Book details comedy shorts of Thelma Todd with ZaSu Pitts, Patsy Kelly

Review by Doug Gibson

With old comedy shorts, most are unknown to the average viewed (but not the genre fan). With the Hal Roach comedy shorts, Laurel and Hardy and Our Gang have become iconic. There were others, of course, as popular nearly 90 years ago.

Film authority James L. Neibaur recently penned "The Hal Roach Comedy Shorts of Thelma Todd, ZaSu Pitts and Patsy Kelly," McFarland, buy here. The past decade or so, I've occasionally seen Thelma Todd and Patsy Kelly shorts from the early and mid '30s as extras on TCM. I've enjoyed them. Recently, a DVD of Todd's shorts with Pitt was released. There is also a collection of the Todd and Kelly shorts.

Todd made 17 shorts with Pitts, and 21 with Kelly. Thelma Todd was a beautiful blonde and was the "It" girl in the shorts. Pitts was more fluttery and hesitant, Kelly more brassy and impetuous. All were extremely talented comic actors and the shorts were popular. Neibaur uses a successful formula that he has done in other books. He provides early bios of the principles, a detailed account of each film history, along with summaries, tidbits from production and the stars' lives, reviews, and what the stars were doing between comedy shorts. All were pretty in other films, Roach often giving his actors time to work at other studios as Hal Roach studio did take hiatuses.

One of the best Todd/Pitts shorts is 1931's "On the Loose." It's not because it has a cameo of Laurel & Hardy, although it's a funny scene. I like it because it exemplifies the strength of the Todd/Pitts/Kelly series. They are working women in the midst of The Great Depression, roommates trying to balance economic survival and looking for a good man. Neibaur notes that the films serve as a time capsule, a glimpse into the times. In "On the Loose," Coney Island is featured (the stars are tired of their dates constantly taking them there). I love the scenes of the park in 1931. You can watch "On the Loose" below:

My favorite Todd/Kelly short is "Babes in the Goods," from 1934. Again, the pair are working girls struggling to hold onto a job during tough economic times. They are tasked with setting up a department store window with hilarious results. Kelly really shines in this role.

I spent hours poring through Neibaur's book, thoroughly enjoying the recaps of the shows. I don't have the DVDs so I Googled shorts and was able to find a lot to watch at YouTube and DailyMotion. The history of the stars is interesting. Pitts left amicably to pursue more features work. Todd died tragically in late 1935, in a car of carbon monoxide poisoning. Although theories abound, we'll probably never know if it was a suicide, accident, or murder. Kelly, Neibaur notes, lived as an open lesbian in 1930s Hollywood. She suffered sand inhalation in a car wreck in the 1930s and was told she only had 10 years to live. That was wrong; she lived several decades longer.

After Todd's death, there were three films left on contract. Pert Kelton starred with Kelly in one and the final two matched Kelly with Russian-born Lyda Roberti. Roach was pleased enough with Kelly and Roberti to star the pair in a film. However, health problems forced Roberti to retire from acting after that feature and she died in 1938.

Neibaur has written a gem of a film history book here and it merits a successful release. It can also be purchased, including via Kindle, at Amazon here.

As I have noted, I think these shorts blended realism with humor. Women probably could identify with these stories of struggling individuals living through tough times and trying to find love and economic success. I hope Turner Classic Movies will provide viewers several hours of the Thelma Todd, ZaSu Pitts and :Patsy Kelly shorts. (Below is a photo of Pitts (left)  and Todd in the film, "On the Loose."

The Clint Eastwood Westerns – by James L. Neibaur

Review by Steve D. Stones

Although I was not alive in the 1960s when Sergio Leone's Italian westerns came to the United States, I'll never forget seeing A Fistful of Dollars (1964) for the first time in the early 1990s. I was completely mesmerized by the stylized qualities of the film, the more violent approach to depicting the old American West and the iconic poncho worn by Eastwood's character. Leone's view of the American West was far removed from anything I had seen in a John Ford or Howard Hawks western. This excited me and made me thirst for more of these films.

In his 2015 book – The Clint Eastwood Westerns (Rowman & Littlefield Publishers), (link is here) author James L. Neibaur sheds light on many details of Eastwood's acting and directing careers in western films. It is a pleasure to read not only because it goes into details about the Italian westerns Eastwood did with Leone, but the book also covers Eastwood's early TV career as Rowdy Yates in Rawhide, as well as projects Eastwood accomplished between his western films, such as the iconic Dirty Harry films.

