The Absurdists

One could just as easily call them the Surrealists or the Iconoclasts. They are simply the greatest comedy team of all time.

When I was 9, while most children were watching Bozo or the Three Stooges, I would gather the kids on my block to come with me to an art house theater and watch The Marx Brothers.

They are the bomb you wish you had to unleash at every party.

Their presence gave me hope and made me think anything was possible.

The first film to grab me from the big screen was The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao. It was a George Pal production, which meant state of the art special effects. It had the same effect on me as seeing the Jungle Cruise at age 4, I hid under the seats. What confused me was how nonchalantly people around me reacted to the epic story I saw on the screen. Shouldn't we be careful about not looking at the Gorgon, Medusa, or we would be turned to stone? Why aren't all of these people around me turning into stone? The part is magnificently played by Tony Randall.

In the end, I actually feel sorry for the Medusa, as well as Dr. Lao. They are both caught in the mythologies they've created. They cannot join us in reality. Is it enough to cause us to step into their mythos for a moment so we can learn the truth about our reality? I actually long for them to join us in our stories. They put up their show and go away. It certainly had a profound effect on me as a kid. I will never doubt the power of a story, especially one told fantastically on the silver screen. Perhaps they do stay with us.

Alas, Dr. Lao does not translate well today. One can see the make-up, claymation and ham acting. I still appreciate it.

Gigot

The first film to reach out of the TV and take a large emotional bite out of me was Gigot with Jackie Gleason, It's about an outcast (like one we would today call "homeless") who is mute and dares to protect and fall in love with a young woman (prostitute) who has a young daughter. Gigot endears himself to us with his large heart and wit. But he is never seen as a human being who is worthy of love by the people around him--except by the woman's young child.

At a young age, 8, I was struck by the unfairness, the inequity of life--and Jackie's grand performance. This is how I was introduced to him (before taking notice of his lush variety show or The Honeymooners). It also started my love affair with the silent comedians: Harpo, Chaplin, Harry Langdon, L&H, Lloyd, and my favorite, Buster. I even watched Charley Chase, Larry Semon and Ben Turpin. Buster lead me to the first "great one" Roscoe Arbuckle.

What is it about these silent clowns that they hold in common and commonly grip us? One, they can make us laugh. And Two, they can simultaneously pull at our heartstrings. We empathize and root for them. We like them and would be happy to call them our friends, though most in their world reject them.

There's several insights from this into human nature and the tricks of film-making, but this is only a blog about the love and appreciation of the classic film. Thank you oh great silent ones.

Classic vs. Modern

In the 90's, I could show kids silent films and old black and white films and at least hold their attention for 30 minutes. Now, in the new millennium, anything without computer generated effects appears irrelevant to them.

So what's the argument to be made for classic film? Story and character. However, is that enough to hold a modern audience who prefers spectacle?

Many of today's actors and actresses may be very good, but the spectacle often gets in the way for me.

Okay, here's my beef. Classic films fill me full of purpose and morality. I think that post-modern films have lost their moral compass. They are so busy being tolerant and avoiding cataclysms of epic scale, they skirt simple moral choices. Lying, cheating, stealing, even murder become gray areas that change situationally.

Alright, I'll spill it. Classic films believe in God. Modern films see God as irrelevant. That's why I so often feel modern films are outside my comfort zone.

James Stewart

Back in the '80's, my grandfather came to see my graduation at Vanguard University when it was Southern California College. He looked back at the dorms behind us and said, "I was stationed here." What? It turns out our campus was once a training ground for the United States Air Force. My grandfather was a mechanic. And among the GIs was a corp-man named James Stewart. He was fast chums with gramps. You do want your bird to hold you up in the air. I asked for some salty tidbits on one of my favorite actors. The two stories that he told me that stood out to him were the way that he would stand in lines with the rest of the GIs to get his monthly government allotment. That amused the rest of the guys because they knew he could have bought the base and not batted an eye. The other funny thing he remembered is the way Stewart's feet hung off the end of his cot. He was tall. Doggone it if the tales just don't endear you to him more.

Buster Keaton and the Gem-cutters

The beauty of Keaton's comedy is that the gags were round. What do I mean by that? They fit perfectly into the reality or sur-reality that his character lived in. Sure, in the beginning, Keaton just went for the laugh like a killer on a spree. But by the time he hit features, it was extremely important that his gags were anchored in his character's reality. A great example of this is that by the time he does Seven Chances, he's no longer wearing slap-shoes. The young man was a viable bachelor looking for a bride, not a clown looking for places to insert laughs. A great example of this is The General. All of the laughs had to be in the context of the Civil War, the train chase, and the character's recapture of his kidnapped girlfriend. It works. The laughs seem real. We can relate. Many times Keaton would say his leading ladies were only props, but in his features, they work better a fleshed out characters than any of the other great comedians features. Keaton knew how to anchor his gags in reality, not make them jagged to knock you out of it.

Buster Keaton, Part 2

Buster didn't try to tackle the industry on his own.  He took on a team of writers, actors and producers that were multi-talented like himself.  He also took over Chaplin's old studio while Chaplin went off to make features.  It was on Keaton Studios' lot that Chaplin first saw Jackie Coogan and whisked him away to play in his feature The Kid.

Keaton surrounded himself with multi-talented people like himself.  On the one hand, they wanted to sell films and make money.  On the other, they wanted to develop as professionals.  They quickly recognized that nearly every comedy was merely a high speed chase.  Chaplin, Sennet and Roach saw "Comedy as tragedy speeded up."  Keaton was astute enough to see that this would play itself out.  He decided to develop his character.

He already had a great start--the stoneface.  It had an empathetic effect on the audience in a couple of ways.  One could project whatever emotion he wanted onto the hole in the donut left by Keaton's face.  Or it made him appear the stoic, calmly taking all of the cruelties life dished out.  He was a walking posterchild for the existentialists (who all admitted a certain affinity for Keaton, along with the surrealists--and later, the absurdists).

Keaton then added to this stonefaced character something that he held in his backpocket in spades, incredible athletic skill or prowess.  Like Astaire or Kelly, he made it look like it was nothing, but few could master the moves that he did.  Nobody fell like Keaton.  There was a story in every slip or trip.  Even the pie-throwing skill:  he is arguably the best at both throwing and taking a pie because of both his athletic skill and his depth of character.

As Keaton made the jump from shorts to features, he made sure his developing character grew in dimension.  Now, if his character began with a problem or lack or need, he would undergo enough change and growth throughout the arc of the picture to develop skill to overcome by the end.  This was extremely influential on other film makers of the time and later.  For example, Buster borrows many things from the stage act and films of Houdini, but he adds his own character and character development to make his films immensely more watchable.  This is to take nothing away from Houdini.  He's a giant, with his own unique brand of films, who's shoulders Buster stands on.

Buster was aware that what he was doing was giving his films "The Keaton Touch," and when MGM took this dimension away from him and just asked him to play clowns, he had a great line for him:  "You warped my character."  The Keaton touch was gone.