The period from 1927 to 1930 is one of the most interesting in film history. Beginning with the debut of The Jazz Singer, the first feature-length film with synchronized talking sequences, it saw the swift and almost complete obliteration of silent film as a popular moviemaking form. Even those of us who love silent film must admit this was inevitable. But there was certainly never a ‘clean break’ from the silent to sound eras. Into the 1930s, in many parts of the world, theatres still weren’t wired for sound. And of course, people in many parts of the world couldn’t understand English if they heard it. If one produced a full-talkie that one wished to have seen in many nations, one had to decide how to approach that situation.
And so it was that director Lewis Milestone made All Quiet on the Western Front, one of the finest silent films of all time—and one very few people know exists, because the sound version of it is so famous.
Everyone reading this knows Buster Keaton, and most of you probably know a little bit about Three Ages, his first feature, too. Untested in hour-long comedies, Keaton agreed to film something that was splittable into three short films: each one able to stand on its own, if need be. As it turned out, Three Ages worked out just fine as a feature. Today, we remember it as the start of the second, and most artistically successful, phase of his career.
If you like Keaton’s shorts, you’ll like Three Ages. And who doesn’t like his shorts? Almost all of them are fast-paced, sharp comedies, with good gags that obey the laws of physics. They were ambitious too—in scale, as in Cops, and in technical reach, like The Playhouse. The trio of films that make up Three Ages fall about in the middle of that pack. One, though, offered a glimpse into Keaton’s future work, and for that reason, it the most special of the three.
Silent film fans, this one included, have a great affection for Lonesome. It’s as sweet a movie as they come. I remember the first time I saw it, three years ago, in Syracuse, New York. I left the theatre feeling startled by how genuine and fresh it was. I was confident I could it show to anyone.
Of course, that would have been hard to do at the time. Until recently, Lonesome was festival film, difficult to see. And when you did see it, what you got was a rather rough-looking print. That has now changed, thanks to the gods at Criterion, who’ve seen fit to bless us with a Blu-ray release of the film. Now, finally, I’ve been able to give Lonesome a second look. But that second look is causing me to question its appeal.
