Funny Faces on the Films - part 4 (b); The Final Thrashings

by Geoff Collins

This time we've finally reached the end of our look at the weird or wonderful comedy people from Film Fun Annual 1939. Only two comedians remain unaccounted for, as different from each other as it's possible to be. Have I saved the best until last?

STANLEY LUPINO: as I mentioned in an earlier article, it puzzled me that there could be two Lupinos, one of whom used Lupino as his Christian name. This was the immortal Henry George Lupino, known professionally as Lupino Lane and privately as Nipper, a celebrated star of silent Hollywood two-reelers and 1930s London stage musicals. Versions of Me and My Girl are still touring today; Ivy and I saw this classic show at the Milton Keynes Theatre on Nov. 28th, and if Nipper was as funny as Michael Frame in the lead role, he must have been a truly great comedian. Which he was, of course...

Stanley Lupino was Nipper's cousin, or uncle, or grandad, or sister. Who knows? To avoid and also cause confusion at the same time, we offer you another look at the Lupino Family Tree, from John Parker's Who's Who in the Theatre, 1946:

Stanley's birthdate is usually given as 1893, not '94 as stated here, but I'll let you know definitely when I get a good look at his impressive monument in Lambeth Cemetery. He was Ida's dad, co-starred with Thelma Todd in You Made Me Love You (a hilarious updating of The Taming of the Shrew) and was notoriously the host of the Hollywood party from which Thelma drove home to her mysterious death. Stanley, however, didn't make any pictures in Hollywood. His thirteen movies were all made in London and were mostly cinematic versions of his stage musicals; for Stanley, like Nipper, was a superb stage comedian, often seen in partnership with the underrated and sadly underfilmed Laddie Cliff (1891-1937). Stanley and Laddie worked beautifully together; they were both small, quirky, dapper and acrobatic. Over She Goes is, in my opinion, the best example we have of what a 1930s London musical comedy looked like, and it contains one heck of a number, "Side By Side", sung and danced all around the room at lightning speed by Stanley, Laddie and the "romantic lead" John Wood. This dazzling routine can be seen on the Pathe website and includes an incredible 360-degree pan; for a few seconds the stagey country-house set seems real. (Maybe it was; the exterior shots are very impressive). In this movie, and others which Stanley usually wrote himself, he and Laddie are ex-music hall performers incongruously in love with classy society girls. After the inevitable farcical complications (dressing up, pretending to be your own long-lost uncle; you know the sort of thing) with some interesting musical interludes along the way, all ends well. In Cheer Up, aspiring songwriter Stanley has to prove to his pal Roddy Hughes (Laddie being presumably unavailable for this one) that he can write a song about anything - and he comes up with the tender ballad "Steak and Kidney Pudding, I Adore You". Now that's a collector's item.

Stanley's movies are woefully neglected and unavailable, so please search out the bits and pieces on the Pathe website and enjoy his talent. It's now known that he was a highly-strung, temperamental hypochondriac, dabbling in spiritualism (through loneliness, when his wife Connie went to Hollywood with Ida), claiming to be in communication with the ghost of Dan Leno, and frequently threatening not to go onstage due to some mystery ailment. Actually he wasn't kidding. It was cancer that eventually got him, in his late forties, so he's forgotten today; and that's a disgrace. He's buried, appropriately enough, near his idol Dan Leno. Someday soon, when I make the pilgrimage, I'll let you know all the details.

Our final character - and I use the term advisedly - is far from forgotten.

JIMMY DURANTE: "It won't be long now, folks! Ha-cha-cha!" says Jimmy "Schnozzle" Durante, straight to camera at the end of What-No Beer? in the most terrifying close-up since Nosferatu. It's not easy to be indifferent about this cheerful, ebullient entertainer. To most Americans he's Vaudeville Personified; strangely, admirers of Buster Keaton take a quite different viewpoint. Buster's career was starting to slide a bit once he'd become entangled in MGM's vice-like grip, so they brought in the Schnoz, initially as a supporting player in The Passionate Plumber (which stinks, believe me) then as a below-the-title co-star: Buster Keaton in Speak Easily with Jimmy Durante; and finally as, in effect, half of a double-act: Buster Keaton and Jimmy Durante in What-No Beer? By the time of this final effort Buster was an alcoholic mess, a fact sadly visible onscreen, and Jimmy had to carry much of the movie himself, not to everyone's satisfaction. It's one of the most vilified films ever made, as if Jimmy is being blamed personally for circumstances beyond his control. But what was he supposed to do? Nearly forty, hardly a Clark Gable lookalike, he was unlikely to say no to a top Hollywood studio anxious to promote him to star billing; and Buster's decline was by this point inevitable anyway. What-No Beer? is no classic (Speak Easily is a better movie) but Buster and Jimmy are convincing as old army pals anxious to break into the beer racket at the end of prohibition:

