Sherlock, Jr. (1924)

Sherlock, Jr. (1924)

Directed by Buster Keaton

Story by Jean Havez, Joe Mitchell and Clyde Bruckman

Runtime: 45 min

Based on a brief glance at the title, one might expect that this review is a belated tribute to one Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes, whose birthday was ten days ago.  However, Buster Keaton’s Sherlock, Jr. has nothing to do with the classic series of detective stories—the almost-timing here is coincidence.  That said: it’s about time I finally saw a Keaton flick.  I’ve mentioned this before, but considering that I’ve seen at least one film each from Charlie Chaplin and Harold Lloyd, how could I neglect the third part of the silent comedy triumvirate?  So here we go!

In Sherlock, Jr., Keaton plays a movie projectionist who is in love with a charming girl played by Kathryn McGuire.  Keaton tries hard to win her affections, but he’s got a rival in the “local sheik” (Ward Crane), a man with a more dignified manner but far fewer scruples.  How unethical is this guy?  He steals a watch from the girl’s father (Joe Keaton) so he can pawn it off and buy the girl an expensive box of chocolate.  Then, when the father realizes his watch his missing, the sheik plants the pawn stub on poor old Buster, who then is banished from the girl’s house.  Now that’s just low.

You might be wondering, then, why on Earth this is called Sherlock, Jr.  After all, no one here works as a detective, right?  I’ll just let the opening intertitles let you in here: “There is an old proverb which says: ‘Don’t try to do two things at once and expect to do justice to both.  This is the story of a boy who tried.  While employed as a motion picture operator in a small town theater he was also studying to be a detective.”  Cut to Keaton, reading a how-to book on crime-solving while wearing a fake mustache.

Yes, Sherlock, Jr. is a film which embraces the absurd and just runs with it.  Of course a projectionist is studying to be super-sleuth; what else would he be doing?  This absurdity permeates the entire film, coming to a head in the film's second half: a film-within-a-dream-within-a-film.  Keaton falls asleep while screening a movie called Hearts and Pearls, which has a plot similar to the crime he was framed for; he then imagines that he is in the movie, playing the detective, and dealing with characters that look suspiciously like people he knows.

This dream sequence allows the movie to pile two strange types of logic on-top of each other: dream logic and movie-editing logic.  Keaton is literally able to walk down the aisle and into the scene on screen (dream logic), but then must contend with abruptly changing scenery when the picture includes a match cut (movie-editing logic).  These sequences are the film’s funniest in terms of out loud laughing.  He’s barely got a chance to catch his breath after dodging a desert train before he gets hit with an ocean wave.

Yet—perhaps appropriately for a film starring “The Great Stone Face”—most of comedy in Sherlock, Jr. does not take the form of light-hearted belly laughs.  In fact, much of the humor is used to express sorrow and despair.  The most notable example comes early in the film.  Trying to spite his romantic rival, Keaton leaves a banana peel on the floor for him to slip on.  The sheik fails to step on it, and as a frustrated Keaton storms towards him and the girl, he slips on the peels and flips over.  Did I laugh?  Yes, but that was before the gravity of the situation set in.

I could go all day, though I fear I’m making this movie sound like an exercise in film theory, i.e., a chore.  Not the case, as Sherlock, Jr. is enjoyable in the all the conventional ways, as well.  The acting from both Keaton and McGuire drips with pathos, exuding disappointment and exuberance, betrayal and shock—and stoicism, to be sure.  And the physical comedy that Keaton performs is a clinic.  You can tell that he put his all into the stunt work, and it’s a sight to behold.  (In fact, he may have tried too hard: he fractured his neck during one sequence.  And still kept going.)

But what might be most outstanding about the film is just how tight it is.  Clocking in at less than forty-five minutes—barely feature-length, even for its time—Sherlock, Jr. wastes no time in story-telling and joke-making.  I must applaud it for taking such a simple story with such a short runtime and bringing it to life with spirited performances and perfectly paced gags.  It’s such a breezy little film, yet it never feels slight.  Not a single frame feels unnecessary; every single moment counts towards something, whether its plot, comedy or character.

Overall, I’d say that Sherlock, Jr. was a fine choice for a first Keaton picture.  Okay, who the hell am I to judge that?  I still would have to see The General, Steamboat Bill, Jr., Our Hospitality, etc. for coming to that sort of conclusion. Still, considering how short the runtime is and how funny and creative the comedy is, it’s a film that I can easily recommend.  It might even make a good introduction into the world of silent movies as a whole.  Really, the only thing that could make it better would be if Sherlock Holmes were actually a character.