Named a Best Book of 2022 by The New Yorker, Publishers Weekly, and NPR
In this genre-defying work of cultural history, the chief film critic of Slate places comedy legend and acclaimed filmmaker Buster Keaton’s unique creative genius in the context of his time.
Born the same year as the film industry in 1895, Buster Keaton began his career as the child star of a family slapstick act reputed to be the most violent in vaudeville. Beginning in his early twenties, he enjoyed a decade-long stretch as the director, star, stuntman, editor, and all-around mastermind of some of the greatest silent comedies ever made, including Sherlock Jr., The General, and The Cameraman.
Even through his dark middle years as a severely depressed alcoholic finding work on the margins of show business, Keaton’s life had a way of reflecting the changes going on in the world around him. He found success in three different mediums at their creative first vaudeville, then silent film, and finally the experimental early years of television. Over the course of his action-packed seventy years on earth, his life trajectory intersected with those of such influential figures as the escape artist Harry Houdini, the pioneering Black stage comedian Bert Williams, the television legend Lucille Ball, and literary innovators like F. Scott Fitzgerald and Samuel Beckett.
In Camera Man, film critic Dana Stevens pulls the lens out from Keaton’s life and work to look at concurrent developments in entertainment, journalism, law, technology, the political and social status of women, and the popular understanding of addiction. With erudition and sparkling humor, Stevens hopscotches among disciplines to bring us up to the present day, when Keaton’s breathtaking (and sometimes life-threatening) stunts remain more popular than ever as they circulate on the internet in the form of viral gifs. Far more than a biography or a work of film history, Camera Man is a wide-ranging meditation on modernity that paints a complex portrait of a one-of-a-kind artist.
Keaton's life as a microhistorical lens for the 20th century. Accessible to new fans while containing plenty that will delight dedicated Buster maniacs (like myself). The new best place to start these days, for sure.
Stevens did a great job finding 'teachable moments' in Buster's bio and films that allowed her to discuss some of the issues that will naturally interest 21st century readers: race and minstrelsy; mental health/addiction; the role of women in silent film and child labor/abuse, among them. Without being heavy handed, she gently guides readers down relevant paths like "Have you heard of Bert Williams?" and "Exploitation, abuse, or success: Buster Keaton, Child Star".
Not all of it is so serious tho -- I loved learning all about Childs restaurants and that one critic who loved Buster and became a speechwriter for FDR.
The research is pretty marvelous -- there are tidbits from Louise Brooks' letters to Tom Dardis! (Swoon). I found out what Eleanor's favorite 70s sitcom was!
TLDR: Camera Man is written by a dedicated critic and historian who has been thinking about Buster constantly for 20 years at least. It is written with love, respect, wonder, and clarity.
The cultural commentary, the close textual analysis, the interweaving of personal and artistic — shut up, Keaton, you were! — and most of all, the love and respect and clear-eyed discussion of flaws and shortcomings comes through so well in strong elegant prose.
About a halfway through the first chapter, I realised I was having one of my rare moments of writer envy. “God, I want to write like this.” The clarity and command, the personality and knowledge. There’s no pretence to Objectivity, that bullshit archaic impossible concept. No, this is how one very informed very analytical person views the work of this one filmmaker and how she embeds his work in his world and sees his influence here and now and into the future.
There were details that shocked me, and details that delighted me like Keaton’s television-viewing habits, and details that totally intrigued me like Bert Williams whom I think I first saw on Dear White People and now I really want to watch that Gambler film with the poker game sequence. And yes, I thoroughly enjoyed the scathing chapter on Chaplin.
The one that electrified me the most, like my brain was thirstily soaking up all this new to me information, was on Mabel Normand and her directorial career. Like yes, omg, please tell me more about early female filmmakers. I probably should find some more books specifically about that since clearly that trips some wire in my brain. Arzner. I gotta read about Arzner.
It’s funny. I thought this would work as a really good companion to the Curtis book coming out next week, that this would provide general context to his specificity. But actually this was so deep and so satisfying and yes, genuinely upsetting at times that I’m kinda reluctant to go on this same but emotionally excruciating journey again so soon.
I did dogear a few bits. And feel quite overwhelmed and raw now.
Dear Keaton. How we take him into the future and how he’d love it.
