Before I Die #607: Steamboat Bill, Jr. (1928)

This is the 607th movie I've seen out of the 1,187 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm working my way through.

Directors: Charles Reisner, Buster Keaton

A solid Keaton flick, with some of his more memorable set piece stunts, though it doesn't top my two other favorite Keaton movies.

The setup and story are not wildly innovative for silent era comedies: the only son of a crusty old steamboat captain, William Canfield, Jr. (Keaton) returns home from college to see his father for the first time in many, many years. Much to his burly, working-class father's chagrin, Junior is a diminutive dandy, looking wildly different from his old man in both his tiny frame and his foppish style. Senior attempts to teach junior his trade, with little success. This creates bigger problems since their family business - their steamboat - is about to be put out of business by a brand new, larger, and more luxurious steam liner that has just moved into their river town. The rivalry with this other company is put on hold, though, when a massive storm blows through the town, endangering everyone in it. Junior, despite his many goofs up to this point, manages to save his father and several other prominent people in the town.

"Old Stoneface" Keaton's remarkable skills as a
physical comedian are on display throughout the
film, but perhaps never moreso than as he
fumbles his way around the steamships.

As with any Keaton flick, the story is hardly what matters here. It's all about the visual stunts and gags, and this film has plenty of them. The most notable is the grande finale windstorm, when entire buildings are literally crumbling around Keaton's character, as he dodges the debris coming at him from all directions. Although there were some impressive stunts in this very long sequence, I was actually more amused by a few of the simpler physical gags. What's always impressed me about Keaton were his uncanny agility and grace, and the massive eyes on his hilariously deadpan face. In this movie, there is more than one moment where he'll take a spill that could seriously cripple him, somehow catch himself, and never once change his facial expression. It dawned on me that he truly is the original Jackie Chan, in terms of putting his safety at risk for the sake of a movie. Only I find his impassive non-reactions far funnier than Chan's highly expressive face.

I've now seen about a half dozen of Keaton's movies, and my two favorites are still Our Hospitality and The General. Steamboat Bill, Jr. may have the more memorable final act in the eyes of historians, and it may have inspired the very first Mickey Mouse cartoon, but it wasn't quite as entertaining as those earlier movies of his.

That's 607 movies down. Only 580 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #604: The Kid Brother (1927)

This is the 604th movie that I've now watched out of the 1,187 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Harold Lloyd

Mildly amusing slapstick farce from the tail-end of the silent film era. I didn't find it nearly as entertaining as most of the Buster Keaton silent comedies I've seen, though.

Typical of silent film-era comedies, the plot is hardly worth considering, even if a tad more complex that its peers: in the small town of Hickoryville in the western U.S., a traveling medicine show rolls into town. However, the town's most prominent family, the Hickories, are composed of a patriarchal sheriff and his eldest two deputy sons who despise such shows. When the youngest and by far most bungling Hickory boy, Harold (Harold Lloyd), accidentally grants the medicine show permission to perform in the town, two of the show's dastardly members take to conning and robbing the town of its funds to build a new, much-needed dam. Though quirky and diminutive Harold is not the physically-powerful type that his father and brothers are, he uses his craftiness and cunning to track down, outsmart, and eventually capture the pair of thieves in their hideout in an abandoned, sunken ship.

Similar to the films of Chaplin and Keaton, The Kid Brother is heavy on using its mostly deadpan star pulling off a variety of physical gags, often using the environment around him to deceive his various enemies. There are a decent number of amusing visual jokes, though they are geared more around the character Harold's knack for mechanical ingenuity rather than his own physical prowess. This is mostly why I found that I preferred Keaton's films - not only was the great "Stone Face" a much deader deadpan, but the diminutive gymnast's physical strength, agility, and timing have always set him far apart in my eyes. Lloyd's approach was different and respectable, but it simply didn't grab me the way Keaton always has.

