The Paleface (1922)

The Paleface (Edward F. Cline/Buster Keaton,1922)
I've already done a piece on Buster Keaton's last silent film after selling his Keaton Studios to M-G-M, a move that would prove disastrous to his career. But, before I delve into that aspect of Keaton's work, a glimpse back at Keaton in his prime—a film that was probably "on the edge" when it first came out in 1922, but is far more potentially offensive now, while also deliberately taking a tack that is probably only offensive to the opposite end of the spectrum.

This is a movie that might make liberals cry, when they should be laughing. It will also make capitalists burst a blood vessel, and not from chortling. Me? I love it. It is prime Keaton, at his best and his sharpest, and with an underlying point.

The Crow Feet tribe is living an idyllic life in mountainous terrain by a lake, until the one appointed to buy a land lease is knocked over the head and the lease stolen by a lackey of the Old West Oil Company, whose boss, once the lease is in hand, orders the tribe to vacate the land in 24 hours. The Crow Feet Chief is incensed and orders the first white to enter their premises be killed.

Guess who shows up? 

Buster is wandering the nearby landscape, in rapt concentration collecting butterflies, oblivious to everything except the elusive lepidoptera, not even noticing that he has stumbled onto the Crow Feet land, or that, eventually, he is being followed by tribesmen, watching his every move. It is only when they make a concerted effort to burn him at the stake that he starts to pay attention to his circumstances—and the first of disguises and the first of chases begins.

Buster takes part in the very "war-dance" against him.

The film is only two reels—20 minutes—but it is packed with elaborate gags and amazing stunts, the majority of which are written, designed and performed by Keaton. He'd been an acrobat since a child when he performed with his parents' vaudeville act, where he'd nimbly performed the most alarming of pratfalls that some called into question the competency of his parents. His work here also provokes gasps along with laughter—I can't watch Keaton movies without the frequent use of my "Rewind" button to replay something that has made doubters of my eyes and boggled my mind. They are instantly rewarding in a way that distracts from things that, only in retrospect, might raise questions.

All the natives are white guys. Not to make any excuses here, but practically everybody in Hollywood's silent movies is a white guy—except for the women—in the vast majority of films that have survived the era. Anybody looking for authentic ethnicity of any sort in The Movies' infancy will be sorely disappointed and can rightly be accused of being blinkerdly naive if expecting it (not only that...if you're going to take it that seriously, maybe comedy...even laughter...isn't your "thing."). No, "the injuns" are stereotyped, and the production probably did not hire any ethno-sociologists as consultants. The costumes aren't authentic and the behavior and customs are probably handed down from people who hadn't been within a thousand miles of a First Person, but just something "they heard" (ya know, like how people get their news these days in order to make an informed opinion?)—the dogma of the tribe. So, yeah, this one won't be headlining the film festival at the Snoqualmie Casino any time soon.

Their loss.

**Harrumph** However...this is a case for not seeing the reservation for the trees; the stereotypes are front and center, the real message is in the story. Never mind the details, but, eventually, Buster is welcomed into the tribe, dubbed "Little Chief Paleface" (rather than, say, "Pratfalls with Wolves") and when he is told that the tribe must leave their land, his response is to fight it, saying "We indians have to stick together!" And although it sounds like a case of "Whitey Saves the Day" (as in the alluded to Dances with Wolves or Avatar), it is a group effort to stage an occupation of the oil company HQ before they do something like (oh, say) build a pipeline through their land.

As much as the tribe is stereotyped, they fare better than the white "job-creators" who are portrayed as cowardly, craven, entitled criminals who probably have great health care, which might even cover deep perforation by arrows.

So, okay, be offended by the slapped-together casting and the white guys in swarthy make-up, The Paleface has its palpitating heart in the right place, usually 30 paces ahead of a rapidly-advancing crowd of "mean-you-harms." It is ever thus in the curious and smartly charming films of Buster Keaton, fall guy.