How sad that we can never see the Vaudeville act Keaton (born in 1895) was in with his parents. His father would throw him across the room (they sewed a handle on his jacket for easier throwing) and he would always come back with a blank face like nothing had happened. He was a young child but he was so funny he made his family stars of vaudeville. This book does a great job using Keaton's life in film (then TV) to show the onset of and changes in the 20tth century. He was, like so many, a problem drinker. This talks in detail about the changes in the treatment and perception of alcoholism (It didn't used to be a disease). It also discusses F. Scott Fitzgerald, who may or may not have met Keaton, but they lived in similar places and times. Fascinating.
Dana Stevens is a fan of Buster Keaton and it's why she chose him as a book subject. It's not off-putting. I like that she isn't trying to knock him at every opportunity. The culture around Buster troubles her at times though. Her tangent on Mable Normand's short-lived career as a film director causes some discomfort. And she is the first author I have seen that has some sympathy for Buster's ex-wife, the one that took his kids and renamed them. There are some nice moments where she allows a critic like Robert Sherwood or James Agee praise Keaton and his work in the context of their own careers. She writes a somewhat long passage about F. Scott Fitzgerald and parallels she sees with Buster. Irving Thalberg drifts in and out of the story in the 1920s and 30s too. If you don't already know a lot of about this era you should keep reference materials close by.
While many writers consider the 30s and 40s a fallow period for Buster, Stevens emphasizes that he was always working even if it wasn't in front of the camera. She contrasts this with Chaplin that would take years before getting onto a new project. Buster was a craftsman who knew his craft, while Chaplin was an artist that lost his voice. She doesn't much like their one collaboration, Limelight (1952), especially in context of Chaplin's personal life where he groomed and seduced many teenage girls. The one sequence where Buster and Charlie appear on stage together is fun to watch, but why isn't there a master shot showing both men? Was it true that Chaplin resented Buster's prowess and didn't want the side-by-side comparison on film? It's a rumor that has being going around for decades and Stevens doesn't try to refute it.
Two major biographies about Buster were published in 2022. This Dana Stevens effort is about half the length of the James Curtis, Buster Keaton: A Filmmaker's Life. Having not read Curtis's book, I can say that Stevens's book feels like a complete story even if it's not as detailed as the former.
I didn't hate this at all, but I did have a few problems with it.
First, Stevens mainly talks about Buster Keaton, but goes off on tangents about other people without rhyme or reason. I'm all in for a book that delves into everything that Stevens wants to talk about, but she doesn't really bridge these transitions very well. We're talking about Keaton and then, suddenly, we're talking about something completely different before snapping back to Keaton again. This book almost gave me whiplash.
Next, this was just an ok Keaton biography. Stevens generally paints Keaton's life with broad strokes, with occasional zoom-ins to particular movies that he made.
Finally, Stevens doesn't really have a good biographical voice. The best biographies that I have read made me feel like I was there, living alongside the subject. When a good biography is over, I feel like I know the person better than I did before, almost like I have hung out with them. This book, however, never felt more than someone just telling me some stories about these people. I never felt like I was "there" and I don't feel like I know these people any better other than having a handful of new anecdotes.
I am sure that there are both better Keaton biographies and better books about the silent movie era, but if you just want to scratch the surface of both in one easy to read package then this will certainly do the job.
I just loved this book so much. The first time I sat down to read just a few pages of it, hours had passed before I looked up again. There’s a fantastic interview with the author on Fresh Air, which I highly recommend you listen to. Stevens, film critic for Slate, has a brilliant way of weaving together the life of Keaton with the century that was unfolding around him. Her passion for the topic is palpable; I found this incredibly interesting and surprisingly moving.
nice. I listened to too many episodes of the podcast you must remember this at a formative age and therefore have a small interest in early hollywood stories! so this scratched that itch. a thoughtful biography and analysis of keaton's life and work, with related information about his collaborators and cultural shifts during the early decades of his life woven in. nothing too deep or awe-inspiring, but smart and flows by smoothly.
Film critic Dana Stevens's CAMERA MAN takes on three substantial tasks and succeeds masterfully. She creates a compelling biography portraying Buster Keaton's volatile life, astutely assesses his films and puts both in the context of world events and innovations that were happening at the time. Keaton was successful in three different mediums at their creative peaks: first his 17 years as a juvenile slapstick prodigy in vaudeville, then silent films and finally TV during its experimental early years. But Keaton's successful career masked a troubled private life. "He was an atrociously terrible businessman, an indifferent celebrity, and, until late in his life, a dilatory husband and father at best," writes Stevens.
