The Butcher Boy: Buster Keaton’s Film Debut
Note: This is the ninety-fourth in a series of historical/critical essays examining the best in film from each year. Essentially, I am watching films from the beginning of cinematic history that interest me and/or hold some critical or cultural impact. My personal, living list of favorites is being created at Mubi, showcasing five films per year. All this being explained, what follows is an examination of my fourth favorite 1917 film, THE BUTCHER BOY, directed by Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle.
As I wrote last week, Buster Keaton made his film debut in THE BUTCHER BOY, the first of Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle’s pictures under his new Comique Film Corporation venture. It began a productive few years of collaboration between the more established film actor that Arbuckle was (who at this point was a huge star for Paramount) and vaudeville veteran Keaton, who had performed with his family since age three. Therefore, the pair had an established comedy chemistry even in their first movie together, valiantly supported, as usual, by Arbuckle’s nephew Al St. John.
But then, Keaton was probably the true supporting actor. St. John, also as usual, played Arbuckle’s romantic rival and served as the villain of THE BUTCHER BOY. The pair both work at a general store, and they both are in love with the manager’s daughter (Alice Lake), although only Arbuckle is truly in her favor. St. John is the clerk and Arbuckle is the titular butcher boy. The latter’s entrance into the film is amusing, full of the ambivalent swagger that embodied the Fatty character. His tricks with a knife and meat are impressive, and when he’s called to the front of the store, his navigation on the rolling ladder across the store is fast and surprisingly funny. The whole vibe of the general store is a bit Rube Goldberg-y; Lake sends things around in a little cage above the floor of the store and Arbuckle is always flipping things around and being more acrobatic than is really necessary.
The highlight of the whole short, however, is Keaton’s time in the general store. He enters, also with his calm swagger he would later refine into “The Great Stoneface,” and proceeds to pick apart brooms with remarkable entitlement. The crux of his visit to the store, though, is his need for a pail of molasses. As you might imagine, the sticky substance serves as the glue (sorry) for a number of gags, including the funniest one involving Arbuckle’s use of a boiling kettle of water to attempt to get Keaton out of a puddle of the stuff. Besides these moments, though, Keaton doesn’t truly get a moment to shine alone, or even in direct partnership with Arbuckle, going forward.
Well, he does get into a fight involving spilled flour and thrown pies with St. John, but the second half of the film sees Arbuckle’s love interest confined to an all-girls boarding school. Men aren’t allowed in, so you know what good ol’ Roscoe does: he dresses up as a girl. It seems to be a favorite comic tradition of Arbuckle, and to his credit, the costume serves up a number of gags that could be seen as pretty radical or risque for 1917. It really comes to a head in CONEY ISLAND (1917), but the kisses Arbuckle gets in while in feminine garb in THE BUTCHER BOY are an interesting sight indeed.
But St. John gets the same idea as well, and sneaks into the school dressed in a way that only accentuates his pretty bizarre facial contortions, make up, and general lankiness. At this point, Keaton is inexplicably St. John’s henchman, along with another guy (John Bordeaux). The business in the boarding school isn’t nearly as funny as the first half of THE BUTCHER BOY, but as mentioned, it represents a sort of risk that succeeds with some solid bits. Keaton’s confused mania is an example of the man’s innate performance ability; your eyes are drawn to him even in scenes with a bunch of people and action going on. It’s also a little treat to see him “break” his stoic expression that would define his performances in the near future, and especially in THE BUTCHER BOY, to see his semi-villainous role. There’s no malice in his character, but the bumbling henchman ends up in a heap of trouble just like his leader, St. John.
THE BUTCHER BOY is a phenomenal start to a magnificent career from Keaton, and a further development of Arbuckle’s own comedic chops from even just a few years earlier at Keystone. By the end of their partnership, the pair were making their best films together, but this earliest effort is still worth watching today.
