The Saphead is Buster Keaton’s debut in feature length films, and though he didn't direct or write, there are already some familiar Keaton elements here. Most strikingly, there’s the deadpan, impassive face that confronts situations with a blank gaze and, by a series of unlikely events, leads the character out of adversity. He wins a fortune gambling in this film, yet he remains unmoved, in fact unaware. His social disconnect is so great that he follows the rules in a book to woo Agnes, oblivious to the fact that she loves him for who he is rather than for the caddish behavior his book counsels; later, when he tries to engage the society of stock exchange traders, he completely misunderstand the rules. This impassive, fumbling figure is the Keaton we’ll see lots more of in the coming decade.
Keaton becomes the emotional center of this movie even though Blaché doesn’t give him much latitude and doesn't support him adequately. The director allows Keaton to perform, but Blaché's direction lets the air out of scene after scene. For example, when Bertie is trying to get arrested, he’s continually repulsed by a cop he’s unwittingly bribed. This is a flat scene that, if Blaché had put some energy into, has the potential to be as funny as the concluding one in the stock exchange. And while Saphead has plenty of melodramatic elements – the looming revelation of Mark’s infidelity, the sudden loss and recovery of a fortune –Blaché seems unable to crank the melodrama enough to engage the audience. Instead, it’s the audience’s engagement with Bertie that keeps us involved in the film. He’s a small, cute, agile and clueless character, all of which makes us root for him in every challenge he faces.
Nor does Blaché avail himself of the elements of cinematic storytelling that were already in use in 1920. There is no camera movement in Saphead, and Blaché uses crosscutting sparingly, and then only in service to the story. Griffith could build a sequence to powerful suspense by crosscutting, but Blaché, for example, inserts a scene of a dying Henrietta only to explain why her letters are appearing at Bertie’s wedding. Likewise, Blaché crosscuts Agnes’ arrival at home with Bertie’s waiting for her at the station, but his purpose here is only storytelling rather than suspense or humor. Blaché doesn’t inject energy into this film with his direction, so if Saphead seems overly even-keeled, the responsibility for this lies much more with Blaché rather than Keaton, who carries the film the distance it goes.
Slow or not, The Saphead rewards us with a hugely empathetic Buster Keaton whose impassivity, incomprehension, and misunderstanding of his environment make the audience want to take his side in every scene he’s in. Here in 1920, we see the Keaton we’ll really love in the next few years.