One Week (1920)

One Week (Buster Keaton and Eddie Cline, 1920) The first film to be written, directed by and starring Joseph Frank "Buster" Keaton (after playing supporting parts for Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle's comedies and designing gags for them), the film, is itself, its own movie, a film with a decided focus to tell is story. And, yet, it is tied to another.

The Ford Motor Company put out a documentary short in 1919 entitled Home Made * which follows a young couple as they exit their wedding and start their new life. They receive the gift of a manufactured "prefabricated" home and (miracle of miracles) build it in seven days and start their life together happy in their knowledge that they're self-reliant Americans thanks to their pioneer forebears and the guidance of The Ford Motor Company.

Keaton saw the film and imagined ample opportunity for comedy. He set up One Week as a parody of Home Made complete with the wedding opening, the seven day timeline, and the couple's efforts to build the house on their own.

Then he imagined everything that could go wrong.

The Groom (Keaton) and the Bride (Sybil Seeley) emerge from the wedding chapel in a deluge of rice and shoes (one of which Buster takes with him as it's in better shape than the right one he's wearing) and go off to the waiting Model T driven by Buster's rival for the Bride's affections, Handy Mike—probably not the best plan in the world. Mike grudgingly gives Buster an envelope saying that his Uncle has given him a site of land and a prefabricated house for the young couple to live in. "Handy" Mike drives them over there, but not before, first, trying to make some moves on the new bride (whatta creep!) that manages to separate Buster from her, leaving him stranded on a motorcycle and enlisting the aid of the motorcyclist in trying to catch up and take her back.

Despite this history, the Bride and Groom arrive to find the delivery truck dropping off the last of the wood and necessary pieces (all designated by number-coding to make it so easy to construct) and driving off to leave them, still in tux and wedding dress to construct their humble home. They immediately begin work with the occasional smooch-break. But, lurking nearby, seething with jealousy is "Handy" Mike who, despite demonstrating how untrustworthy he is, is helping with the construction. Early on, he sabotages the effort by re-numbering some of the boxes that have been delivered, ensuring that things will be as "on the level" as he is.

Which is, not very.

Appearances aside, the house is semi-functional, if you don't mind that the main entrance is on the second level, entrance is via floor-level window or one of the revolving side-panels—one of which, improbably, has a sink— and that the entire house has a tendency to revolve like a merry-go-'round in a stiff breeze.

Oh. And then there's the problem with the hole in the roof that occurs with the delivery of one of the staples of silent comedies, an upright piano. One has to watch in order to explain how (and the entire movie is provided below). That event is not without its satisfactions, however.

Keaton makes good use of every nook and cranny of the house, which was built life-size, and with many hidden features that surprise and, frequently, horrify (And even titillate, as there is some unexpected nudity in the film caught by accident that managed to escape the censors, even, at the same time it makes a joke of the situation and, simultaneously breaks "the fourth wall" between film and audience—hey, every other wall in the film is subject to destruction, why not imaginary ones?) The film is filled with gag after gag and if something doesn't serve a function initially, it will pay off eventually, compounding until, finally, the couple are beset by all forces in play, whether it's the mean-spirited nature of humans or the uncaring nature of Nature. Like so many of Keaton's films, it is a demonstration of the resiliency (and literal flexibility at times) of human beings to survive the vagaries of life and endure.

That's a lot for one film to convey—even one that only has a run-time of 22 minutes. That this is Keaton's first film for his new studio (one where he had full creative control for nine years) where he was allowed to command every aspect of the film as writer, director and star, is testament to his amazing wealth of talents, which far exceeded any studio's abilities to replicate or shoe-horn into a "formula" for audiences.

It is also the only film in my memory that was envisioned as a parody of another film and has endured far past the shelf-life and memory of the one that inspired it. 

* If you are interested in seeing the film and maybe investing in building a 1919 prefabricated house that isn't "up to code," the film is still available at this web-site.