Film (1965) Reviews

• Buster Keaton visits the Twilight Zone

  wmorrow592005-08-13

  The situation is simple, so simple that no words are needed. An old man wearing a flat hat and a tattered overcoat is rushing along next to a wall in a bleak urban landscape, near a bridge. He moves hurriedly, head down, doggedly trying to hide his face from everyone he encounters. It is soon apparent that, in addition to hiding his face from passersby, the old man seems to be aware of the camera following him and is attempting to hide his face from "us," i.e. the camera lens itself. On the stairwell in his run-down apartment building he hides his face from the old lady on the stairs -- is she the landlady? -- and rushes into his apartment like a man pursued. Once he is safe in his room he makes every effort to shut out the world. He covers his mirror, removes a portrait from the wall, and recoils from anything that resembles an observing eye, including the decorative circles on the back of his rocking chair, and the circular clasps of a large manila envelope. The old man even refuses to make eye contact with his pets (a dog, a cat, a bird, and a fish) and either puts them out of the room or blocks them from view. Seated, he looks at several photographs, presumably of family members, and tears each one neatly in two, after which he nods off in the chair. As he dozes, "we" (i.e. the camera) circle around and sneak up on him, and finally get a look at his wizened face. The old man awakens, realizes that he has been seen, and reacts with horror. He covers his face with his gnarled hands. This experimental short was written by Samuel Beckett, and directed by his frequent stage collaborator Alan Schneider. The actor they cast in the lead was not their first choice for the role, but his haunting presence is a key reason why this film called "Film" is still remembered and frequently screened today: the old man is 68 year-old Buster Keaton, who at this point in his career was more commonly seen in TV commercials, variety show guest shots, and occasional movie cameos. This was not at all a typical gig for Buster, nor was it a routine project for Beckett, who was more inclined to write for the stage or radio. Beckett had wanted to work with Keaton several years earlier, when he offered him the role of Estragon in the American stage premiere of "Waiting for Godot," but Buster turned it down and the role went to Bert Lahr. It's said that Buster didn't understand "Godot" and had misgivings about this script as well, but for whatever reason he agreed to star in Beckett's first movie. It's a good thing, too, for even with his face hidden he brings dignity, comic nobility, and the weight of his personal history to the proceedings. Keaton represents his era, carrying the mantle of the battered but unbowed silent clown in this all-but-silent movie. Aside from a single sound effect (a whispered "Sh-h-h-h!") the soundtrack is entirely silent, while the grainy black-and-white stock used for filming is evocative of early cinema. What happens here is not really suggestive of Buster's own early work, but there is a beautifully characteristic sequence when the old man tries to put out his dog and then his cat, only to have each animal slip back in as he attempts to put out the other. Both Beckett and Schneider pronounced themselves more than pleased with Keaton's performance: the latter called him "magnificent." My reaction to this movie has changed with the passage of time. When I first saw it years ago I found it interesting, but also kind of exasperating; I was frustrated I couldn't see Buster's expression. Now I'm struck by the film's directness and simplicity, and recognize that even a glimpse of the old man's face along the way would kill the impact when the moment of truth finally arrives. Samuel Beckett told an interviewer that the movie was "about a man trying to escape from perception of all kinds -- from all perceivers -- even divine perceivers." In between takes on the set near the Brooklyn Bridge the lead player told a reporter something similar, summarizing the theme as "a man may keep away from everybody but he can't get away from himself." I can't say it better than that and I'm not going to try. I'll simply note that we can be grateful Buster Keaton agreed to take part in this unusual project, a seemingly unlikely collaboration that in my opinion has aged beautifully.

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• Tidbits

  matthewjbond2007-02-09

  Considering the other comments, there's little to add about the movie, but I know these few facts surrounding it. When Schneider visited Keaton to see whether he'd do the movie, Schneider found Keaton in a poker game w/ three empty chairs, which represented three of Keaton's companions--all dead, but Keaton continued to play. Keaton was mystified by this script, too, as by "Godot", but wanted the money. He suggested several comedic bits be added, because he thought the whole thing would be less than five minutes. In New York, he wanted to use one of his flat hats rather than the bowler Beckett had written in, and Beckett immediately agreed. The film was shot in mid-summer in a very hot New York, each day over 90 degrees. Keaton (age 69, and not in great health: he died less than two years later) never complained as he had to keep running along that brick wall in the heavy overcoat. It was Beckett's only visit to the U.S., and he never got outside of New York, and left the U.S. as quickly as possible.

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• Superb silent movie star with excellent director gives Beckett his due!

  arvid-kleppe2005-09-15

  This is one of the most rewarding short films I have ever seen - and I have seen many! - and it haunts me even now, more than 35 years after I saw it for the first (and only) time. That was during a cinema club season in Bergen, Norway, where part of the program was a "short film night" devoted to silent movies, short movies, and various combinations of these. The audience was clearly confused, since "Film" was obviously not what most had expected. And in company with "Nosferatu" (l922), "Freaks" (1932) and "Terminus" (1961 - a documentary of a British railway station) it did strike a very different chord than sheer horror and sober facts did. Beckett's work at that time was slowly gaining ground in Norway, as did Pinter's - trying to promote either was an uphill task in a mountainous country unused to modern drama and more tuned to sports. The discussions in a seminar after the showing proved this... But this resistance to something obviously alien did not detract from my pleasure (and several others') in relishing a masterpiece, where nothing could have been improved on. A book called "Film by Samuel Beckett" was published by Faber in 1971, and generously offers complete scenario and a profusion of illustrations and production shots. It has also comments by Beckett and an essay by Schneider, and is a useful substitute for anybody without access to the Film itself. Agreeing with other commentators, I can only say that this is really an absorbing and disturbing experience - quite unique! And one that leaves you thinking and wondering and shuddering for a long time.

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• Eyes

  ackstasis2008-11-19

  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.

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• Beckett's unique vision

  LGwriter492001-12-21

  Samuel Beckett's only film--appropriately titled Film--is a short (26 minutes) near-silent piece. Because of that, and because the work invokes the feel of the silent era, albeit in Beckett's peculiar way, it's perfectly fitting that Beckett chose Buster Keaton as the main character (for almost the entire film, the only character). The black-and-white photography, the old furniture, and the peculiar garments of the just-as-old apartment building's tenants all contribute to the mise-en-scene that harkens back to a time when automobiles had only been around for about 20 or 30 years. There's a perfect link of Beckett's intense focus on the self with Keaton's now-wizened features. When the screen is filled with Keaton's eye alone, you can see the wrinkles surrounding it; you can tell Beckett has more in mind than just doing a close-up. As Keaton arranges and rearranges the things in his sparse living quarters, and goes through pictures of himself, often hiding from the camera, you begin to see what's going on: is he, the character, only who he sees in the mirror, and in pictures, or is he other than that? For this emphasis on the solipsistic, the length of Film is perfect. Any longer and it could have been a bit tedious. But Keaton lends it a few touches of his by now archetypal humor--wholly improvised--which Beckett found delightful, and Alan Schneider, the director, applauded. This is a unique work that any serious student of film should have in her/his library. It was formerly included in a VHS collection of Keaton's work but now, alas, does not seem to be available any longer.

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