Dan Navarro's Movie Reviews

Joseph Francis Keaton Jr.—known as "Buster" Keaton from childhood on—became one of the master comedians of the silent screen. His early apprenticeship alongside Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle in a dozen early short films brought him enough acclaim that he was able to launch his own solo career, in 1920, with a brilliant 19-minute short, One Week. Three years later he began making feature-length comedies; and in only his second feature, Our Hospitality (1923), he established himself as one of the giants of the silver screen.

His friendly rival, Charlie Chaplin, had already made a feature that successfully blended tragedy and comedy, in The Kid (1921). With Our Hospitality, Keaton matched that effort by recalling the Hatfield-McCoy blood-feud of the old South... and mixing in, however improbably, some inspired hilarity.

Keaton, who starred and co-directed (with John G. Blystone), reached back into early American history to tell this tale. The first ten minutes of the film hint not at all of comedy. The year is 1810, and we can see the seething hatreds between the two clans, here named the Canfields and the McKays. On a dark, rainy night, a Canfield and a McKay shoot each other to death. The only McKay left is an infant, Willie McKay (played in the film by Buster's own son, Buster Jr.). His grief-stricken mother immediately makes plans to take her baby north to New York City, there to live with her sister and raise the child in safety.

Twenty years go by, and Willie McKay (Buster Keaton), having been raised by his aunt, is a young New Yorker, newly advised by the family lawyer that he is the sole heir to the McKay estate. Willie wants to go South to claim his property, but his aunt is wary. She explains to him about the feud, and how there might be some Canfields still in the area, and Willie may wind up as a target for their vengeance.

Willie decides to chance the trip anyway.

Now Keaton gets the comedy into gear. His transportation to the old family home is an ancient railroad train, "The Stephenson Rocket." Keaton had a replica of the train constructed for this film, and when we see the course it must navigate through the Blue Ridge Mountains, we can understand why this must have been funny to modern audiences... even if "modern" meant 1923.

The train is laughably primitive, moving not much faster than most humans can walk. The trip is arduous and bumpy and the cars are wide open, leaving the passengers prey to rainfall, black smoke from the tunnels, and missiles fired by the occasional hooligans along the route.

Willie's co-passenger is a young woman named Virginia (Natalie Talmadge), and during the long ride they strike up a friendship and maybe a little bit more. By the time they arrive at their destination, she feels charmed enough by Willie's fine manners to invite him to supper at her family's home that evening.

And no, you get no points for guessing that Virginia is a Canfield. She is, but she's ignorant of the long and bitter history of the Canfield-McKay feud. Now she has invited the last remnant of the McKay clan to supper, and we sense that Willie is going to be unwittingly stepping into a trap. But, since "Willie" is really Buster Keaton, can he find a way to avoid getting shot? Stay tuned.

The title of the film refers to the Code of the Old South—in this case, you can't kill a man while he is a guest in your house. (Wait until he goes outside.) Virginia's father, Joseph Canfield (Joe Roberts) and her two brothers are well aware that they are expected to kill Willie McKay, because—oh, just because. They await their chance, but Willie is on to them, and finds a way to escape their wrath in numerous situations. On one occasion, he dresses a horse to look like him—yes, a horse!—in an effort to draw their fire.

Keaton's genius for sight gags reaches its zenith, for this film at least, when he is perched on a precipitous ledge halfway up a stone mountain. A Canfield stands atop the cliff, ties a rope around his waist, then throws down the other end to Willie, telling him to tie it to himself. Willie does so, but then looks up and sees the face of his enemy... and elects not to climb the rope to certain death. Instead, he steps back onto the ledge, inadvertently yanking the rope, and then watches as the taut rope becomes loose and begins to slither downward. We instantly realize that he has pulled his enemy off the top of the cliff, and the man is hurtling down to the river below. A fraction of a second later, we see a blur as the Canfield passes Willie on the way down. The loose rope becomes taut again, and now Willie is pulled into the river depths.

Another film maker would have shown the man being pulled off the cliff, shown his descent and Willie's reaction in separate shots, and the scene would have been unfunny. Keaton lets us see, instead, the slackening rope, and leaves it to us to decide what is happening.

There is a justly celebrated shot later in Our Hospitality when Virginia, torn between her love of family and her deepening love for Willie, takes off after him in a rowboat, braving the river rapids. Her boat capsizes and now Virginia is being pulled by the current toward the edge of a lethal waterfall. Willie, still tied to that rope, positions it between two rocks, times his move perfectly, and swings over the waterfall, grabbing Virginia's waist just before she would have fallen to her death. Miss Talmadge certainly had a double for that shot—it was a life-sized rag doll—but Keaton performed the stunt himself. Not for nothing was he nicknamed "Buster."

After all the derring-do, Keaton sets up a final scene that is brilliant, climactic, and brings a hearty laugh. A second later, though, in the tradition of the best silent comedies, Keaton "tops" the gag with an even better one.

Our Hospitality is available on DVD, on a single-disc set or as part of "The Art of Buster Keaton," a compilation of some of his best films.