Neibaur points out the many similarities of Eastwood's “Man With No Name” in the Italian westerns to many of his later screen roles, such as Dirty Harry (1971), and even his early Don Siegel collaboration – Coogan's Bluff (1968), in which Eastwood plays a simple Arizona lawman in pursuit of a criminal tracked to New York City.

In Coogan's Bluff, Eastwood lays the foundation for many of the character traits found in his Dirty Harry Callahan character. He is a cynical outsider who works within the system, but hates all the rules and protocols of the system itself. In in sense, he is a cowboy of the past placed into the metropolis of our modern world.

As a fan of the Italian westerns, I often wondered why Eastwood's character in the three westerns he made with Leone were all named differently. I assumed all three characters were supposed to be the same man. Neibaur points out why the character had a different name for each film. Eastwood is a loner in the first film (A Fistful of Dollars), and duo in the second film (For A Few Dollars More) and part of a trio in the third film (The Good, The Bad & The Ugly). In A Fistful of Dollars, he is referred to as “Joe” by the town coffin maker. In A Few Dollars More, he is called “Manco.” He is known simply as “Blondie” in The Good, The Bad & The Ugly.

Neibaur points out that A Fistful of Dollars was produced by Jolly Films. This company had a falling out with director Leone and did not become involved with the sequel – For A Few Dollars More. Jolly Films sued, claiming rights to the “Joe” character in A Fistful of Dollars. It was decided in court that a unknown gunfighter, bounty killer character, such as “Joe,” cannot be copyrighted, so therefore he exists in the public domain. Giving Eastwood the “Manco” name in For A Few Dollars More may have been a way to try and not connect the two characters in any way.

Although the Italian westerns of Leone and Eastwood were a box office smash worldwide, their relationship was quite strained by the time The Good, The Bad & The Ugly wrapped up production in 1966, as Neibaur points out in the book. So strained, in fact, that when Eastwood was offered the Harmonica role (later given to Charles Bronson) in Once Upon A Time In The West (1969), Eastwood turned it down after a meeting with Leone that went poorly.

The book would not be complete without placing some focus on Eastwood's great accomplishments as an American director. As with his mentors Sergio Leone and Don Siegel, Eastwood became a master of his directing craft, and went on to direct some of the greatest westerns in cinema history, such as High Plains Drifter (1973), The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976), which many consider his greatest directed western, Pale Rider (1985) and the crown of his western film achievements – Unforgiven (1992), in which he won a Best Director Oscar. The American Film Institute has listed Unforgiven as the fourth greatest western in cinema history, right after The Searchers (1956), High Noon (1952) and Shane (1953).

If you are a fan of Clint Eastwood westerns, I recommend James L. Neibaur's book – The Clint Eastwood Westerns. Happy reading.

The W.C. Fields Films provides solid account of comic's career

Review by Doug Gibson

Genre author James L. Neibaur has done his usual, solid, well-researched, enjoyable recap of a film great with "The W.C. Fields Films," (here) recently published by McFarland, http://www.mcfarlandbooks.com/ (800-253-2187).

Harry Langdon and Buster Keaton are among performers whom Neibaur has assessed. As with the others, the Fields book covers his films, chapter by chapter. Serving as bookends are an opening chapter on Fields' early life and work in vaudeville, and the final chapter covers his last years.

Neibaur is a talented enough researcher and writer to have the film chapters also provide a chronology of Fields' life. The plots, filmmaking intrigues, reviews, box office fates, cast reminiscing, also includes snippets of Fields' personal life, including his frequent health problems as he aged.

If you are a casual fan of Fields, like myself prior to reading this volume, you'll learn that he was a major vaudeville star who dipped his toes into films a little and then several years later, made the full leap, astutely realizing that was where the future, and money was. Some of the early silent films were remade in the sound era. A couple, both remade, that are on my list to see are "Running Wild" and "Sally of the Sawdust." (Remade as "Man on the Flying Trapeze" and "Poppy.")

Neibaur also notes that Fields struggled at times with silent films. Regretfully, some are lost, including all three of an ill-fated attempt to team Fields with comedian Chester Conklin. Ultimately, it was sound that moved Fields to higher stardom. Neibaur correctly points out that Fields' understated delivery of his lines became very popular with audiences. In fact, aside lines like Fields (in "The Bank Dick") muttering that he loves daughters, particularly those between 16 and 18, is dialogue that I don't think censors would have allowed less subtle actors to utter.

