Thoughts on The Cameraman - The march of progress

Last night the 95 degree heat and equally oppressive humidity caused a household retreat into the bedroom, where we decided to watch a DVD on the laptop. I selected a Buster Keaton silent (Spite Marriage (US UK)) - so we wouldn't have to worry about the volume being heard over the noise of the air conditioner.

This reminded me that a while ago I started taking notes for a series of posts that I wanted to do on Buster Keaton's The Cameraman.

One of the sight gags that runs through the film is the obvious inadequacy of Keaton's camera:


Throughout the film the other cameramen snicker at the thing, and you can tell from Keaton's possessiveness over the thing that he is aware that it is comparatively outdated. The thing is, to the contemporary viewer, they are all antiquated. That's one of the neat aspects to watching old movies - you get the chance to see how things were done. How things worked. What things were like.

A third of the way through the film, we see a breakneck fire engine ride through the streets of New York.


Many of the buildings that we pass by are gone. The cars on the street have probably all been recycled (most likely in World War Two) or are at the bottom of a landfill somewhere. Except for perhaps some of the children, everyone we whiz by on the sidewalk is now dead.

Of course, that's not to say that I didn't enjoy the film. I certainly didn't sit there for the whole thing going "He's dead. She's dead. So's he. Dead." It's just that every once in a while, I felt a little pang. Of course, I also realize that a century from now someone is going to be thinking the same thing while watching Plane Full of Snakes or something. For some reason this makes me smile.