I have been reading a good biography of Buster Keaton called ‘Cut to the Chase’ by Marion Meade.
Meade’s fast-paced story has given me fresh insights into Keaton - a man who made two mistakes he spent a lifetime getting past.
Keaton is familiar to most of us today because of his famous silent film “The General”. That is probably what Keaton would most want to be remembered for. Better to forget the numerous appearances on “Truth or Consequences” or “What’s My Line.”
Honestly, not too long ago, I remembered Keaton most clearly for his role as the weird beach witch doctor character in the Annette Funichello/Frankie Avalon beach movies. Who can forget “Beach Blanket Bingo” and “How to Stuff a Wild Bikini”?
All of us, though I do wish I could have lived that fantasy.
Two different men did all of that. The first Keaton was the best one. With many short films, “The General” and “The Navigator”, Keaton became one of Hollywood's most famous and highly paid actors. Remember, Silent Era Hollywood was the undisputed capital of the film world.
This dominance was not just because of the proliferation of screens and studios, starting in Astoria, Queens, dabbling in south Florida, then fully blossoming in the then-cheap land and beautiful weather of Southern California. Hollywood silents were viewed all over the world because anyone could understand them since the only language was visual.
Keaton commanded a huge salary at the top. He earned $3,000 a week, which equates to over $50,000 in today’s dollars. A week.
In 1926, he had his own Hollywood studio, which had been financed by a friend and Keaton.
The silent years were rapidly coming to an end, however. Sound recording equipment was fabulously expensive and difficult to get. The disruption of talkies rang through far more than the careers of actors. Thousands of writers, the ones who created the intermittent cards in the silents, lost their jobs. Tens of thousands of musicians, who provided the live theater soundtracks, were thrown out of work.
Small studios began to disappear because only the mammoths could afford to survive the growth.
Keaton’s studio lost its financing in the sound wave. Against his better judgment and the advice of friends like Charlie Chaplin, Keaton closed his studio and signed on with MGM, which was run by moneymen like Irving Thalberg.
Meade has a wonderful quote about Thalberg, saying he “pissed ice water.”
This was Keaton’s first big mistake (forgetting his philandering, multiple divorces, and neglect of his children).
Keaton did not want to play by anyone’s rules but his own. MGM required nearly all of its workers to live on the studio grounds when they were working. Keaton rented an expensive house across the street on the studio’s dime.
Thalberg put a stop to that.
Keaton, one of the best stuntmen of all time, kept doing his own dangerous stunts when filming, ignoring the people who were hired to do them.
Thalberg put a stop to that.
Keaton moved onto the MGM lot. Of course, he found another playhouse soon called The Kennel.
The party really got started and Keaton gradually committed what might have been his biggest mistake of all - he crawled into the bottle and pulled the cork in after him.
The booze didn’t take long to do its dirty work. Keaton was broke and unemployed before long.
To his immense credit, Keaton kicked alcohol and made a bit of a comeback, though he was no longer one of the most famous men on Earth.
Anyone who knows failure (I certainly do) understands that Bob Dylan was spot on when he said, “You can always come back, but you can’t come back all the way.”
Few of us are an exception.
Keaton features prominently in Journey, American. He was going to be a minor character but has declared himself a major one.
Buster, I know, you can’t keep a good man down. Even Thalberg cannot put a stop to that.
A pleasure to read. Thanks Jeff