Fields' glory days were with Paramount, his shorts, including 'The Dentist" and films such as "It's' a Gift" and "Man on the Flying Trapeze," are classic gems. He had the ability to play a put-upon father, a conniving boozer father, a con man father and guardian, and still provide sympathy with audiences. Also, pairing Fields with a loud, overbearing spouse prone to overly loud proclamations was usually comic gold. Neibaur also notes Fields's care in determining the plots and dialogues of his films; a demand that perceptive directors usually followed.

Fields' is also an actor whose health deterioration one can track through his two decades of stardom. In "The Dentist," he's still relatively trim. By his last film, the offbeat, eccentric, original "Never Give a Sucker an Even Break," he's a bloated, obese man with a large, alcoholic red nose. His Paramount and Universal tenures were cut short by bad health and poor health practices. Tragedy always affected his health adversely, from friends' deaths to a toddler drowning in a pond on his property.

In his book, Neibaur includes Fields successful comeback with Universal, with films such as "My Little Chickadee," a must-see with Mae West (The two egos survived peacefully long enough to make a great film), "The Bank Dick," and "Never Give a Sucker an Even Break," a brilliant satire that Universal failed to understand, and played as a second-feature.

Prior to reading this book, I'd only seen Fields in "International House," which I bought to see Bela Lugosi," "The Dentist," "My Little  Chickadee," and "It's a Gift," a film I've seen at least 20 times. The "W.C. Fields Films" has a lot of company with other great books about Fields. It serves however as a great source to learn more about the unique vintage comedy star, one of the few silent veterans to prosper in the sound era.

Since I read this book, I've seen several more films with Fields. Some of my favorites include "It's a Gift," "Man on the Flying Trapeze," "The Bank Dick" and "Never Give a Sucker an Even Break."

The prolific Mr. Neibaur, by the way, will soon have a book out on the Universal monster films.

An interview with James L. Neibaur, author of The Silent Films of Harry Langdon: 1923-1928

At the newspaper I work for, The Standard-Examiner, I have posted a review of two books, "The Silent Films of Harry Langdon: 1923-28," by James L. Neibaur, and "Chaplin's Vintage Year: The History of the Mutual Chaplin Specials," by Michael J. Hayde. The review can be read here at StandardNET. It will be published in print on March 16, 2014.

Here is an interview with James L. Neibaur, author of the Langdon book, from Scarecrow Press (link here), who was kind enough to answer these questions.

1) How did Harry Langdon go from a silent comedian eager to take direction from Mack Sennett and content to slowly develop his comic persona to one who felt strong enough to make out-of-the mainstream films such as Three's a Crowd and The Chaser? 

Neibaur: When Harry Langdon was new to movies he accepted the scripts and direction and did what he could with them based on his years of experience on stage.  When he made Pluck of the Irish, he found that director Harry Edwards would ask for his input and ideas, so Langdon used the elements of his established character more discernibly in this film.  That character was even further honed in subsequent movies.


2) What elements of Harry Langdon's edgy vision are in Tramp, Tramp, Tramp and The Strong Man?

Neibaur:  In Tramp Tramp Tramp , once he is convinced to enter the foot race that is the body of the film, his absolute focus on the task despite all obstacles there are surreal coincidences that compound to ultimately turn out in Harry's favor.  Perhaps the edgiest scene is when his rival convinces him to consume enough drugs and alcohol to kill him.  On the surface this is merely a setup to the next scene where a groggy Harry must be awakened the following morning to compete in the race.  But the idea of this child-man innocently and trustingly swallowing what amounts to a potentially fatal overdose is a good example of Langdon's edgy approach to his character.  A lesser comedian could not have pulled such a scene off as effectively.

In The Strong Man, there  are many instances where Harry focuses on one thing despite surrounding dangers.  In the battle scenes toward the beginning of the movie, Langdon is shown concentrating on a bothersome "cootie" so completely, he ignores the fact that enemy gunfire is whizzing about him.  When does realize he is under attack, he confidently pulls out a slingshot and fires back at them, never understanding the futility of such an action.  He is ensconced in his own surreal world where a child's toy from a child-man is an effective counter-action to bullets in the midst of a war. 


3) Critics of Harry Langdon have referred to Three's A Crowd as a pale attempt to imitate Chaplin's The Kid. I personally disagree but what is your response to those critics?