I will say that I enjoyed how the story shifted to a rather fantastic setting for its final sequences. The set piece of the tilted, semi-sunken ship made for a great location for the showdown between Harold and the two villainous thieves. Though the pursuit and cat-and-mouse game felt a bit drawn out by its end, it was still one of the most unique segments I've seen in silent era comedies.

I'm glad that I finally saw a film by Lloyd, and I can see why he has often been mentioned in the same breath as Chaplin and Keaton. I must say, though, that while I will continue to take in Keaton's movies and enjoy them, I don't really feel the desire to seek out any more of Lloyd.

That's 604 movies down; only 583 to go before I can die.

Before I Die #597: The General (1927)

This is the 597th movie I've now seen out of the 1,187 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Johnny Gray attempts to learn the art of war on the fly. The
movie uses some visual gags that you can see coming from a
mile away, but most of them are pleasantly clever and
unforeseeable, with crisp timing.

Directors: Clyde Bruckman and Buster Keaton

Another fun Buster Keaton picture, featuring some sequences, stunts, and gags that are quite amazing, given the time that they were performed and captured on film.

The story has Buster Keaton playing Johnny Gray, a locomotive engineer based in Georgia just at the start of the Civil War. He tries to enlist as a soldier, at the behest of his lady-love Annabelle Lee, but is refused on account of the officers think his value lies in his being a train engineer. A dejected Gray is then rebuffed by Annabelle, who is only interested in a man who will fight for the Confederacy. Gray is soon unexpectedly drawn in to the fight, however, when his beloved train The General is stolen by Union spies and taken towards the  north. Gray pursues them and, through a variety of ploys, tricks, and stunts, reclaims his train and, coincidentally, Annabelle.

As with all of the other handful of Keaton movies I've seen, the plot and characters are almost totally forgettable. Keaton movies are almost purely about the visual gags, with any storyline or character conflict merely serving to set up the sight jokes. While this can often lead to dull films, Keaton was the absolute master, and I find him highly watchable. His eye for visual gags was one thing, but it was his athletic grace, agility, and timing that made so many of those gags effective. While you can occasionally see some of the jokes coming from a mile away, there are plenty of them that derive their comedic power from their unpredictability. Others are so quick and so well-executed that they're just as funny now as they ever were.

In terms of the larger cinematic landscape, the most historically impressive aspect of the movie is the scale. For a comedy, the sets, props, and orchestration of the film are incredible for its time. Large sections of the movie involve trains moving along railroad tracks, with Keaton's Gray character involved with countless variations of gags that rely on the movement and spacing between two or more locomotives, often in geometrically challenging arrangements. All of these things were done with real trains on real railroad tracks, chugging along and through real landscapes. I haven't seen another comedy from that era that incorporated such large and impressive set pieces. Since I've been watching quite a few silent movies from this era lately, The General stood out as visually impressive in this way.

That's 597 movies down. Only 590 to go before I can die. 

Before I Die #590: Seven Chances (1925)

This is the 590th movie I've seen of the 1,187 films on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Buster Keaton

Decent Buster Keaton flick, with some of his great visual gags, but it doesn't top one or two others I've seen.

Like the other handful of Keaton movies I've seen, this one uses a simple premise to set off all sorts of pratfalls, culminating in a sequence that goes on far to long for my modern sensibilities. Keaton plays James Shannon, a young lawyer who is part of a law firm that is near financial and professional ruin, thanks to the missteps and malfeasance of his shady partner. A ray of hope emerges, though, when Shannon receives a telegram that a wealthy uncle has died and left him an inheritance of seven million dollars. However, to receive the money, Shannon must be married by a pre-determined date - a date which happens to be the very same day that Shannon receives the message. This sends Shannon and his partner scrambling to find a bride for the potentially-new millionaire, with only a few hours to do it. Shannon first goes to his lady love to propose, but a series of misunderstandings leads her to shun him. He then grows more and more desperate with every passing hour, trying everything he can think of to convince some young woman to marry him that day.