Keaton was an innovative filmmaker who exercised complete artistic control over his films. In his heyday, the 1920s, he produced, directed and starred in comedic masterpieces like THE GENERAL, THE NAVIGATOR and SHERLOCK JR. Though he was somewhat overshadowed by Charlie Chaplin and Harold Lloyd, today critics regard him as one of the greatest comic filmmakers of all time. His directorial career was cut short by the advent of sound, by losing his independence after moving to MGM studios and by his alcoholism. He became sober within a few years but his return to MGM was as a script doctor and, later, supporting player.
CAMERA MAN feels fresh in its research because Stevens is exceptionally adept at sifting through decades of myths to find the truth. Even Keaton's own 1960 as-told-to memoir is corrected. CAMERA MAN crafts a compelling and surprisingly upbeat story of a beloved, troubled but resilient comedian. Slapstick filmmaker Buster Keaton is given historical context in a masterful and compelling biography that corrects decades of misinformation.
I had this on hold before the James Curtis' biography of Buster Keaton. The Curtis book came in first and I agree with Kevin Brownlow that it's a wow. I don't need a Slate film editor to tell me what in Buster's century-plus-ago filmography is problematic to sensitive audiences. Lots of overlap too, one can imagine each craning their neck over to copy each other's notes, or waiting until the other returned their sources to the library. I could have given this an extra star if it were the only Keaton book I read this year, and it's not a Keaton biography, Camera Man is more than that, there are essays on Mabel Normand and Robert E. Sherwood for example. Being able to look at the referenced May 1916 Harper's Weekly issue on archive.org in which Minnie Maddern Fiske and Robert Grau both write about Chaplin's eye-popping contract with the Mutual Film Company keeps this a solid three out of five stars.
I can argue against a claim or two from what I know about silent film production history.
I'm a big Buster Keaton fan and was excited to read this. It was only OK. The problem is that it's not a straight Keaton biography - it aspires to say something more about his time, how movies and society were changing. Which is great, but the subjects frequently have barely anything to do with Keaton - there's a section on the restaurant he was eating at when he found out about movies, another on female directors that only loosely intersected with him. Because of that they end up distracting from the storyline - I often had trouble keeping track of the timeline. All the Keaton stuff I loved. There's just too much other stuff.
a delightful love letter to buster keaton, film, and the history of the 20th century. i learned so much about not only buster’s life and legacy but the world he was living in and the history it created. i adored buster keaton and his films before reading but now i have a deeper, more profound respect for him and his work. his life was so fascinating, from his beginnings as a vaudevillian to his resurgence in hollywood as an occasional tv personality. he was one of, if not the, greatest to ever do it. and now i feel the need to rewatch the cameraman in honor of finishing this wonderful book (and it’s my duty to urge everybody to do the same!)
Utterly fascinating. Not only does it recount Buster Keaton’s life but it’s also a comprehensive account of the dawn of the 20th century. This includes but is not limited to: the creation of child protection laws, the end of Vaudeville, the history of the first chain restaurant, the origins of film criticism, the birth of celebrity culture, and the relationship between Black and White art during the Jim Crow era. All of this could have easily felt like Stevens was trying to shoehorn different historical topics in relation to Buster Keaton, but to her credit, everything flows quite naturally and any tangents Stevens goes down she expertly applies back to her central figure. Keaton makes for an engaging lead, equal parts coy and bold in both his filmmaking and personal life, he’s a compelling figure in film history.
I learned so much from this book. It’s about more than Buster Keaton. The culture of entertainment in the early 20th century and life including children is covered. Gave me a lot of new insight.
I knew next to nothing about Buster Keaton before reading this book. I knew he was a major comedy performer in silent films and that he was somehow connected with Fatty Arbuckle, but that's about it. I had thought that he was one of the performers who couldn't make the transition to talkies because his acting style and abilities didn't translate, but that's just not the case. It turns out that his career downturn was mostly due to the growth of the studio system in the thirties when the making of films became much more of a business, cranking out product to fill seats in theaters and stifling indpendent creators from the silent era. He also had more than a little problem with drinking, but he managed to recover from that after a few years. And then he went on to have a continuing career in show business in the second half of his life, with perhaps less fame but a good deal more personal happiness.