Neibaur: It is interesting that these "critics" do not also believe that City Lights is a pale attempt to imitate The Strong Man.  I am sure Langdon was influenced by Chaplin's success with blending comedy and drama for greater depth, but Langdon's approach was far less romantic and far more edgy and surreal. 

4) Do you think that elements of Harry Langdon's personal life. The end of his marriage, his battles with Frank Capra, influenced his desire to make darker, edgier films that he must have known would lose money?

Neibaur: I don't think so.  From my perspective it would appear that Langdon's vision simply clashed with Capra's.  Langdon was more interested in surrealism and Capra more interested in folksy sentiment.  As Langdon enjoyed greater success and was allowed more creative freedom, he wanted to explore these ideas.  Capra was put off by them, but Arthur Ripley appears to have encouraged them.  I don't think he believed these would lose money, however. I think he felt there was an audience for his more radical and original ideas.  There was, but not within the massive throngs of the mainstream.

5) How many years of training and other experience did it take for Harry Langdon to perfect his unique form of silent comedy that relied on long pauses, gradual realization, and scenes that took longer to get a punchline across? Did he learn it in vaudeville or was it learned with Sennett?

Neibaur: I believe the character was already there, and Langdon honed it as he started making more films and was allowed increasingly greater creative input.  The idea that he was a simple minded guy who was guided through every movement by others, and he had essentially no creative will or input of his own, is a long held story that is completely false.

EXTRA QUESTION: If you have time. How does Long Pants serve as a bridge between Langdon's Capraesque films and the later silent ones? And I'm haunted by Harry's expression at the end of Long Pants. What do you think his character is saying?

Neibaur: Capra wanted to continue with the more sentimental approach that had occurred in The Strong Man, while Ripley enjoyed exploring more offbeat ideas.  Langdon's vision was more similar to Ripley's.  He wanted to place his childlike screen character is more offbeat situations (like being court ordered to assume the female role of the household in THE CHASER, or attempting to murder his fiancee in LONG PANTS).   More interested in art than artifice, Langdon followed his creative vision without regard to box office success.  I don't think his character at the end of LONG PANTS is saying anything, actually, I think it is just a simple expression of remaining mired in a surreal world that would continue in the same way as his life went on.

The Fall of Buster Keaton book traces comic legend's career in talkies

Review by Doug Gibson

In 1933, after former silent movie comic star Buster Keaton -- still an A talkie star -- had been canned by MGM for drunkeness, the trade papers announced that Keaton was heading to Florida, at a fat salary, to star in independent films. Keaton, it was reported, would have creative freedom (a luxury he did not have at MGM, despite the films' success.)

It sounded great, but it was too good to be true, as genre author James L. Neibaur recounts in "The Fall of Buster Keaton: His Films for MGM, Educational Pictures, and Columbia," 2010, Scarecrow (Buy). The independent project was underfunded, and the studio in Florida was fit for only two-reelers. Things collapsed and Keaton found himself unemployed long before a would-be film could even pass pre-production.

This anecdote is not important for the project's collapse, many a film star has seen a production close early. What makes the Florida effort interesting is that it was the last serious chance that Buster Keaton ever had to be a star of high-budget "A" films. Although Keaton would work for another 33 years, literally until his death, he would not star in a major film.

Keaton, who literally started vaudeville as a toddler, was discovered in part by Fatty Arbuckle and became a major silent comedian star. "The General," for example, is considered among the top two or three silent film comedy features. Keaton's stony facial expression hid an ingenuity and determination that surprised and pleased audiences when he achieved success, whether in love, money, or other goals.

But that history in the book is finished quickly. Neibaur is interested in explaining why Keaton, just two-decades plus later, was considered ideal to play himself as a has-been actor in the classic "Sunset Boulevard." At first, things looked promising for Keaton, as he signed -- in the waning days of silents, a star contract with MGM. Despite not having the final decisions, Keaton thrived with MGM silents, such as "The Cameraman," and "Spite Marriage," and even displayed talkie talent in MGM pre-code films, including "Doughboys," and "Speak Easily," in which he was paired with the loud, abrasive Jimmy Durante.

Nevertheless, Keaton melted down at MGM and, as mentioned, was canned after completing "What No Beer?" a so-bad-it-"improves"-on repeat-viewings movie. Durante is spectacularly unfunny, and Keaton is unfortunately drunk in many of the film's scenes. Keaton was AWOL during filming, had drunken rampages and MGM was glad to get rid of him. The film plays often on Turner Classic Movies, probably due to its time-capsule feel today as a glimpse at the last days of prohibition in the USA.

