As Leonard Maltin writes in The Great Movie Shorts: “Hollywood has never been a particularly
logical place, so it seemed perfectly natural to most people that one of the
leading producers of comedy shorts was named Educational Pictures.” In fact, the studio—founded by Earle W.
Hammons in 1919—was originally commissioned to produce shorts for schools, but
somehow got sidetracked along the way…so Hammons turned to comedy instead. In the 1920s, Educational was one of the top
mirth makers in the picture business, with product featuring stars like Lloyd
Hamilton and Lupino Lane . By the 1930s, however, the studio lost a bit
of its former luster, as Maltin explains:
If one searched for a key word to describe
the Educational comedies of the 1930s, the best one might be “cheap.” Educational films almost always looked cheap,
even though they were made in most cases by seasoned veterans. One problem was the claustrophobia of
shooting at the company’s eastern studio in Astoria Long Island . In addition, one
suspects that the largest chunk of the small budgets went to pay the stars’
salaries, leaving very little for sets, costumes, and technical frills. Nevertheless, the comedies (which were
distributed by 20th Century Fox) always made money, despite the fact that the
quality of the material was often downright poor.
“The best of the old comedy favorites…the brightest of the
new stars” shouted the ad copy for Educational, and in 1934 new Educational
hire Buster Keaton certainly qualified for the former part of that
statement. Keaton’s fortunes had taken a
precipitous plunge since his glory days in the silents, and in 1933 was fired
by MGM (the studio that seemed heckbent on ruining his career) because of his
inability to toe the company line and report for work in the manner dictated
by his studio bosses (his pull on the bottle was in full swing by that
time, as anyone who’s seen What? No Beer? will testify). His personal demons made him practically
unemployable, but perpetually spiffed or not, Educational proved to be the only
studio willing to throw him a lifeline.
“Legend has it that Buster Keaton’s career started sliding
downhill in 1930 and never stopped—that his talkie films are unspeakable
horrors,” writes Maltin in Movie Shorts. “To be sure, they are not in the same league
as Keaton’s silents, but they show a comic talent very much alive, and, in some
cases, they compare favorably to other comedies being made at the same
time.” I’m sure I’ve mentioned in this
space that my first exposure to The Great Stone Face was watching his Columbia
shorts on television as a little shaver, and though I’m partial to the
Columbias I must confess viewing the shorts in this Looser Than Loose
collection has made me reconsider my position.
The Educational shorts (many co-directed by Keaton and Charles
Lamont) aren’t the slapdash, mechanical efforts supervised by the likes of
comedy directors such as Jules White, but are presented at a more leisurely
pace that allows Keaton to crib ideas from his past silent shorts. Having watched all of the Educationals over
the past several days, I’m convinced that Buster’s batting average is better
than previously noted…though as a devoted fan I’m certainly hip to the fact
that I might be a tad prejudiced in this arena.
In the documentary Buster
Keaton: A Hard Act to Follow, Keaton’s widow Eleanor divulged that
the only Educational two-reeler he had any particular fondness for was Grand
Slam Opera (1936), and it’s still my personal favorite—a brisk and
funny outing that has Buster competing for a girl’s affections at the same time
he’s seeking fame and fortune on a radio show patterned after Major Bowes’
Original Amateur Hour. By that same
token, Leonard Maltin singles out amusing efforts like The Gold
Ghost (1934), Allez Oop (1934), and One Run
Elmer (1935) for special attention in Movie Shorts. I particularly
enjoyed a pair of shorts that don’t get the equal amount of attention as those
I’ve previously mentioned: Tars and Stripes (1935) provides some excellent
opportunities for mirth (including a hilarious running gag in which Buster
schemes to be the first in line for chow outside the mess hall) playing a
would-be sailor who keeps running afoul of petty officer Vernon Dent (longtime
nemesis to the Three Stooges) by getting a little too cozy with Dent’s
girlfriend (Dorothea Kent). Mixed
Magic (1936) is another neglected gem; in this one Buster becomes
assistant to a jealous magician (Eddie Lambert) and proceeds to make a complete
shambles out of the man’s act.
That having been said, there are a goodly amount of clinkers
in Buster’s Educational output, including Palooka
from Paducah (1935), Jail Bait (1937) and Ditto
(1937). A 1935 two-reeler, The Timid Young Man, is of some historical interest because it marks the only
time that the “King of Comedy” (Mack Sennett) worked alongside the Great Stone
Face…if only the short hadn’t turned out so “aggressively average,” as my
friend Nick would say. Keaton also kept
the spirit of nepotism alive by hiring members of his family (father Joe,
mother Myra, sister Louise and brother Harry) to populate the supporting casts:
Joe, Myra and Louise appear in Paducah
while mom, sis and Harry headline Love Nest on Wheels (1937), an amusing short
(Buster’s last—and I realize I’m the minority regarding the laugh quotient on
this one) that recycles gags from Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle’s The Bell
Boy (1918) and even reunites him with Arbuckle nephew Al St.
John. Myra and Louise also appeared in
the manic Way Up Thar (1935), the two-reeler that served as Mack
Sennett’s directorial swan song but introduced Joan Davis to the silver screen
(the Sons of the Pioneers are also in this one, including a young Leonard
Slye…better known as Roy Rogers). This
delightful short is featured among the ample bonus extras included in this
six-DVD collection.
Other extras in the Keaton Educational collection include a
1957 appearance on Circus Time (I’m
pretty sure it’s 1957, since Paul Winchell introduces Buster and notes that The
Buster Keaton Story will be appearing in theatres soon) and a 1960’s
TV sketch with Buster, Lucille Ball (who met Keaton while she was at MGM and
became his devoted protégé) and Harvey Korman (as a cop). There’s also a 1926 one-reeler (a Kodascope
cut down) with Educational Pictures star Johnny Arthur—the poor man’s Charley
Chase—and if sounds like I’m being a bit snarky about this, the short, Home
Cured, is a blueprint for a later effort Chase made for Columbia in
1937, Calling
All Doctors. (Cured is included here because it was
directed by William Goodrich—who was none other than Keaton’s mentor, Roscoe
Arbuckle.)
When writing about Looser
Than Loose’s Lloyd Hamilton set I neglected to mention that there are a few
“Easter eggs” present on the discs; most of these are promotional shorts
released by the Jam Handy Company in the 1930s and 1940s, and can easily be
located on the Internets. The Keaton set
has an amusing one I hadn’t seen previously, a 1938 one-reeler for Chevrolet
called Back of the Mike, in which a
young boy listens intently to a radio Western serial, with the action switching
back-and-forth from a dramatization of the proceedings (what’s taking place in
the boy’s mind) to the same play being performed in a broadcast studio. It’s fun to watch—and highly recommended to
old-time radio fans—though I seriously doubt that a western serial program
would require the big honkin’ studio used in this short (not to mention the
hefty cast and crew to do voices and sound effects). If that’s not enough to inspire you to invest
in this collection, there’s always a public domain copy of Hollywood
Steps Out (1941), a Warner Brothers outing that features a cartoon
version of the Three Stooges doing their eye-poking and slapping to a conga
beat…and an animated Clark Gable reminding us: “Don’t go away, folks—this
oughta be good.” (I just wanted to see
if there were any Night Flight fans
in the audience.)
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