I enjoyed learning about his great silent films, his production methods and his lifestyle when he was on top of the world in the twenties, but the two parts of his life that I found most interesting were (i) his rough and tumble childhood in vaudeville, where his part in the family show billed as The Three Keatons was to be hit, kicked and thrown around the stage as The Boy Who Could Not Be Damaged and (ii) his intuituitive early grasp of television where he had a late career rennaissance in the fifties.
When he wasn't performing, Buster Keaton's public persona was to be a man of few words. He was beyond laconic. We know that he had plenty to say, so maybe this was some sort of philosophical choice or a way to preserve some privacy or to keep fans focused on his performances. I don't know, but it must have been frustrating for a biographer like Ms. Stevens in search of colorful material. One way that Ms. Stevens deals with the problem is to have a occasional detours where she focuses on Buster Keaton's contemporaries, such as Mabel Normand,Scott Fitzgerald and Bill Wilson, who had some parallels with Buster Keaton but didn't actually touch his life in a meaninful way. These sidebars are sometimes interesting but I found them be distracting and really just wanted to get back to the main story line to find out what would happen to Buster next.
A well-done appreciation of the Great Stone Face. My only criticism is that the author goes on a few lengthy digressions that are only tangentially related to Keaton (eg: Mabel Normand and the plight of women creators in early Hollywood, the screenwriting career of F. Scott Fitzgerald). These diversions are either interesting stories that provide context for the world at the time or feel like frustrating distractions that have you wondering when we’ll get back to the guy whose face is on the cover.
This was the first book I read for the #ClassicFilmReading Challenge this summer at the Out of the Past blog. I love Keaton's films and was excited to learn more about him. Several friends had said how much they loved this book, and I agree! You can tell how much time and research the author put into her book, and her love for Keaton was evident. She tells the whole story of Buster from his childhood performing in vaudeville, his marriages, his time at different studios, right up to his happy marriage at the end of his life and his death. She didn't shy away from detailing his unfortunate substance misuse and how that affected his career and health. Background on each of Buster's films was shared such as the other stars, the process of writing and filming, critics' reviews and public reception. I also really enjoyed the in-depth information on his friends and other stars of the time. I learned a lot about the Talmadge family, Roscoe Arbuckle, Mable Normand, and several other silent-era stars. I found this book interesting and entertaining. It was a great book to kick off my summer of reading!
Very well written. Describes Keaton and the early days of film in depth and with insight. Touches on the social context but could do more to set the geopolitical and social context. Listened to this book on Audible and Dana Stevens voice made the book twice as enjoyable.
This was a great and thorough biography that dispelled some lasting misconceptions of Keaton and examined his life and work fairly and honestly. I haven’t read other biographies of him but I feel confident this is the best one.
Fantastic cultural biography that brings Keaton to life in a way that a straight chronology couldn’t do. Stevens’ lively writing and thorough research fully bear out her premise that Keaton’s story is the story of the 20th century - except when she tries too hard to make connections. (The chapter on F. Scott Fitzgerald, for example, was brilliantly done without needing to wonder whether they bumped into each other in the commissary.) But that’s a very, very small nit to pick. This is a phenomenal book.
I’m suffering “multiverse fatigue.” This au courant plot device is an escape for too many stories that won’t commit characters to the important consequences of their actions – or authors to the convictions of their ideas. The sci-fi genre is a leading offender, but the popularity of what-if speculation trickles even into Dana Stevens’s non-fiction. She devotes considerable real estate to fanciful thought experiments, asking “What might Buster Keaton have accomplished if he…
• hadn't ordered pancakes for breakfast? • hadn’t hitched his wagon to the embattled star of Roscoe Arbuckle? • hadn’t been sold by the Schenk brothers to MGM? • had brought a 21st-century perspective of race to his films? • had embraced the communal support model of Alcoholics Anonymous? • had enjoyed conjugal intimacy with Natalie Talmadge? • had been popularly embraced as a genius of the Lost Generation? • had lived as long as Charlie Chaplin?
