A Century Ago Today, Buster Keaton Began a Legendary Career with "One Week"

Scene from One Week (1920)

In the history of cinema, there have been few artists as significant as Buster Keaton. Much like Harold Lloyd, he was a man that made early films into death-defying acts, pushing the limits of what the human body can do. While he would later be known for films like The General, it's important to remember how things started, back when he was an upstart who had yet to change the world. It was a time when him building a house with his wife (Sybil Seely) could be one of the craziest, most innovative things to ever be put on two-reels.

On this day in 1920, Keaton struck out on his own for the first time with One Week: a 19 minute short that took sight gags to new innovative heights and only alluded to a madman who was going to push boundaries. Whether it was falling through the roof, breaking a ladder, or running out of a second-story door, Keaton proved within a matter of minutes why he was destined to be one of the most significant filmmakers in history. While he's gone on to make better, nobody would call his first outing lazy. If anything, it's a miracle that he made it to his second feature at all. 

For a century now, there has been talk about whether Keaton was one of the most unappreciated silent comedians. To be fair, there are likely dozens of names that have been forgotten as these films became lost to time. Though if one is talking solely in terms of influence and popularity, then yes. Keaton deserves more respect. Whereas Charles Chaplin found ways to elevate technique into these emotionally wrought stories, Keaton was the slapstick comedian, able to rival Lloyd with these memorable gags that have transcended his life. It was in part because of how he put his life at risk every time, and all for our enjoyment. Did he really need to have a building fall on him? No, but it's that type of brazen cinema that made him guaranteed to never grow old int he public's consciousness.

It could be that he was "old stone face," able to keep a straight face as he did everything. Still, as he stepped out of the shadow of former collaborator Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle, he began work on One Week, which takes a look at a marriage in its first week. The person driving their carriage (Joe Roberts) was her ex and thus set out to ruin their honeymoon period. They were moving into her new home, which is an IKEA-like creation that has to be built out of a box. What does the ex do? What any ex does, really. He changes the numbers so that the house has no choice but to look like it was out of an F.W. Murnau picture. 

That is what's forever beautiful about silent film. Because of its limitations with sound, it had to be as visual as possible. What Keaton creates (quite literally by hand in front of us) is a monstrosity of a house, but because it's a warped comedy, we're allowed to enjoy how the whole frame feels like it will fall right before us. The idea that anyone would be able to live in it is a delightful maze of confusion, where a doorframe can rotate the wrong direction, or the entire base spins the minute the wind picks up. These are physical gags that reflect something instinctual in the common man. It's all abusrd. We all have fixer-upper houses that we know of. But are they as bad as this?

Everything about this is brilliantly executed and finds Keaton, at least five times, looking like he's about to break every bone in his body. How he gets away with falling down a breaking ladder or falling from an elevated wooden board to a standing position is all astounding. It feels painful watching it, but he makes it all look effortless, and he's only getting warmed up. He has a whole career ahead of him where he will fine tune things. In Steamboat Bill, Jr. he will even go further by practically flying through the air like a ragdoll. He is a cartoon character come to life, putting himself at risk in ways that no man should. And that's what makes him brilliant.

Why it feels right to recognize One Week is solely because it was the launch of a great career, spanning decades that would only become more interesting, if just because of the idea that he's survived another stunt. You'd have to go to later works like Jackie Chan in Police Story to find another actor as willing to potentially die for his art. It's incredible that he manages to convey so much in such a short time, and does so with a largely silent story that feels universal. It's the struggle of man to find some safety in their lives only to find chaos collapsing on top of them. It's unfair, and we recognize that in Keaton.

To be honest, Keaton's entire body of work deserves more respect than it gets. He's much more than The General, and yet few other films have been as recognized in the decades since. Chaplin has several that are constantly cited as groundbreaking, while Keaton's memorable gags haven't. Still, Chaplin couldn't risk his limbs for any stretch of seconds in Keaton's work. He's a special case that started pushing boundaries and never let up. Even when he entered a later career where he was forced to play second fiddle in mediocre films, he clearly was still a legend worthy of recognition. It all began here, with a house and a base that's difficult to pin down. It's an amusing metaphor for his entire career, and it's fun to watch swing for the fences, creating maximalist entertainment that hits us at our core. We don't need to think of why he's funny. He just is.