved their efforts to get their nemesis to turn off the lights in his house, their method of getting into the enemy’s hideout, and their misguided attempt to send out a carrier pigeon. Observant viewers will also pick up on a rather curious reference to William Tell. Viewers in 1943 likely saw Air Raid Wardens as both informative and fun. I’m not sure modern-day viewers will find it as informative, yet there is enough that is amusing and fun in the film to make it worth discovering. (on DVD)

3 stars