As with the other Keaton movies I've seen, the story is hardly the point. It merely exists to set up humorous sequences and exchanges, and Keaton certainly delivers much of the time. I've always liked Keaton more than Chaplin, as I've found his deadpan look and amazing physical abilities more entertaining than the Little Tramp. Seven Chances features some great visual gags, to be sure. But I found that it was almost always the smaller, subtler ones that were the best. Shannon and his partner departing from an unnoticed second office door just after a messenger has determined to watch the primary door like a hawk. Keaton's amazingly agile about-faces when he confronts someone or something he hopes to evade. My appreciation of Keaton has always been just how watchable he is even when seemingly minor things are happening on screen.

One of the best-known images of the legendary chase scene.
This whole thing goes on for far too long, in my opinion. Then
again, I've never found chases very funny.

But the problem is that the movie features too many "big" gags, which I found overly long and not terribly interesting. The most obvious is also the one for which the film is most famous - the grand chase finale. The way the story shakes out, Shannon's business partner puts out an ad in the daily newspaper telling everyone about the inheritance and inviting any willing woman to show up at the church later that day. Of course, thousands of women show, sending Shannon on the run from hordes of cash-hungry single ladies (your Beyonce joke here). This grows into a 15-minute long chase throughout the entire town. While there are one or two funny sight gags mixed in, I found the extended chase more and more boring with every passing minute. Keaton does his best to utilize his considerable acrobatic and gymnatic skills, but the chase was more about the set pieces, props, and the hordes of women chasing after him. I simply didn't find these things as funny.

Of the handful of Keaton movies I've seen, this one falls behind Our Hospitality or even Sherlock Jr. It's definitely worth seeing for fans of Keaton or old-school silent film comedies, but don't be surprised if you zone out a bit during some of the the more prolonged sequences.

That's 590 movies down. Only 597 films to watch before I can die.

Film #10: It's A Gift (1934)

Director: Norman Z. McLeod

Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: none

The Story:

Harold Bissonette (pronounces "Bis-oh-nay"), a mumbling, bumbling goofball of a man inherits some cash and seemingly wastes it by buying his lifelong dream: an orange orchard. Much to his wife's dismay, he sells their grocery store in New Jersey, packs up the family and heads to California. Upon arrival, they discover that the hoped-for splendor of an orchard is a complete dust bowl. Just when it all seems to be lost, Bissonette is offered a true orchard and tons of cash for the property, so that some prospectors can build a grandstand for a race track. All's well that ends well.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (done after one viewing & before any research):

I enjoyed the movie for giving me a few really good laughs, but overall I don't love it.

I love W.C. Fields for probably the same reason that everybody has loved and still does love him - he's a character. He never had the wit of Groucho Marx, the pure physical abilities of Charlie Chaplin or Buster Keaton, and he was never in movies that told interesting tales. Still, there was no one at all like him: a half-clueless, drunken clown who spent half of his movies insulting those around him under his breath, while refusing to notice his own total ineptitude.

It's a Gift is pretty forgettable, story-wise. As with the other Fields films I've seen, the plot serves purely as a vehicle for Fields to do his thing - getting verbally and physically abused for his buffoonery and staring back at the world from between those narrow slits of eyes as if to say, "All of you are mad. Leave me out of all this."

When I try to pin down what it is that makes Fields so damn funny, I think of the reason my Dad gave me years ago: it's the under-the-breath comments. Dad's right. It's that and, like Buster Keaton, the downright refusal to so much as crack a smile.

One of the earliest scenes of Field's goofy interactions with his family. A still photo does him small justice - you've got to see him in action to witness his genius physical comedy.

The way he gets continually badgered by the people and world around him is all just the foil for his responses. In truth, a lot of the scenarios do become quite tiresome and annoying. In a handful of them, there's a good payoff, with Fields delivering a really snarky line. Other times, they fall flat.

Basically, Fields was something like the Will Farrell of his day. Not that they play the same character - but both men continually play singular characters of their own design. Farrell is always a semi-clueless, hyperactive gorilla; Fields was always a semi-clueless, lazy tippler. Neither man made a career of being in thoughtfully plotted films, but I laugh at them, all the same. Maybe not at all of their jokes, but enough to keep me coming back.