Mr. Jordan (financier): Well, er...this is a new enterprise for you, Jimmy. (glances at blank-faced Buster, whose naive responses have nearly undermined their scheme) Have you known your partner long?

Jimmy: Oh, yes. (all smiles) We were shell-shocked together in France.

Mr. Jordan: Oh, you were?

Jimmy: (dirty look at Buster) But I got over mine.

The movie also has a pleasantly quiet running gag, prompted by this choice bit of dialogue. It's raining outside, and taxidermist Buster removes his umbrella from a stuffed-kangaroo umbrella-stand:

Jimmy: What's that?!

Buster: That's a kangaroo.

Jimmy: A what?

Buster: A kangaroo - a native of Australia.

Jimmy: (aghast) Oh!!! (slaps his own face in horror)

Buster: What's the matter?

Jimmy: My sister married one o' dem!

The only problem with this much-maligned movie - if it is a problem - is that Jimmy, by his very nature as a performer, hardly lets Buster get a word in; and yet he did this to everybody - or so posterity would have us believe, for let's not forget, this was all scripted. Keaton fans should be more lenient towards Jimmy and his bombastic malapropisms. It's hard not to like a man who, when asked if he ever wanted to play Hamlet, replied "To hell with dose small towns - New York's da place for me!"

That's it, readers; we've Finally Finished the Funny Faces. Have a Happy [insert here whatever you intend to celebrate] and I'll be back soon with some more obscure people you've never heard of. But trust me, they're all worth the effort. Adios.

King Edwards

by Geoff Collins

It's World War One; and tough little Sergeant Brophy (played, appropriately, by tough little Ed Brophy) is appalled by the sorry state of the new recruits. This lamentable shower includes bowler-hatted idiot Victor Potel, effeminate ukulele-clutching superannuated collegian Cliff Edwards, and young millionaire Buster Keaton who joined the army by accident when he went to hire a chauffeur. Sergeant Brophy is far from impressed.

Brophy [giving Potel a silent once-over]: Now there's a picture! Get back inna ranks!

Cliff [steps forward and bursts into song, accompanying himself on his ukulele]: "Here am I, broken-hearted!" [He follows this with a bit of falsetto scat-singing, which dwindles as he realises that Brophy is glaring at him with murderous ferocity. Cliff is wearing a garish collegiate cardigan and a straw hat.]

Brophy [slowly, after a long pause]: What's your name?

Cliff [embarrassed]: Er....

Brophy [snarls]: Don't you know who y'are???

Cliff [pathetic attempt to lighten the situation]: I'm not myself today...

Brophy: I got your number!

Cliff [brightens up considerably; he really means this!]: Will ya call me up sometime?

Brophy [immediate burst of rage]: GET BACK INNA RANKS!!!

This little gem is from the 1930 MGM comedy Doughboys, the most tolerable of the four movies Cliff Edwards made with Buster Keaton. Four, I hear you ask? I also hear you ask: Cliff who?

Cliff "Ukulele Ike" Edwards, 1895-1971, was a major vaudeville and Broadway star in the 1920s, a small, beaming fellow who played the ukulele and indulged in a unique type of high-pitched scat-singing which he called "effin". Fortunately he chose not to be billed as Cliff "Effin" Edwards. He was the original Singer in the Rain, and MGM attempted to build him up to movie stardom in the early 30s, during which time he made his four appearances with Keaton - thus beating the accepted record set by You-Know-Who. [There will now be the briefest of pauses while Durante says "Ah'm mortified! What a catastrascope!"]

