The sun bounces into the sky like a rubber ballan appropriate opening image for a short comedy fairly bursting with youthful energy and high spirits. Buster Keaton was barely twenty-five when he made this film, but he had twenty years of experience in physical comedy, and in the new-found joy of directing and starring in his own films, he bubbled with inspiration. While the freewheeling, episodic structure of The Scarecrow recalls the films Buster was making just a year before with Roscoe Arbuckle, there are many distinctive Keaton touches and an overall atmosphere of innocent freshness. Though not as perfect as his debut, One Week, it's a good introduction to Keaton's early work. If you're already sweet on Buster, I warn youthis may push you over the edge into full-fledged adoration.
Buster works on a farm (at least we assume sohe doesn't do any work in the movie) and shares a one-room house with Big Joe Roberts. Usually cast as a monstrous villain, Big Joe gets a rare chance to show his charm here. He's twice Buster's size, but the two live in harmony, their house rigged with labor-saving gadgets. The bed folds up into a piano, the gramophone becomes a stove, the bathtub empties itself and turns into a settee. Salt and pepper shakers dangle from the ceiling on strings, so Buster and his roommate can pass them back and forth in graceful arcs. To wash the dishes, the men attach them to the table, hoist it onto the wall, and spray it with a hose. This whole opening sequence is played with a smooth, brisk pacing and casual grace. Slapstick comedy is usually based on things going wrong, but this scene shows us everything going beautifully right, and still manages to inspire laughter.
The harmony between the two men is shattered by the arrival of the farmer's pretty daughter, for whose affection they compete. This was the third film Buster made with Sybil Seely, the most charming leading lady he ever had. A former Mack Sennett bathing girl, Sybil was a dark Italian beauty with a natural, fun-loving air. It's a mystery, and shame, that he stopped using her after The Scarecrow. Here she gets some nice moments of her own, as in her impromptu dance in front of a haystack. The film zips along from one sequence to the next, with Buster being chased by a "mad" dog (Roscoe Arbuckle's bull terrier, Luke, in a cameo), then getting sucked into a harvesting machine that rips his clothes off. Running in his underwear from the irate farmer, Buster puts on a scarecrow's suit, and displays his uncanny gift for physical mimicry as he adopts the scarecrow's floppy pose.
One shoe comes off as he runs, and when he kneels down to put it on, Sybil happens to walk up and blushingly accepts his proposal. As they're eloping on a stolen motorbike and sidecar, they accidentally scoop up a passing parson, who winds up sitting in Sybil's lap. Buster looks at the man, glances at the sky to see if it's hailing clergymen, and then asks the parson to marry them. Agreeing matter-of-factly, he takes out his bible and starts the wedding ceremony while they zip along, unflustered even when they tumble into a creek. The only problem with this film is that it's over too soon. The solution is to watch it again.
Buster works on a farm (at least we assume sohe doesn't do any work in the movie) and shares a one-room house with Big Joe Roberts. Usually cast as a monstrous villain, Big Joe gets a rare chance to show his charm here. He's twice Buster's size, but the two live in harmony, their house rigged with labor-saving gadgets. The bed folds up into a piano, the gramophone becomes a stove, the bathtub empties itself and turns into a settee. Salt and pepper shakers dangle from the ceiling on strings, so Buster and his roommate can pass them back and forth in graceful arcs. To wash the dishes, the men attach them to the table, hoist it onto the wall, and spray it with a hose. This whole opening sequence is played with a smooth, brisk pacing and casual grace. Slapstick comedy is usually based on things going wrong, but this scene shows us everything going beautifully right, and still manages to inspire laughter.
The harmony between the two men is shattered by the arrival of the farmer's pretty daughter, for whose affection they compete. This was the third film Buster made with Sybil Seely, the most charming leading lady he ever had. A former Mack Sennett bathing girl, Sybil was a dark Italian beauty with a natural, fun-loving air. It's a mystery, and shame, that he stopped using her after The Scarecrow. Here she gets some nice moments of her own, as in her impromptu dance in front of a haystack. The film zips along from one sequence to the next, with Buster being chased by a "mad" dog (Roscoe Arbuckle's bull terrier, Luke, in a cameo), then getting sucked into a harvesting machine that rips his clothes off. Running in his underwear from the irate farmer, Buster puts on a scarecrow's suit, and displays his uncanny gift for physical mimicry as he adopts the scarecrow's floppy pose.
One shoe comes off as he runs, and when he kneels down to put it on, Sybil happens to walk up and blushingly accepts his proposal. As they're eloping on a stolen motorbike and sidecar, they accidentally scoop up a passing parson, who winds up sitting in Sybil's lap. Buster looks at the man, glances at the sky to see if it's hailing clergymen, and then asks the parson to marry them. Agreeing matter-of-factly, he takes out his bible and starts the wedding ceremony while they zip along, unflustered even when they tumble into a creek. The only problem with this film is that it's over too soon. The solution is to watch it again.