Take 2; or, Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (done after some research):

There's not much research to be done on this one. TIME Magazine didn't even do an original review for it back in 1934. The one thing that critics of past and present point to is what strikes everyone about W.C. Fields films, and that's W.C. Fields. It's funny to notice that no analysis of the film gives more than a line or two about the story, or anything else, aside from Fields. This is as it should be. All reviewers point to Fields' singularly misanthropic, yet lovable and engaging, character. It's a Gift, by most accounts, had the greatest number of solid gags in it. It's put quite well in the one paragraph here on the TIME website.

The other things worth mentioning are (surprise, surprise) about Fields himself. Born William Claude Dukenfield (quite a handle, that), the young Fields would become a world-class juggler and vaudevillian. By all accounts, he never drank as a young man, so that he could maintain the dexterity needed for his craft. However, the other performers drank like fish. Fields enjoyed their company, so had booze on hand for them. Eventually, he took to the sauce as well. Like it was his job. It's interesting to me that a highly social, phenomenally agile performer would make his name playing a hilarious, person-hating sot. Oh, the irony.

A scene from the end, just before Fields delivers one of his most famous (and often ripped-off) lines:
Bosterly: You're drunk!
Bissonette (Fields): And you're crazy. But I'll be sober tomorrow and you'll be crazy the rest of your life.

That's a wrap. 10 shows down. 95 to go.

Coming Soon: The Bride of Frankenstein (1935):

That's right- the sequel to the original. I just reread the Mary Shelley novel to boot, so I'll have some more literate thoughts to add to this one. Cinephiles & bibliophiles unite!!
Please pick up all empties on the way towards the exits.

Film #7: City Lights (1931)

Director: Charlie Chaplin

Times Previously Viewed: 1 (about 10 years ago)

The Story (in which I unabashedly spoil the hell out of the movie for you. Fair warning):

A waddling little transient wanders around a city (London, maybe?) and meets a poor, blind flower girl. Immediately smitten, he determines to make enough money to pay for an operation that will restore her sight, while she believes him to be a well-to-do gentleman caller. He bounces around the town from job to job, including street sweeper and prize fighter. He mostly cruises through a seesaw friendship with a sometimes-drunken, sometimes-sober rich fellow, who loves the tramp when besotted and discards him when sober.

In the end, the little guy scrapes together the dough he needs, passes it on to the flower girl, and, through a mix-up, is sent to jail for the better part of a year. Once released, in straits more dire than ever, he finds the flower girl hale and hearty, sight restored and managing her own upscale flower shop. All the while, she has been waiting for the return of her mysterious benefactor, assuming that he was a wealthy Samaritan. When she sees and understands that her true champion was and still is penniless, she accepts him all the same.

Take 1. My Gut Reaction (done after 1 viewing, before any research):

Eh. Buster Keaton's way better. I know Chaplin's place and all, but Keaton kicked his ass. I certainly don't hate Chaplin or his movies, but City Lights, like the other films of his that I've seen, is flat by my standards. It's not hard to recognize the cleverness and choreography that goes into a lot of the gags. Probably the best-known in this film is the boxing match when the little tramp is almost out of ideas and takes an offer to fight for the cash he needs to help his blind lady-love. Here it is:


Pretty nifty, and the gags with the bell ringing are actually pretty good. The problem was that most of the scene got a bit monotonous for me, almost to the point that I wanted the guy in the white trunks to punch the tramp's head off of his body and see the credits roll. OK, maybe it wasn't that monotonous, but the only part during this sequence that made me laugh was the bell-ringing gag (after the 3:45 mark in the above clip), and this was one of only about three moments in the whole film that elicited so much as a chuckle out of me.

