Donnerwetter - Buster Keaton

I can imagine André Breton, Max Ernst, Yves Tanguy, Man Ray, Luis Buñuel, and Salvador Dali enjoying this Keaton short. A subway station in the frozen north, an attempted holdup of a gambling hall (a gag that only makes sense in the context of a film), the radiator of a sled overheating, golf clubs, a keep off the grass sign sticking up through the snow, etc.

The surrealist movement was influenced by the theories of Sigmund Freud and free association and his interpretation of dreams. Considering that The Surrealist Manifesto wasn't written until 1924, so it's very possible that this could have influenced the European surrealists.

I realize that this may seem like a lot of extra information, but having some knowledge of surrealism helps make this Keaton short more understandable and enjoyable. Even though this might seem disjointed, there is some logic behind all of this. If you don't believe me, just ask your analyst...

I read recently that this was supposed to be a satire of someone else's movies (I can't remember the actor's name that Keaton is satirizing), but even knowing that, it's a shocker. The one thing you can always count on in Keaton's movies is an underlying sweet-naturedness (unlike Chaplin, who expresses a lot of anger in his comedies). I wish he hadn't made it, because by now, the movies he's referring to are forgotten, and we don't get the point. All his other movies are about universal human experiences, and will always be understood by any audience, anywhere.

The humour is uncharacteristically cynical for Keaton who cuts a wholly incongruous figure from the moment he emerges from a subway in the middle of Alaska.

A modern audience is unlikely to recognise his parodies of William S. Hart and Erich von Stroheim, but with London currently gasping through a heatwave all that snow sure looks good.

Buster Keaton tackles the rare villainous role, a thoroughly rotten outlaw, in this strange, ice-crusted sorta-western. After emerging from "the end of the subway line" in the frosty tundra of deep Alaska, Keaton gets right to robbing casinos, firing guns at the backs of strangers and making passes at a neighbor's wife... all crimes of convenience that don't go according to plan, but they're still pretty dark acts. There's barely any narrative to speak of, either, just a few clips of Keaton running through the snow to bridge the divergent scenes and a bland, overused climactic jape.

The Frozen North is disorganized to the max; scattered and unfocused like a grab bag of unrefined ideas. Perhaps understandably so, as Keaton's head wasn't really in the game during production. At the time, his friend and former partner, Fatty Arbuckle, was being judged in the press and blacklisted ahead of a much-publicized manslaughter trial and Buster took the about-face of many industry acquaintances very personally. That almost assuredly led to the film's angrier tone and less-focused production. The Frozen North is also, evidently, loaded with topical humor that's utterly lost on most sets of modern eyes, including my own. The despicable cowboy Keaton plays, a selfish scoundrel, was understood at the time as a send-up of William S. Hart, star of many such pictures, who was a vocal critic of Arbuckle's despite never crossing his path. In that context, the film takes on a new light. I'd still consider it one of Buster's worst, both for the structural disarray and the hopelessly dour spirit, but at least I can understand his reasoning.

I seem to have enjoyed this film a great deal more than most of the other reviewers; perhaps context helps. In the darkness of a warm cinema on a bright frosty afternoon, surrounded by laughter from a full house of hundreds of people, from those too old to have hair to those too young to read, watching a pristine print on the big screen to the musical improvisation of one of the top silent film accompanists in the country, I found it absolutely hilarious, and Buster himself is obviously having a ball acting the villain for a change. All he lacks is a pair of mustachios to twirl.

You don't need to be familiar with specific target material to get the spoof -- at least, I wasn't. All you need is a passing acquaintance with the conventions of melodrama's modern descendant, the great British pantomime. Buster's incompetent dedication to his own ends and his domineering over his clumsy but loyal minion could be drawn straight from the seasonal boards of "Puss in Boots" or "Dick Whittington", as King Rat boasts and cowers; and his rolling tears and avid seduction wouldn't disgrace the false eyelashes of a Dame. Plus it's almost worth the price of admission alone to watch him launch a copybook Evil Snarl up at the outraged husband...

The setting of "The Frozen North" provides an almost inexhaustible series of sight gags, juxtaposing the icy surroundings with incongruous everyday objects -- the snow-carpet-beater in the igloo, the policeman's ski-mounted Harley-Davidson -- as well as the obvious slapstick opportunities afforded by deep snowdrifts, falls from the roof and frozen lakes. But there's plenty of Keaton's own unmistakable brand of surreal logic here as well, from the opening hold-up to the final shoot-out and its twist. Provided you're not completely affronted by the concept of watching Buster throw himself with zest into the role of "Curses! Foiled again" -- for back in 1922 he wasn't exclusively identified with the part of the underdog who wins through -- and provided you do realise that you're *supposed* to laugh at overacting, the film is brimful with hilarity.

Not what would later be thought of as typical for Buster Keaton, perhaps -- but nonetheless this picture bears the undeniable hallmarks of his authorship all over it, and is frequently extremely funny.