Although the figure of a scarecrow may currently be more associated with a scythe-wielding nightmare, Batman villain, or lovable goofball lamenting his lack of brain, in the hands of comedy legend Buster Keaton, it proved a shortcut to pure comedic delight. One of Keaton's earliest outings as director/star (co-directed by Eddie Cline), The Scarecrow, while simpler than many of Keaton's more iconic works, still proves of the most compact, punchy, and heartfelt early silent comedy shorts available.
Running a lean 20 minutes, The Scarecrow wastes no time, careening from gag to setpiece with tight, efficient pacing, and an infectiously plucky energy. Despite its quite evident three- act structure (I: the house; II: the dog chase; III: the proposal), the film feels impressively cohesive, rather than the episodic series of gags evidenced by many of its predecessors, anchoring the madcap antics around Keaton's race to woo the woman of his dreams (Sybil Seely) before his cheery oaf of a roommate (Keaton's recurring antagonist Joe Roberts, distinctly more sympathetic here). Although noticeably sweeter than most future works by the notoriously sarcastic Keaton, there are still a few tell-tale moments of cunning snark connoting his budding authorial voice (the sly political jab "I don't care how she votes – I'm going to marry her!" being the best).
The real joy, however, is in the setpieces. The film's first act is a dazzling feat of choreography, demonstrating Keaton and Roberts orchestrating a rather unusual breakfast time in a house full of convoluted Rube Goldman muti-use items flipping, sliding, or dangling from an ingenious system of strings (an amusing satire of modernism and 'household conveniences' foreshadowing Chaplin's incisive critique of Modern Times). It isn't long before Keaton's quest for romance inevitably leads to his trademark stuntwork and tumbling, though, leaping back and forth through windows a-la Scooby Doo, precariously sprinting on top of a rickety, demolished building, and walking on his hands across a river to avoid his outfit – pilfered from a scarecrow after his previous clothes were destroyed in a thresher – from getting wet, only to inevitably fall back into the river on his dismount. The sight of Keaton slumping to impersonate a scarecrow is a pristine feat of physical comedy by itself, and the film's climax – an almost accidental motorcycle marriage – recalls the madcap conclusion of Some Like It Hot in terms of the most perfectly hilarious wrap-up imaginable.
Keaton would continue to push the envelope in juxtaposing budding romance with disastrous physical mayhem throughout his oeuvre, but for a quick, compact dose of Buster Keaton at his sweetest and most imaginatively zany, it's hard to imagine a more satisfactory viewing experience than The Scarecrow.
-9/10
Running a lean 20 minutes, The Scarecrow wastes no time, careening from gag to setpiece with tight, efficient pacing, and an infectiously plucky energy. Despite its quite evident three- act structure (I: the house; II: the dog chase; III: the proposal), the film feels impressively cohesive, rather than the episodic series of gags evidenced by many of its predecessors, anchoring the madcap antics around Keaton's race to woo the woman of his dreams (Sybil Seely) before his cheery oaf of a roommate (Keaton's recurring antagonist Joe Roberts, distinctly more sympathetic here). Although noticeably sweeter than most future works by the notoriously sarcastic Keaton, there are still a few tell-tale moments of cunning snark connoting his budding authorial voice (the sly political jab "I don't care how she votes – I'm going to marry her!" being the best).
The real joy, however, is in the setpieces. The film's first act is a dazzling feat of choreography, demonstrating Keaton and Roberts orchestrating a rather unusual breakfast time in a house full of convoluted Rube Goldman muti-use items flipping, sliding, or dangling from an ingenious system of strings (an amusing satire of modernism and 'household conveniences' foreshadowing Chaplin's incisive critique of Modern Times). It isn't long before Keaton's quest for romance inevitably leads to his trademark stuntwork and tumbling, though, leaping back and forth through windows a-la Scooby Doo, precariously sprinting on top of a rickety, demolished building, and walking on his hands across a river to avoid his outfit – pilfered from a scarecrow after his previous clothes were destroyed in a thresher – from getting wet, only to inevitably fall back into the river on his dismount. The sight of Keaton slumping to impersonate a scarecrow is a pristine feat of physical comedy by itself, and the film's climax – an almost accidental motorcycle marriage – recalls the madcap conclusion of Some Like It Hot in terms of the most perfectly hilarious wrap-up imaginable.
Keaton would continue to push the envelope in juxtaposing budding romance with disastrous physical mayhem throughout his oeuvre, but for a quick, compact dose of Buster Keaton at his sweetest and most imaginatively zany, it's hard to imagine a more satisfactory viewing experience than The Scarecrow.
-9/10