Why so few laughs? I think one part of it had to do with being able to see a lot of the visual jokes coming from a mile away. Maybe they were fresh back then and have been imitated so often that I could anticipate them. Whatever the reason, part of the comedy of such things is that they catch you off-guard. Very few things in this movie caught me off-guard or offered pleasant surprises. Sure, they took wit to envision and skill to execute, but so does synchronized swimming, and I don't want to watch that, either.

Probably the other aspect that was lukewarm to me was the story. It's pretty sappy, when you get right down to it. Sure, it's sweet (I'm not totally without a heart), but come on. A poor, pretty, blind flower girl?! Man, that's just unimaginative. Why not just bring out a little kid with polio and on crutches while you're at it?

And yet, there was a moment at the end when I was actually intrigued as to what would happen. (The clip below shows you the well-known end of the film). Keep in mind that the girl has just had her sight restored, thanks to the tramp's love and hard work, and he's just gotten out of the clink after serving several months due to a mix-up related to his getting the money. When she grabs his hand, the look that passes between them is actually the greatest thing in the film, and actually choked me up:

So yeah, Chaplin actually got me on that one, the bastard. Still, we're almost left to wonder, what happens next? It seems to me that she accepts him and that things will work out for the better. And to me, that ending equals a missed opportunity. At the risk of being a Monday morning quarterback, I felt that the story would have been exponentially more powerful if the tramp had simply seen her, taken joy from her restored sight, and then walked away. This would have been an act of pure, selfless love on an almost mythical level. Had it ended this way, I would probably still be crying right now, and would have loved the film all the more for it.

In the end, it's a film that has a few good moments, but one that left me wanting to re-watch Buster Keaton's Our Hospitality. Keaton's gags were funnier, he actually did impressive stunts, I find his demeanor far funnier than Chaplin's wiggling, waddling gait, and he steered clear of the cheap sentimentality that Chaplin employed. Both played characters who were somewhat clueless in their films, but Keaton seemed to have more gumption.

I doubt that I'll go out of my way to watch any more Chaplin movies. I can see why he was big in his day, but he doesn't provide the laughs I need in my comedies. Sorry, Charlie. (Couldn't resist that one. Apologies.)

Take 2. Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (done after some research on the film):

The bonus disc with City Lights is a bit weak. It has some general commentary on the film's place in history and its merits, and there's a pretty good little piece by Peter Lord (producer of Wallace & Gromit, Chicken Run, et al). The rest is just outtakes, behind-the-scenes footage and other random tidbits. Here's what struck me from it:

In seeing some of the scenes again, I found that I liked some of them a bit more. The boxing scene actually had a bit more charm, and some of Chaplin's delicacy didn't grate on me as much. Lord did make a direct comparison between Chaplin and Buster Keaton, pointing out how Keaton never tried to deal with love the way Chaplin did. I see his point, but I still like Keaton better. While Chaplin does have a certain warming, disarming charm, I think I prefer the straight comedy of Keaton.

The final scene. By all accounts, this is what makes this film an absolute classic. They show it again several times on the extra DVD and its still touching. Even Chaplin, much later in life, maintained that it was the best, most touching piece of acting he had ever constructed and executed. Agreed.

One final note. This film was released when the spoken film era had, in a mere four years, completely killed the silent film, in effect. It simply wasn't being done anymore. And yet, Chaplin scored a massive hit with City Lights (here's the original TIME magazine review from 1931). He felt that his little tramp character, who was already known and loved throughout the world, would alienate his non-English speaking audience by speaking in English. Being an English teacher, I find this exceptionally genius.

Even though I don't love the film myself, I think its success and endurance are phenomenal, and a testament to Chaplin's ability as a visual storyteller who knew how to connect with his audience. It's also a very fitting film to end the silent segment of the ALL-TIME 100 list.

That's a wrap. 7 films down, 98 to go.

Coming Soon: King Kong (1933):

What better way to transition from the silent films to the talkies than by going from Chaplin's adorable little English vagrant to a 60-foot high, rampaging gorilla?

