Moonshine

The print of this silent comedy short starring Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle and Buster Keaton exists only in fragments today and that's what I saw on the Image Entertainment DVD of "The Best Arbuckle-Keaton Collection". In fact, the self-referential tone that other reviewers mentioned in their comments seemed to not to have been in what I watched. There are still a few funny gags that were presented like when Buster gets the men out of the car, there are a way lot more than what you'd expect of them coming out and it all seems to be in one continuous shot. Then there's the Buster-almost-falls-from-cliff-before-Fatty-becomes-the-almost-victim setup the was also good though this version seemed to have a few unintentional jump cuts due to overuse of film stock. After that, what I saw was a little confusing though the title cards and some more decent gags helped a little. So, according what I just watched, Moonshine is worth a look.

This one's actually an incomplete print, pieced together from various damaged sources, so I won't give it a rating. I'm not even sure it was meant to see the light of day, frankly; it doesn't exactly feel cohesive. The narrative is all over the place, mixing straight storytelling beats with surreal fourth-wall breaks and puzzling director's notes in lieu of title cards. Arbuckle and Keaton play an aggressive, clumsy pair of revenue agents in search of an underground moonshine operation somewhere in the Virginia hills. During these adventures, they slip in a few good, fresh bits - a clown car exercise involving thirty-odd armed men and a literal cliffhanger that leaves Arbuckle pantsed on a precipice - but otherwise it's a lumpy, awkward production and the ending doesn't make a lick of sense. Which, I gather, was half the point.

It's a simple way to spend 23 minutes, but it had me smiling. A very early example of meta-cinema, it's a self-referential film with several clever little bits. Roscoe Arbuckle plays a federal agent trying to track down a band of hillbilly moonshiners, along with his sidekick (Buster Keaton). Oh, they show up with a small army of men who humorously all get out of a car one by one, which was a great gag, and never mind the fact that we never see all those others again.

While surveying the mountainous terrain Arbuckle and Buster stand perilously at the edge of a cliff, then Buster falls over the edge, and so naturally Arbuckle tries to pull him up by the hair. Later when Buster finds himself buried, Arbuckle aggressively digs him up, caring little for how close the pick axe may come to Buster's body, then washes him in the lake and hangs his entire body upside down in a tree. "Call me when you're dry," he quips. There is an edge to Arbuckle's character that I've come to appreciate; his persona was like a dark, untamed force that's a contrast to the sweeter aspects of Chaplin, Keaton, and Lloyd.

We see this edge in other characters in his films as well. The moonshiner's daughter (Alice Lake) is aggressively pursued by a creepy mountain man (Al St. John), but holds her own by walloping him in the face each time he kisses her. "Calm yourself, my child," her father cautions, "Wait until you're married to hit him as much as you wish." It felt a little wrong to laugh about this but I couldn't help myself.

As she struggles with her father, Arbuckle arrives on the scene and throws her in the lake. His show of strength endears her to him, which may come across as humorous or sickening, but I guess I chose the former. "I love you!" she says. When the father remonstrates, Arbuckle says "Our film is only a two-reel short. No time for preliminary love scenes!" The father replies, "In that case, go on... I don't care. I don't want to ruin your masterpiece," and that sarcasm directed against itself really made me chuckle.

Buster gets in a few moments himself, in one scene making wild faces at Al St. John (who makes a few of his own), then bounding off through the meadow like a chimpanzee before hanging in a tree and then being chased up its branches.

Arbuckle is captured and thrown into a pretty posh cellar. "How can I escape from this cell?" he wonders aloud, then cracks open a book and finds that it's The Count of Monte Cristo. "Thanks for the idea, Alexandre (Dumas). I'll play dead," he says, before pouring ketchup on himself and firing a gun into the air. Why he would still have a gun or the moonshiners would be fooled by ketchup, never mind, it's a comedy. We then get an exploding and reconstructing cabin with the film run backwards.

It's not a masterpiece but was creative and unique, something which went beyond the usual kinds of slapstick antics. Buster getting the girl in the end was a plus too.

It's funny. I've reviewed several Fatty Arbuckle shorts and this one had the lowest rating on IMDb--and yet it was by far my favorite! Oh well--to each his own.

I think the reason I liked it so much was because the film didn't take itself seriously at all! In fact, many times throughout the film, it made reference to the fact it was a film or that they were doing what they were doing because the director told them to! But my favorite was when Arbuckle met the girl and they instantly fell in love. He then commented that falling in love so fast was understandable since it was only a 2-reel comedy! It was a real riot and I wish more old-time shorts took such an approach.

Funny. And that's what you are looking for in a comedy anyway, huh?

Several people have commented that only fragments remain of this film, which seems completely inaccurate to me. The print I've seen many times (it's my 8-year-olds favorite of all of Keaton's films) has a complete story from beginning to end, runs as long as most 2-reelers, and never seems to jump more than a couple of frames. The print is in bad shape *visually*, but it seems pretty much all there to me.

In any event, it's a lovely film for the time, with Arbuckle and Keaton both simply wonderful. The funniest gag (at least to me and my 8-year-old) is the variation on the old clown car gag, where Keaton opens the door to a standard sedan and 49 guys get out (I counted)! Keaton's famed athleticism is well evident, but I was surprised at how strong Arbuckle was, as well. He tosses Alice Lake into the river as though she weighed twenty pounds. Arbuckle's great foil Al St. John (n mean athlete himself) is prominently figured and has a great chase sequence up and down a tree with Keaton while they both (for unknown but surreal reasons) pretend to be monkeys. The acknowledgment throughout the film that they are making a movie is funny and ices the cake of this primitive but very funny film.