Three years younger than Eddie Cantor, Cliff had a similar high, clear voice, but that three years makes all the difference. Whereas Cantor brought a whiff of 1910s vaudeville to everything he did, Edwards was firmly rooted in the 1920s, the Jazz Age. Although generally considered more of a popular entertainer than a jazz musician, ukulele virtuoso Cliff made many recordings with his Hot Combination, which was, in effect, Red Nichols and his Five Pennies; and his records often featured a chorus of his screechy scatting. His friendly if effete persona would seem perfectly suited to the early talkies, but he was mostly in the supporting cast (let's face it, he was no Clark Gable) with an occasional showcase in ensemble pieces such as George White's 1935 Scandals. Doughboys is the most watchable of his four Keaton movies [four?] and the one in which he has the nearest thing to a leading role. He has a good solo musical number, "Sing (a Funny Little Thing)" which leads into Buster's apache dance; and earlier in the movie he joins forces with Keaton and the film's director Edward Sedgwick (unbilled, chubby and Ronnie Barker-like, playing the role of the camp cook - although he's not as camp as Cliff) for the only appearance of what we shall be pleased to call the Buster Keaton Trio.

This is as cherishable as Keaton's double-act with Chaplin in Limelight; an unrepeatable one-off. Initially Sedgwick is disgusted with Cliff's romantic, slow-tempo crooning; then it all speeds up and turns hot, and he joins in for a fantastic three-minute scatathon. Cliff plays the ukulele with a pair of drumsticks while Buster holds it and does the chord changes, and they all scat away like a demented jug band until Cliff's howling - the only discernible lyrics being "I want my mama!" - becomes too much for Sergeant Brophy who storms in and breaks the whole thing up. It's all performed in a single continuous take and may be the most joyous moment in all Buster's talkies; just three talented friends having fun.

Let's return briefly to an earlier question: Cliff Edwards was in four Keaton talkies? Yes, if you include the finale of Hollywood Revue of 1929, in which Cliff warbles "Singing in the Rain", and Keaton, sad and silent, is amongst the gallery of uncomfortable-looking MGM stars on display. (His face says it all: "What am I doing here?") Of course, Gene Kelly's Singin' In the Rain went beyond brilliance, but here we have this great song in its original late-20s setting; and Cliff Edwards sang it first.

Doughboys would seem to indicate that MGM intended to team Cliff with Keaton. They certainly worked well together, so who knows what happened? Cliff has hardly more than a running-gag bit part in Parlor, Bedroom and Bath; and then they quietly brought in Jimmy Durante, if such a thing is possible. Yes sir! Yackety yackety yak! I got a million of 'em! Ha-cha-cha-cha-cha ! etc. etc. etc. Poor Buster.

By the mid-1930s, Bing Crosby dominated all, and Cliff's ukulele-accompanied singing style seemed like a bit of a relic, although he continued to star in Broadway shows and on radio, with good supporting roles in movies. He's outstanding as a cynical-but-friendly reporter in His Girl Friday; and he's somewhere in Gone With the Wind, I suspect as just a voice-over; I don't relish having to sit through all four hours of it to find him. Sorry, Cliff, another time maybe.

Cliff was rescued by,of all people, Walt Disney. Yes, readers, if you didn't know this already, and there's no reason why you should, CLIFF EDWARDS IS THE VOICE OF JIMINY CRICKET. I consider his rendition of "When you Wish Upon a Star" to be a thing of beauty; and of course he also sang "Give a Little Whistle". Cliff's association with Disney continued; he's Jim Crow in Dumbo and gets to sing "When I See an Elephant Fly", which allows him to do his scat stuff in a swingier setting than usual. But what good did it do him? Neither movie gives an on-screen credit to the voice artists; so very few people know that in Dumbo, Cliff is reunited with his old adversary Sergeant Brophy. Ed is the voice of Dumbo's pal Timothy the wise-guy little mouse. The deplorable truth is that Cliff received hardly any credit for his exceptional Disney work during his lifetime. According to the Disney organization's commercial soundtrack albums, "Jiminy Cricket" sang his own songs. Disney kept Cliff on the payroll but otherwise didn't do a lot to prevent his decline.