Neibaur recounts the various reasons that Keaton flamed out at MGM: A crumbling marriage to celebrity Natalie Talmadge, loss of creative control at MGM, a new acting persona that cast him as a buffoon rather than a determined underdog, and of course alcoholism. Being a drunk is what harmed Keaton's career. The rest are symptoms that drove him to the bottle, and unreliability.

One key strength of Neibaur's books is that there are in-depth recaps of the MGM, Educational and Columbia films Keaton made. A plus for readers is that Neibaur debunks a common perception that the Educational and Columbia shorts were all artistic failures. In fact, the author serves to rehabilitate Keaton's talkie shorts' image by extolling the virtues of short films such as "Allez Oop," "One-Run Elmer," "The Gold Ghost," "Jail Bait," (Educational) and "Pardon My Berth Marks," Pest From the West," "Nothing But Pleasure," (Columbia) and a few others. The author makes a convincing case that Keaton needs to be re-evaluated as a talkie comedy shorts talent..

To be fair, Keaton seemed to enjoy dissing his Educational and Columbia shorts over the last 20-plus years of his life. And during that era, comedy shorts commanded little respect in Hollywood. As Neibaur notes, one of the ironies of today is that the shorts of Keaton, and more notably The Three Stooges, are far better known than virtually all the features they played with. Nevertheless, it's true that one constant in both the Educational and Columbia shorts, as Neibaur notes, is that the quality of the series, after promising starts, dipped and a few duds found their way into production. It's hypothesized that Keaton's dissatisfaction with being in two-reel movie fillers may have dampened his initial enthusiasm after the contracts were signed

The Columbia era (late 1930s, early '40s) signified a consistent monetary comeback for Keaton. He would never earn cash similar to what he earned in his silents/MGM era, but after several years of being broke after his divorce, he added income with work as a gagman with the major studios and played featured parts and cameos in A and B productions. It as during this era that Keaton enjoyed a successful, until-death marriage with his wife Eleanor, and later benefited from the advent of television, something his colleagues Harry Langdon, Ben Turpin and Charley Chase did not live to enjoy. Some fans may recall Keaton's excellent guest role on a "Twilight Zone" episode that plays off his silent routines.

Besides TV and the occasional small role in a big film, Neibaur also devotes time to industrial films that Keaton made for executives and workers in companies. These were usually comedy couched in a film that dealt with training or promotion. As Keaton moved into his mid-60s, he received small, frankly demeaning roles, in the beach movies films, even playing an Indian. As Neibaur notes, it was money, and the chance to stay busy that motivated the senior citizen. Another film he had a cameo in was Stanley Kramer's "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World."

One reason I am very glad I read this book is that it sent me to YouTube to watch two films that Keaton completed only 15 or so months before his death in 1966 at age 70. The first is "The Railrodder," a silent color film, made by Canadian TV, that has Buster traveling across Canada via a track-speeder all the way to the Pacific Ocean. It may be the last comic silent short made and it's very funny, with Buster showing remarkable skills for a 68-69 year old man with "bronchitis."

The other film is a documentary on the making of "Railrodder," titled "Buster Keaton Rides Again." It's a treat for Keaton and genre fans as Buster's life on the set and production  is captured in detail, traveling across Canada, shooting the film, meeting fans, and most importantly, bantering with his wife, Eleanor, director Gerald Potterton, and the crew on the train in between scenes. He's a pleasant senior citizen,who smokes, talks, acts, interacts with fans and media, and thoroughly enjoys the attention he is receiving. He looks quite healthy at that time and he has the energy to argue with Potterton over how a shot should be done and win the argument. I absolutely love the scene where Buster explains the difference between a suspense shot and a comedy shot.

But getting back to Neibaur's detailed look at the final 35 years or so of Keaton's career. It's clear that the bad publicity from the MGM experience, although covered up well in the press, solidified Keaton's diminished status. The Educational years, although a steady paycheck, was also a time where Keaton was still heavily drinking, and that hurt comeback attempts. It's re-assuring that Keaton collected himself to stay busy, write gags for The Marx Brothers and others, get the drinking under control, get married, and continue acting. That was a triumph. Eventually, Keaton's "bronchitis" turned into cancer. But he worked virtually until his death at 70, dying a day or two after the cancer was diagnosed.

