It couldn't have escaped the filmmakers' attention that, at the time of shooting, Buster Keaton was less than two years from death. One of Hollywood's greatest silent comedians, an everyman who captured the hearts of cinema-goers worldwide, had largely been neglected for the past thirty years, and was surviving largely through bit parts and cameo appearances in both film and television, though, to his credit, Buster always gave his all. Samuel Beckett's only screenplay, 'Film (1965),' was directed by Alan Schneider, and is a heartbreaking coda to Keaton's entertainment career, an unspeakably sad and tragic examination of one man's waining life. It's not a comedy; or, rather, it's the sort of comedy that makes you smile through tears, rather like Chaplin's 'Limelight (1952),' though substantially more experimental in style and tone. Almost entirely silent there's neither dialogue nor music 'Film' features Keaton as a poor, aging man who lives out his tired days in a battered apartment, avoiding, whenever possible, the gazes and judgement of both others and himself.
Some viewers may find it exasperating that, for the bulk of the film's 20-minute running time, the Great Stone Face keeps his face hidden from view. However, symbolically, this works to the film's favour. In his attempts to escape from the judgement of others, Keaton is even evading the prying, voyeuristic eye of the camera, which represents, not only us, but himself. At the film's end, when he falls asleep, having disarmed the inquiring eyes of even his pets and inanimate furniture, the camera sneaks surreptitiously around the room and looks directly into Keaton's grizzled, withering face, and Keaton wakes up to see --- himself! Beckett, when asked to provide a lay-man's interpretations for the film, offered the following: "It's a movie about the perceiving eye, about the perceived and the perceiver two aspects of the same man. The perceiver desires like mad to perceive and the perceived tries desperately to hide. Then, in the end, one wins." In a nutshell, 'Film' is about wanting to understand one's own life, but being afraid of what you will discover.
Watching Buster Keaton here really does remind you of what a remarkable silent comedian he once was. Even without the additional benefit of his deadpan facial expressions, his every movement is quietly humorous. Keaton ambles along the road in that characteristic shuffle of his, still sporting that signature porkpie hat, doing his utmost to keep his faced obscured from passers-by. Every so often, he pauses to check his pulse, perhaps anticipating that moment when the pain of living will pester him no more. He avoids windows; he covers up mirrors; he, in one particularly hilarious sequence (suggested by Keaton himself), tries to evict his wide-eyed pets from the apartment, only to have them trot back into the room when he's not looking. He looks at old photographs himself as a baby, as a graduating student, as a young husband, as a father but nostalgia gives way to resentment at a more recent image of his older, tired face. Keaton, as usual, underplays every action and emotion, harbouring a deep sadness beneath every gesture and movement.
Some viewers may find it exasperating that, for the bulk of the film's 20-minute running time, the Great Stone Face keeps his face hidden from view. However, symbolically, this works to the film's favour. In his attempts to escape from the judgement of others, Keaton is even evading the prying, voyeuristic eye of the camera, which represents, not only us, but himself. At the film's end, when he falls asleep, having disarmed the inquiring eyes of even his pets and inanimate furniture, the camera sneaks surreptitiously around the room and looks directly into Keaton's grizzled, withering face, and Keaton wakes up to see --- himself! Beckett, when asked to provide a lay-man's interpretations for the film, offered the following: "It's a movie about the perceiving eye, about the perceived and the perceiver two aspects of the same man. The perceiver desires like mad to perceive and the perceived tries desperately to hide. Then, in the end, one wins." In a nutshell, 'Film' is about wanting to understand one's own life, but being afraid of what you will discover.
Watching Buster Keaton here really does remind you of what a remarkable silent comedian he once was. Even without the additional benefit of his deadpan facial expressions, his every movement is quietly humorous. Keaton ambles along the road in that characteristic shuffle of his, still sporting that signature porkpie hat, doing his utmost to keep his faced obscured from passers-by. Every so often, he pauses to check his pulse, perhaps anticipating that moment when the pain of living will pester him no more. He avoids windows; he covers up mirrors; he, in one particularly hilarious sequence (suggested by Keaton himself), tries to evict his wide-eyed pets from the apartment, only to have them trot back into the room when he's not looking. He looks at old photographs himself as a baby, as a graduating student, as a young husband, as a father but nostalgia gives way to resentment at a more recent image of his older, tired face. Keaton, as usual, underplays every action and emotion, harbouring a deep sadness beneath every gesture and movement.