Why did Cliff have such a slide into oblivion? What was he really like? The dialogue he has with Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday, and the dazzling smile he gives her, provide a clue to the real Cliff. It's all there, and more, in www.dgarrick.com/cliffedwards/cliff/php. He was married three times, and bankrupted three times - not apparently cause-and-effect. He was fond of chorus girls and, let's admit it, quite keen on alcohol, drugs and gambling. His starring career should have continued into the 50s, but it didn't. It's easy to blame Disney - actually, that seems like a good idea - but the truth is that over a long period, Cliff sank his own boat. His death certificate, reproduced on the Garrick website, tells the tale. Cliff died alone and unrecognised, his body unclaimed for days because nobody knew who he was. Where was his family? Few people can be more forgotten than this; and yet this was the man who was Jiminy Cricket.

It's hard to watch Doughboys without reflecting on the fate of its two stars. Both went into the abyss. Buster Keaton eventually found recognition and respect, but it was a close finish. Cliff Edwards slowly disappeared from sight. But somehow, from what we know of Cliff, what his movies tell us, is that he knew exactly what he was doing. Divorced and bankrupt three times? He decided not to learn from his mistakes. So not such a sad life, was it, Cliff? He had a good time. You could probably have a great night out with Cliff Edwards, but it wouldn't be memorable - because the next day you wouldn't remember any of it: "Did we do that?"

Our oft-stated policy on this site is to renew interest in neglected comedians. Cliff, like Cantor and Jolson, is more in the category of a funny singing entertainer, but there's no question that he's a Third Banana; and as proof, you can enjoy his musical talents on www.redhotjazz.com/cliffedwards.html.

All this should be part of Funny Faces on the Films, part 3, but, like Eddie Cantor, Cliff deserves an article to himself. Unlike Eddie, though, he wasn't pushy. Can you imagine Eddie as Jiminy Cricket? Yes, he would be wonderful, almost perfect voice-casting (and have you ever noticed how much Kermit the Frog sounds like Eddie?) but the opening credits would have to be:

Walt Disney
presents
EDDIE CANTOR
in
Pinocchio

No, thank you. I'll take Cliff Edwards. He'll always be Jiminy Cricket; and a whole lot more.

The Quoon has Sweened!

Yes, yes, I know. Aside from his 1934-1948 dry spell, Buster Keaton is about as far from a Third Banana as can be imagined, but I can't help it, I tell you! I must talk about Keaton, especially when Geoff digs up stuff like this:

It has long been a mystery to me how contemporary audiences could have possibly embraced Keaton's now-legendarily awful MGM talkies. In 1930, Buster's fine silent work should have still been fresh in peoples' minds (after all, The Cameraman had been released just two years before) but, if we're to believe what we're told, those same people laughed their asses off at the execrable Free and Easy and kept Buster a consistent box office winner through 1933 no matter how crapulous his MGM talkies may have been (or how intoxicated he was on-screen). Well, this brief review from the May 7, 1930 issue of Punch establishes that not everyone was willing to follow Buster into MGM's brave new world of grotesquely belabored doubletalk routines. It still begs the question, however, of what the remaining 99% of the moviegoing public was smoking in 1930.

But, much as I agree with E.V.L. about the quality of Buster's first talkie, he is wrong, wrong, wrong about Buster's voice. "Not so attractive as his antics".. PHAW!!

Mr. Keaton Goes to Columbia

I have mixed feelings about this one. On March 7th, Sony is releasing a double-DVD set featuring all ten of Buster Keaton's Columbia shorts. Keaton was, bar none, the greatest talent ever to work for the Columbia comedy shorts department. Unfortunately, as had been proven at MGM, Buster never fared well when working within the rigid confines of the studio system and no shorts unit in Hollywood was as rigid as Columbia's, which is why it outlived every other such department in town. Take this with a grain of salt if you will as I haven't seen all of Buster's Columbia material and there may very well be a loose gem rattling around in there, but what I've seen smacks of "product" just like most post-1938 Columbia shorts; slick and streamlined and mostly flavorless (except when Elsie Ames appears, at which point they become downright obnoxious). Nevertheless, although they may not hold a candle to Buster's silent work, these films served their purpose. Buster was happy for the employment (if not about the quality of the shorts), Jules White was happy to have Buster's name on his department's roster, and undemanding audiences were happy to see Buster back on the screen, especially as his best work was a dim memory by 1939. Could anyone recall a time when Buster didn't play a bumbling idiot named Elmer?

