Early
last Friday afternoon, I was, at least conceptually, lost in the middle of Kansas City. I had just
landed at the airport, rented a car, and was driving downtown with map in hand.
The differences between Kansas City, Kansas, and Kansas City, Missouri, soon
confused me and I ended up driving around in circles for over an hour before I
finally found the restaurant. I was hooking up with my old friend Leonard
Maltin, the film reporter for Entertainment Tonight, who was out on the
road promoting the latest edition of his book Leonard Maltin’s Movie and
Video Guide. (Maltin had sold the first edition our senior year in high
school).
We were taking a road trip together to Iola, Kansas, for a local celebration
of silent film stars Buster Keaton and Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle, Leonard being
the guest of honor. Keaton had been born in nearby Picqua, Kansas, and this was
Iola’s fourth annual celebration. In the early Seventies, Leonard and I took
regular summer road trips that ended up as used-book-buying sprees. This
September weekend had worked out in our schedules so that we could meet up and
drive there together.
Back in the summer of 1964, when Leonard and I were 13, we lived in Teaneck,
New Jersey, just a short drive from New York City. One day when we had plans to
go into the City (mostly to see movies and shop for books), Leonard excitedly
showed me a New York Times article that talked about how Samuel Beckett
was shooting his first film in Manhattan, starring Buster Keaton. Samuel
Beckett we didn’t know, but Buster Keaton was one of our heroes then, as he
most certainly is now. Silent films were one of our passions, and we were
fortunate to have the opportunity to see many of them at film societies and
museums in the city and at collectors’ homes. Keaton was one of our favorites,
a film genius about whose work we were passionate.
We took the bus into the city, then subways over to Canal Street. Coming out
of the station, we headed towards the Bridge, almost immediately noticing
lights and screens just a few blocks away. We approached.
Buster Keaton was sitting in the back seat of a car, about halfway down the
block, reading a newspaper, his famous hat on the seat beside him. I was
nervous and hesitant but with Leonard in the lead, we just walked over to
Keaton, who was quite gracious. Soft-spoken but friendly, he politely answered
questions. Leonard showed him a still from one of his movies that we couldn’t
identify. Keaton quickly named the movie but said the actress in the shot with
him was not the same one as in the movie. After a few minutes, other people
began coming over, and eventually we left.
Thirty-two years later we are in a car in Kansas, continuing many of the same
discussions we began over three decades before. The visit will go like this,
deep in the American heartland, where we are wined and dined, everyone being so
thrilled to meet Leonard Maltin.
I would love to talk here, in detail, about the great Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle.
The universal response to his name has more to do with an alleged rape and
unfortunate death in San Francisco rather than his brilliance as a comic
performer. Most of the Arbuckle scandal was trumped-up garbage having more to
do with political ambition and intra-city rivalries (Los Angeles and San
Francisco) than sex and Coke bottles. The details would be great to go into:
How the third jury (there had been two hung juries) acquitted Arbuckle in one
minute, taking an additional five minutes to draft a statement apologizing for
his being brought to trial; how just days after his acquittal, newly appointed
movie moral czar Will Hayes banned him from the screen. But that would all be
just defending Arbuckle, and I think that case, in the minds of the American
public, is lost (although, if you’re interested, read David Yallop’s great
The Day the Laughter Died). If there were space, I’d not only celebrate
Keaton’s genius but also talk about Arbuckle and how agile, skilled, and
physically funny he was, about his great sense of comic timing and his mastery
of physical space. Some other time…
Ironically, the night after I returned to Austin, Beckett’s film, titled
Film, was shown by the Austin Film Society on a double bill with The
General. This has already happened, but don’t be too bitter, The
General is a masterpiece but Film (though impossible to see and we
are all indebted to the film society for bringing it) is a bore. Coming back
from that small, sweet Kansas town, where the two days of screenings and
discussions was such a special event, I realized how lucky we are here in
Austin.
We have not only the regu- lar programming at the Dobie, the Village, and the Student Union, but the wake
of Richard Linklater — from the number of independent film-makers at work to
the many Austin Film Society series. Currently, AFS is running the
Powell/Pressburger Archers series (see p.46), the British Playwrights series
(p.48), a fall edition of their successful Film Noir series, plus numerous
special screenings. Next week is the Austin Heart of Film Screenwriters
Conference, which, in a few short years has become one of the country’s most
prominent screenwriting conferences. This year’s lineup of Hollywood writing
talent is truly extraordinary; their film festival offers over 30 films
including local and national premieres (p.46). The 21st season of The
Territory, KLRU-TV’S acclaimed series that showcases independent, animated,
and experimental film begins on October 8 (p.50). A revitalized CinemaTexas has
just finished an ambitious expansive student film festival. There are also
different film/video societies and support groups I’m not even mentioning. And
this just covers October…. n
This article appears in October 4 • 1996 and October 4 • 1996 (Cover).