The Great Buster: A Celebration

All the World's a Landing Pad

I could have kicked myself (with an appropriately spiraling prat-fall with legs propellering) when I missed the limited theatrical run of The Great Buster: A Celebration, the new documentary stitched together by Peter Bogdanovich. The life-work of Joseph Frank "Buster" Keaton has long been my movie-equivalent of comfort food. Precise, extraordinary and slightly melancholy (with only a dash of sentiment), his are the rare silent movies that do not "date" and seem extraordinary even by today's sophisticated standards.  That's due, in large part, because so many of today's films borrow the presentation and seek the comic timing that Keaton imbued in his films.* The testimony of many of those interviewed in the film attest to that.

Fortunately, TCM presented it as part of their day-long tribute to Keaton for a day in their annual "Summer Under the Stars" fest. Narrated by Bogdanovich himself, it contains a lot of what's come before in films about Keaton—the best of which is still Kevin Brownlow's Buster Keaton: A Hard Act to Follow (1987)—but also a lot of little-seen material that had to be dug for. And it has an interesting way to tell Keaton's story, one that is, indeed, a celebration, rather than the usual peak-valley-re-discovery arc presentation that follows the path his career took.

The story of Keaton (ironically for a comedian) is a sad one: after enjoying success with his own productions, Keaton—at the suggestion of his father-in-law—signed a deal with M-G-M, the lousiest studio to do a comedy at the time as the Marx Brothers and Laurel and Hardy found out for themselves, and found himself a square peg in M-G-M's restrictive round hole.

But, Bogdanovich switches it out a bit to ensure that his Keaton overview ends on a high note. In the first part of film he goes over Keaton's entire career—from his days as a precocious vaudeville performer in his parents' act (starting at the age of three!) where he first got the taste for performing for an audience, through his entry into film as a writer and performer for comedian Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle at the height of his career. Then (when Arbuckle was charged with manslaughter after the death of actress Virginia Rappe) stepped from his supporting roles to starring in comedy two-reelers, building on Arbuckle's mentorship—while he was working for Arbuckle, Keaton took one of the film cameras, took it apart and put it back together again—making his own short films, and then features.

Keaton's films were always popular, but his masterpiece, The General, was expensive and not a success, so he took his father-in-law's advice and signed with M-G-M to his detriment and everlasting regret. Then came his dry-spell, doing the occasional writing, even directing scenes, and punching up the films of other performers (like Red Skelton) losing two marriages and sinking into alcoholism and depression, even briefly being institutionalized after a nervous breakdown. Then, in the 1950's, his activity increased, showing up in Billy Wilder's Sunset Boulevard and Charlie Chaplin's Limelight,* appearing in shorts, television, and commercials, and guesting in movies in the 1960's.

Bogdanovich ends the section with Keaton's loving reception at the 1965 Venice Film Festival, which showed all of his features—Bogdnovich then does a "greatest hits" review, ending the film with the best of Keaton's lifetime of work.

It's a sublime choice—leaving a viewer wanting more from the master of the comedic landing without the pain of his fall.

*

* My experience watching Limelight was that Keaton was given short-shrift by Chaplin in their scenes together. But, in The Great Buster, comedian Richard Lewis, who was friends with Keaton's widow, said that Chaplin treated Keaton "like a king." And Norman Lloyd, who appeared in Limelight says that Chaplin had Keaton direct his death scene, so that he could concentrate on his performance. Now, that's a lot of trust, generosity, and respect reflected in that.