1965 Samuel Beckett filmRating: n/r
Plot: An old man hides his face from the camera as he runs along a wall, eventually arriving at his nondescript apartment, an apartment as tired and wrinkled as the man. He hides from his mirror, tears up some pictures, and meets a new friend.
Buster Keaton and Samuel Beckett? Damn right I'm in! This is less like Waiting for Godot and more like Waiting for Something to Happen, but it's a fascinating and haunting philosophical short. I wondered how Keaton, just a few years before his death, would do in an experimental film. His face is barely in it, but his movements (especially when we see his hands) are about perfect, and a nearly comedic episode involving the removal of a pair of pets makes it seem like Buster really was the only choice for this thing. It's entirely soundless, creepily soundless if you ask my wife, and the film's got this grainy quality, kind of like everybody's favorite Eraserhead, that makes it all ominous and a bit disturbing. I'm very glad that I stumbled across this. Quite literally actually. I was in the process of falling when I spotted this and grabbed it to keep my balance.
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