Hail to the King, baby.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #1: Sherlock, Jr. (1924)

A Few Thoughts on Silent Film. I'm not a fanatic for silent movies, but they hold a place in my heart. Film school students and historians point to the innovations made by filmmakers from the early 20th century and appreciate them for their technical merits. Most of us, however, don't. Most of us, myself included, mainly want entertainment. And, let's face it, we are now a culture of endless stimuli. The simple combination of visuals and music doesn't quite cut it. The thing that we forget is that film gains most of its power from visuals. The other elements: dialogue, narration, and music, were elements of literature and theater, and simply enhance the visual story being told in films. Before Al Jolson broke the "sound barrier" with The Jazz Singer in 1929, films were all about visual storytelling. Once dialogue was made possible, the gradual de-emphasis on visuals began. These days, the art of telling the story without the aid of words is all but lost. A few major filmmakers of the present and recent past still show this skill. Sergio Leone was a great, Quentin Tarantino is quite an adept, and the Coen Brothers are true masters of it. In a way, the total reliance on facial expressions, body language, prop positioning, camera shots & angles, and choreography to tell the story is pure cinema. With this in mind, let's have a look at one of the earliest icons of silent film:



Times Previously Viewed: 1 (about 10 years ago)

My Thoughts
At 45 minutes, Sherlock, Jr. is not much of a time commitment, and I enjoyed it. As with most silent films, the story is simple: a young projection operator (Keaton) has daydreams of being a world-class detective. Most of the film is given over to an extended fantasy that he has while he falls asleep in the projection booth. He dreams himself into the middle of a case of stolen pearls, outwits the bad guys through a combination of luck and skill, and makes many a narrow escape throughout.

Basically, Buster Keaton was awesome. He seemed to understand, even back then, a universal truth about physical and silly humor - the goofier you're going to be, the straighter you have to play it. Throughout every gag, both obvious and subtle alike, he maintains a stone deadpan that makes for the perfect counterpart to his casual agility, grace and athleticism. This "stone-face" approach still lives today: think very early Woody Allen, Leslie Nielsen in the Airplane and Naked Gun movies, or Ricky Gervais. The thing that makes those bits funny is that the guys pulling them act as if absolutely nothing's amiss. Keaton was way ahead of the curve on this one. I had more than one honest-to-goodness laugh during this short flick.

The diminutive Keaton did all of his own stunts, some of which are pretty astounding when you keep in mind the time period. Here's a montage of some of the hits. Keaton severely fractured his neck doing the one from the train at the beginning. Unfortunately, a few of my favorites were left out (the best bits start at about 5:00 into the video):


Overall, it was a fun watch. Had it been longer, I may have grown a bit tired of the simplicity of the plot and the way that everything is manipulated towards the stunts. As it was, however, I enjoyed it. I may not watch it again any time soon, but it's a great introduction to someone looking for one of the great silent films. I actually think a young kid would still really love this one, too. I mean, what young'un doesn't want to see a goofy little guy nearly getting shot, punched out, run over by trains, and hurled off of motorcycles? Not this one!

Why Film Geeks Love This Film

The answer, like the stories of Keaton's films, is simple: pretty much the same reason the common person liked it - the visual gags and the impeccable orchestration of the stunts. Also, the scene in which Keaton "jumps" into a rolling movie on a projection screen was seen as a major innovation (it's in the middle of the posted visual clip). By today's special effects standards, it seems grossly outdated. At the time, however, it was quite the eye-opener. Here's the complete review by one of the list compilers.

Side Note

On the same DVD as Sherlock, Jr. was an earlier Keaton flick, Our Hospitality (1923). This one was longer, but I actually liked it more. The sight gags were even better, and the story cleverly wove together disparate plot elements, a la the very best episodes of Seinfeld.

Coming Soon...Film # 2 on the list: Metropolis (1927)

This one is considered one of, if not the first great cinematic science fiction masterpiece. Come back in a few days to see what I think of the unblinking stare of that metal chick in the poster. She's going to keep looking at and thinking about you until you come back. Sleep tight.