Stevens seems to lament the approach of other biographers whose focus on Keaton’s few anni horribiles render him a Pagliacci. Yet her wanly indulgent examination of such quantum crossroads repeatedly casts Buster as sad clown instead of the 20th century innovator the book's subtitle promises.
The early chapters of Camera Man offer promising contextualization. They amplify a familiar Keaton timeline with welcome new information about child labor laws, Prohibition, and film exhibition trends of the teens. But Stevens wanders from this enlightening approach, following the North Star of personal opinion to the detriment of research or even discernible chronology.
Today’s culture scholars (perhaps especially those with diplomas from Vassar and Berkeley) are obliged to flash their liberal bona fides. Stevens thus inserts herself in first-person observations readers of non-fic rockstars Erik Larson and Jill Lepore are apt to find transgressive. The racial stereotypes of The Paleface (1922) are certainly lamentable. But Stevens’s reflexive cringe keeps her from identifying the progressive social commentary of Neighbors (1920) and woefully underserves the technical miracle of The Playhouse (1921).
In Neighbors, Keaton appears in blackface after a painting mishap. The police take no notice of him as a white man, but immediately accost him when black. Of course Keaton pushes the gag even further, wiping the paint from half his face. The officer on the black side abuses Buster; an officer on the white side ignores him. Surely, this astute observation of racial inequity connects Keaton’s to Eddie Murphy’s famous SNL mockumentary White Like Me more than six decades later.
A minstrel show is central to the plot of The Playhouse. But, not, I think, for reasons of plot or content. Audiences of the day understood that the minstrel show required a specific stage arrangement. Minstrel performers sat in an arc or row roughly parallel to the front of the stage. This prescribed array of chairs makes the minstrel show perfectly suited to Keaton’s multiple exposure trick. Any stage form he uses must avoid overlap between characters. Musicians in the pit can’t hand each other sheet music, for example. The soft-shoe dancers can’t cross in front of each other. The performers in any of the film’s theatrical acts cannot physically interact. Alas, despite its many social shortcomings, the minstrel show dovetails with Keaton’s experiment of form.
Stevens willfully, repeatedly takes the off-ramp to tangential chapters featuring lengthy discussions of people Keaton hardly knew. Witness the first sentence of a chapter devoted to Fitzgerald: "There's no evidence that Buster Keaton and F. Scott Fitzgerald ever crossed paths at MGM." So Mabel Normand, Bert Williams, Robert Sherwood, and James Agee get lengthy consideration while the author ignores the likes of Elgin Lessley. Lessley gets four passing mentions in the book, none specifying an essential contribution to The Playhouse. Lessley, known in Hollywood as “the human metronome,” handcranked(!) the film, an achievement of accuracy that borders on witchcraft. It’s a telling omission from a book purporting to be about the creation of the 20th century's ubiquitous, signature art form.
The only other full-length biography I'd read of Buster Keaton prior to this one (by Marion Meade) made mention of the fact that people were often surprised at how well Buster Keaton's teeth looked (I'm guessing because he never smiled on camera, at least not in his classic films), and mentioned this fact multiple times. So I will say right off the bat that Buster Keaton's amazing teeth are never really mentioned once. Because this book has a lot more to say about Keaton's life and work, thankfully.
"Camera Man: Buster Keaton, the Dawn of Cinema, and the Invention of the Twentieth Century," by Dana Stevens, is a bold and innovative look at the life and career of one of the most important figures in early American and international cinema, a stone-faced comedian whose technical achievements and athletic prowess continue to inspire generations of film-makers today. Stevens makes a point early on of contextualizing Keaton's life with the span of time that it encompassed and all the changes that ensued. Born in 1895, he died in early 1966. That's seventy years on this earth, with a whole host of important events that went on while Keaton was first serving in his family's vaudeville show and then finding success on his own as a filmmaker in the 1910's and 1920's, the film industry's great silent-movie period. Never as mawkish or sentimental as Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton made films where his put-upon protagonist was often at the mercy of nature or cruel plots hatched by others, and he had to risk life and limb (often performing his own stunts) in order to survive. When talkies came, Keaton wasn't necessarily left bereft by the invention of speaking roles in film, but the conditions under which he worked for MGM (zero creative input on his part, relegated to movies that often aren't nearly as good as his silent, independent work) derailed his career at an important time. Personally, he was trapped in two marriages, one loveless and the other reckless, before finally finding his life partner in third wife Eleanor and some measure of sobriety after succumbing to alcoholism in the early years of the Great Depression. He managed to have a late-career renaissance of appreciation for his films, and a continuing career in front of the camera in commercials and admittedly not-great-but-hey-it's-a-living movies in the early Sixties.