But why Columbia? After Educational Pictures folded, there were still other studios producing quality comedy shorts. Frankly, just about any of Columbia's competitors could have produced a better series of Buster Keaton shorts. Warners had the wonderful Joe McDoakes series starring George O'Hanlon (later to perform the voice of George Jetson), and RKO's short subjects department was certainly producing excellent comedies and would continue to do so until they closed shop in 1953 or '54 (the Gil Lamb shorts must have been to blame). Come to think of it, Columbia's unit didn't outlive RKO's by that many years, and unlike Columbia, RKO never, as far as I know, recycled old footage to keep costs down. In short, Columbia wasn't, as it has so frequently been portrayed, the only game in town.. at least not yet. But shopping around was never Buster Keaton's forte', and this appears to be another instance in which he left his career on autopilot and let others make the decisions for him. As it happened, Buster's old "director" and gagman Clyde Bruckman was on White's payroll at Columbia, and it was he who suggested Buster to his boss. The job just fell into Buster's lap, apparently. Two factors aside from Bruckman may have made Columbia, rather than its competitors, seem a logical new home. First, the salary, the standard $2,500 a picture Columbia offered all of their regular short comedy stars, may have been better than other studios could offer, although in an interview with David Bruskin, White claimed that comedians like Keaton and Langdon were so down on their luck that "they'd take whatever salary I offered". This is, of course, a rather broad mischaracterization of the situation. Secondly, by 1939, Buster's reputation had, for whatever reason, become that of a pie-tossing, Keystone-style zany, and Columbia was the new Mecca of slapstick. Nonetheless, Keaton must have felt ensnared the moment he started work. In his autobiography, he claims to have tried to convince studio president Harry Cohn to spend more money and time on the shorts in order to make them marketable commodities in their own right rather than giveaways as a part of Columbia's package deal to theaters. In the end, Buster writes that he was happy to leave Columbia because he "couldn't stomach turning out even one more crummy two-reeler." You're not likely to see Sony use that quote in their publicity.

While a gig at RKO or Warners would probably have resulted in better films (and his much maligned shorts for Educational are superior), these aren't a total loss. Nothing Buster Keaton is in is a total loss. Buster is as agile as ever, his timing is flawless, and while the scripts are from hunger, there are still moments to be enjoyed... until Elsie Ames enters the frame, at least. And the graphics for the title sequences are downright beautiful and, for me, worth the price of the set alone.

As for my mixed feelings, while I find it encouraging that Sony/Columbia has suddenly realized that they're in possession of other shorts besides those starring the Three Stooges, I can only wish this set were devoted to one of the series that have good reputations. The comedy shorts unit was capable of excellent work in the 1930s, particularly under Hugh McCollum, and the Charley Chase comedies, at least the ones I've seen, must be counted among this unsung genius's best work. I can only hope that sales are brisk enough, despite the grumblings of picky knowitalls like myself, for Sony to consider raiding the vaults for more, and better, material (including, one hopes, their Screen Gems cartoons! I can dream, can't I?). The price is certainly right, $16.19 at Amazon.

Incidentally, Sony is calling this set the "65th Anniversary Collection". 65th anniversary of what? 1941 was the year Keaton left Columbia. Seems an odd thing to celebrate to me, although I think Buster might have disagreed.