Genre books such as Neibaur's may have a tough time gathering circulation (they are very expensive) but if they can help to properly reassess Keaton's later comedies (Many of the Educationals are on YouTube and the Columbia series is inexpensively priced as a DVD) that is a enduring positive. We should appreciate the love that produces books of this dedicated scholarship.

Buster Keaton's last starring role -- Boom in the Moon

By Doug Gibson

I am reading James L. Neibaur's book "The Fall of Buster Keaton: His Films for MGM, Educational Pictures, and Columbia," (The Scarecrow Press, 2010) and I plan to review it soon. On page 177, he mentions Keaton's  role in an obscure Mexican comedy -- from 1946 -- called "El Moderno Barba Azul," or "Boom in the Moon." Neibaur says the film is best forgotten, and he's correct that it makes his low-budget comedy shorts seem like "The General" in comparison. However, I think it's worth a review; after all, it was Keaton's final starring role. So, here we go:

There's really no big reason to see Boom In the Moon ... unless you are a cult film fanatic. (And that's why we at Plan 9 Crunch are reviewing it) It's an  feature from 1946, made when Keaton was at the low point of his career (he later rebounded via TV and small roles and cameos in big-budget films). But in the mid-1940s, Buster Keaton was not working much.

But, first some background: In the 1920s, Keaton was among the kings of cinema comedy. But he had a drinking problem that became more acute when talkies came and he signed a multi-picture deal that included comedies with Jimmy Durante. To put it charitably, Durante's manic, often-unfunny rantings grated on Keaton's physical, stone-face comedy. Without any creative input, Keaton was portrayed as a buffoon and clown rather than an industrious underdog. During the making of their last film, "What No Beer?" Keaton was so drunk he trashed his dressing room and disappeared from the set for several days. After the film wrapped, MGM, his employer, canned Keaton.

After that, Keaton existed for almost 20 years in a grab-work-when-available world. His chief income was making comedy shorts for Educational Pictures and Columbia, as well as doing gag-man work for the bigger studios at $100 a week. Keaton's comedy shorts efforts were overshadowed by The Three Stooges and Little Rascals shorts.Also, Keaton felt the shorts were demeaning, as well. He had not starred in a film for a long time when he accepted the lead role in Boom in the Moon, or as it was known in Mexico, The Modern Bluebird ("El Moderno Barba Azul)

It is a very low budget, often strange movie starring Keaton and a bunch of mediocre Mexican actors. Buster plays a sailor in a lifeboat who drifts for weeks. He doesn't know that World War 2 is over and thinks he is in Japan when he lands in Mexico. He is immediately arrested and accused of being a killer of young girls. He's paired with another clownish prisoner (Angel Garasa). The pair are offered the choice of flying to the moon in a very goofy professor's rocket instead of execution. After a bunch of clowning they accept. Somehow the professor's very pretty niece (Virginia Seret) is in the rocket when it blasts off.

After a few days the rocket lands. The trio thinks they are on the moon, but they are really just a few miles from where they took off. The two convicts are cleared ... No more synopsis in case some readers want to watch the film. (It's hard to find. The best bet is to check amazon and ebay for used copies)

The first half is a little better than the last half because Keaton has the opportunity to use a lot of physical comedy, including a funny bit in his cell. The last half unfortunately allows too many actors to babble, including one Mexican actor -- playing a silly psychiatrist -- who will cause viewers to grind their teeth in pain at his performance. The rocket is so low budget that it would not have qualified for a C-movies serial in the 1930s. Still, Keaton occasionally, with his physical deadpan humor, comes off well in a few scenes. Ironically, Garasa, as Keaton's sidekick, is as nasal and annoying as Durante was with Keaton 15 years earlier.

Keaton has very little dialogue, and it's dubbed anyway in today's prints, although the others prattle on too much. Boom in the Moon could have been a lot better if it had been shot silent, and relied on Keaton's emotion and physical comedy. But that idea likely occurred to nobody in 1946.

The film was released theatrically in Mexico and played only in Spanish for 37 years, including U.S. TV on Spanish-speaking stations. It was briefly released via VHS with English dubbing in 1983. The release wasn't very long and the film has become a little hard to find. I'm glad I watched it -- I have wanted to for at least a decade. It was good to see Keaton starring in any feature in 1946. Despite the poverty-row film, Keaton still retained flashes of the great talent in the The General, The Camera Man, and Steamboat Bill Jr., etc.