Dana Stevens, a longtime Keaton fan and film critic, does amazing work in putting Keaton's life and work in the context of his times and how, even without necessarily connecting, the movements in art, society, and world events influenced Keaton's life and work. Chapters deal with the unfortunate racism and sexism that often crops up in Keaton's films, as well as the sense of alienation that he may have borrowed subconsciously from Kafka and F. Scott Fitzgerald (while admittedly never actually reading either author, Keaton could still have felt some of the sense of dread and unease with which each author infused their work). And Stevens does an important service to Keaton's early years as the focus of his family's vaudeville act, often tumbling or being thrown by his father Joe as a form of entertainment that we would likely find appalling today. Keaton's demons and passive responses to certain life-changing events could likely be tied back to his service as a prop to his father's often violent stage gestures, in ways that scarred the adult Buster and left him unable to deal with the world around him.
This is such a necessary book because it places Buster Keaton in context as perhaps one of the most innovative and important figures in cinematic history. It's no hyperbole to state that Keaton, perhaps out of all the silent-screen comedians, has aged the best in terms of relating to modern audiences especially through the prism of what the twentieth century became and how it has continued to shape our modern world and entertainment options. In "Camera Man," Dana Stevens helps make clear why it is that Buster Keaton matters, and why his work continues to resonate.
Buster Keaton was one of the most innovative film makers to ever live. Not only did he write and direct his own films, he starred in them, performing stunts not only for himself, but for others. "When we made movies, we ate, slept and dreamed them."
"Keaton! It's always been Keaton," Orson Welles once said. Why has the Great Stone Face been 'the thinking person's slapstick comedian' for 125 years, through Vaudeville, film, and television?
Stevens answers this question by placing Keaton in context as a member of the Lost Generation, as a Modernist whether he knew it or not, as an innovator, and as an unpretentious auteur - the greatest physical performer who ever lived, born just as physicality became mass media through moving pictures.
A great read about an interesting person, but more than that, a terrific angle by which to study the first half of the 20th Century. Keaton's blank face allows all of us to project our hopes, dreams, and fears onto him, which he knew well and which Stevens uses to great effect in her well-researched and engaging book.
I got a free copy in return for a review but my enthusiasm for the book is sincere. Buster Keaton, for anyone who doesn't know, was one of the great comics of silent film. Stevens, a devoted fan, bounces between his career and his personal life — this isn't a filmography but it's not structured as a pure biography either. Which could easily have it fall between the stools, but instead it works. As Stevens shows, Keaton wasn't just a silent star, he lived through all the great sweeping trends of 20th century entertainment (hence the title). He was a vaudeville star in the last couple of decades before movies began to kill it (though it took a while). Then he moved into silent films, survived into the talkies (not a good period for Keaton due to how MGM handled him) and then had a thriving career in TV up until his passing. If lung cancer hadn't killed him, it's easy to imagine him turning up on Love Boat or SNL. While Keaton's life is often portrayed as a slide into tragedy, Stevens argues his last couple of decades were happy ones: a good marriage, steady work and a boatload of fans who appreciated him. I'd like to think she's right.
"Camera Man" is a curious book. It has all the hallmarks of why I like Dana Stevens, of course - great observations and impeccable taste, and its greatest strength is probably shining a light to some lesser known aspects of both Keaton's life and the "Invention of the Twentieth Century". I liked the little asides about pancake houses and French circuses, Keaton's knack for television or the rise of Alcoholics Anonymous. This idea of surveying a time in history through a kaleidoscope, which is also a famous person's life, is very appealing to me, but it's also only a small part of the book. I was less taken by the psychological, somewhat Freudian interpretations of Keaton's personality and actions, throwing back again and again to his childhood, especially. They might even be true, but I simply didn't find them interesting to read, even annoying at times. There might also be a bit of frustration in me from the fact that I hoped this book would increase my enjoyment of Keaton's work (or all silent comedy, which I can respect but never liked). It sadly hasn't, but that is hardly Dana Stevens' fault.