"The best of the old comedy favorites, the brightest of the new stars"

Founded in 1915 by Earle W. Hammons for the production and distribution of classroom films, Educational Pictures quickly, and lucratively, shifted gears and began producing comedy shorts. Educational hit its peak sometime in the mid-20s, releasing Jack White's acclaimed Lloyd Hamilton shorts and distributing Otto Messmer's Felix the Cat cartoons. But in 1933, following a financially disastrous partnership with Mack Sennett to produce features (as Sono Art-World Wide Pictures), Educational was forced to sell off its exchanges and reopen at Paramount's old Astoria, Long Island facility (where The Cocoanuts and Follow The Leader were shot). Now releasing through 20th Century Fox, Educational had become a strange twilight zone of down-on-their-luck silent era names like Buster Keaton and moonlighting Broadway celebrities like Bert Lahr and Joe Cook, taking advantage of the studio's convenient proximity. Not only silent era performers but producers and directors found Educational a friendly port during the industry's turbulent transition to sound. The studio's product was wildly uneven during its final decade with even the best shorts looking extremely threadbare. As cheap as the shorts may have been, and as poor as the writing frequently was, the talent on display was undeniably impressive.

I found this 1936 trade ad for Educational on Ebay last month and it nicely illustrates the bizarre blend of "old comedy favorites" and "new stars" that populated the studio's product at the time. Buster Keaton, at a low point in his life but still capable of wonderful work, and the brilliant Joe Cook are clearly the studio's prize performers (Joe Cook had no better film vehicles than his shorts), but the lower ranks are pretty fascinating, too. Bert Lahr, the most famous of the second-stringers depicted, should have been a major film personality (IMO) but his film career never clicked and today he's remembered primarily for his performance as the Cowardly Lion. Tom Howard, Joe Cook's stooge from Rain Or Shine (1930), had his own series, appearing with his own stooge George Shelton. Both went on to star through the 1940s in the radio quiz parody It Pays To Be Ignorant. Until I saw this ad, I had no idea that professional milquetoast Ernest Truex had ever been the featured performer in anything, let alone his own series of shorts. He found work in film and on TV through 1965 as the meek next-door neighbor or the ineffectual boss. Truex's wife, Mary Jane Barrett (bottom right), appeared with him frequently on Broadway and, it seems, at Educational, although she doesn't have an IMDB listing. The rest of the comics are the aforementioned "new stars" and of them, only Tim and Irene Ryan, the poor man's Burns and Allen, went on to have any kind of substantial screen career. Gruff Tim and madcap Irene became a standard feature of poverty row musical comedies through 1944. I've never seen any of their work for Educational but The Wacky Family (1936) must be one of the weakest film titles of all time. Tim, a prolific B-comedy screenwriter, died in 1956. Irene Ryan, who divorced Tim in 1942, went on to lasting fame as Granny Clampett on The Beverly Hillbillies. Incidentally, Tim and Irene are featured on the original 1934 sheet music for Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town. I'm assuming they introduced the song on radio. Does anyone out there know? The team of Patricola and West had a brief series of for Educational between 1935 and 1938, reportedly interchangeable with that of Educational's other musical comedy duo, Timberg and Rooney (curiously not depicted). It seems that Earl Oxford appeared in exactly one short for the studio and I can't find even that many for the amiable looking Fred Lightner (any relation to Winnie? There's a definite resemblance). Singer Niela Goodelle headlined her own series (and appeared at least once with Earl Oxford on Broadway), but I'm unsure about Nell Kelly, another Broadway singer.

This eclectic lineup represents Educational's last gasp. E. W. Hammons, eager to re-enter the features market ever since his 1931-33 partnership with Sennett, gambled it all and lost. In 1938, he merged Educational with Grand National Pictures just as it was sinking into bankruptcy, apparently in a bid to save it. But Grand National's situation was terminal and, when it finally folded in 1939, it took what remained of Educational with it (Fox took over distribution of the Terrytoons). Just a few years later, adding insult to injury, a vault fire at Fox's Deluxe labs destroyed a tremendous number Educational's negatives, all but wiping out the studio's (presumably superior) silent output and erasing most of the film careers of Lloyd Hamilton and Lupino Lane, a staggering blow to the record of the silent era.

The Triumph of Buster Keaton

The comedian may not be obscure, but the material is! Laughsmith Entertainment’s Industrial Strength Keaton double DVD set features a remarkable assortment of odds and ends from Buster’s career, running the gamut from rare silent footage to newly discovered industrial films. To suggest this set is for Keaton completests rather misses the point and infers that this footage is somehow best left to fanatics with undemanding tastes. Although generally accepted to have been at his prime during the silent era, Buster Keaton’s career was no simple Rise and Fall story, and he continued to produce excellent, and oftentimes brilliant, work until his death in 1966. Even at the lowest point in his life, just following his ouster from MGM in 1933, he was capable of a characteristically skilled and energetic performance in the little-seen Le Roi Des Champs-Élysées. While Buster was largely helpless when working for factories like MGM and the shorts department at Columbia, he thrived during the 50s and early 60s, a period that should could be considered his personal Renaissance. Freed from the studio grind and given a great degree of creative freedom by younger producers who recognized, and were appreciative of, Keaton’s status as a comedy mastermind, Buster was able to spend the last two decades of his life in front of the cameras, doing what he did best.

The release date has been moved ahead at least once, but Industrial Strength Keaton is supposed to be available in January, 2006. Personally, I can’t wait to finally see An Old Spanish Custom and The Triumph of Lester Snapwell.. and seeing Buster Keaton and Ed Wynn together on the same stage will probably make my head explode! I only wish Laughsmith could have thrown a few shorts from Buster’s series at Educational into the mix, but if there’s a market for Industrial Strength Keaton, it’s only a matter of time before someone releases that material as well.

Damn.. I love the cover, too! I CAN'T WAIT, I TELLS YA!!!!

DVD FEATURES

FEATURE FILMS

The Playhouse (1921) B&W / Silent
* Audio commentary track
Digitally remastered and restored version of one of Keaton’s greatest shorts. New score from The Paragon Ragtime Orchestra.

Character Studies (Mid-1920s) B&W
* Audio commentary track
Recently discovered short with famed magician Carter DeHaven and featuring cameos by Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle, Jackie Coogan, Douglas Fairbanks, Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd and Rudolph Valentino.

Parlor, Bedroom and Bath (1931) B&W / sound feature
* Audio commentary track
* Keaton's Italian villa still gallery
Digitally remastered and restored feature. Definitive version.

PROMOTIONAL FILMS

Seein' Stars (1922) B&W / sound

The Voice of Hollywood #10 (1929) B&W / sound

Hollywood on Parade #A-6 (1933) B&W / sound

An Old Spanish Custom (1935) B&W / sound
* Audio commentary track
* Original press book

LIVE TELEVISION

The Butcher Boy / Can of Molasses Sketch
* The Butcher Boy (1917) B&W / Silent clip w/ Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle
* The Ed Wynn Show (1949) B&W / Sound w/ Ed Wynn
* You Asked For It (1957) B&W / Sound w/ Eddie Gribbon
* Unknown TV appearance (1950s) B&W / Sound w/ Billy Gilbert

"The Martha Raye Show" (1956) B&W / Sound
* The Concert
Buster Keaton and Martha Raye recreate a sketch originally used in the classic Charlie Chaplin feature Limelight.

"Circus Time" (1956)

COMMERCIALS

Alka Seltzer (1958) [5 spots]

Northwest Orient Airlines (1958)

Simon Pure Beer (1958) [6 spots]

Shamrock Oil / Outtakes (1959)
* Audio commentary track
* Director’s interview track

Milky Way (1961)

Pure Oil (1965)

Country Club Malt Liquor (1958) [3 spots]

Ford Econoline (1963)

Jeep - Lessons in Living (1960)
* Only surviving complete Jeep commercial
* Recently discovered fragments from previously undocumented Jeep commercials.

Pure Oil (1965)

INDUSTRIAL FILMS

The Devil To Pay (1960) B&W / sound short
* Promotional booklet

The Homeowner (1961) - Color / sound short
* Audio commentary track
Recently discovered, previously undocumented Keaton industrial film.

The Triumph of Lester Snapwell (1963) Color short

BONUS FEATURES

1 Parlor, 5 Bedrooms and 6 Baths - A new mini-documentary from filmmaker Jack Dragga.

Commentary tracks from comedy historians Andy Coryell, Paul Gierucki, Bruce Lawton, Steve Massa and Richard M. Roberts.

Still galleries featuring previously unseen Keaton images, original press books, trade advertisements and more.

New music scores from composer Ben Model.

20 page full color booklet with detailed descriptions of each film, archival photos and essays from authors/historians Ken Gordon, Steve Massa, David B. Pearson, Patricia Eliot Tobias and more!