The Cameraman (1928)
By 1928, Buster Keaton had spent the better part of a decade building one of the most remarkable bodies of work in American cinema. Films like The General and Sherlock Jr. had established him not merely as a popular comedian but as a genuinely inventive filmmaker, someone who understood the camera as an instrument for physical comedy in a way few directors before or since have managed. The Cameraman arrived at a pivotal, and in retrospect rather melancholy, moment in that career. It was the first picture Keaton made under his new contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, a deal that transferred him away from the independent set-up at his own studio where he had enjoyed near-total creative control. The shift was significant. MGM was a factory operation, polished but unremarkable in its approach to comedy, and the freedom Keaton had previously taken for granted, the freedom to fail interestingly and to take structural risks, was now considerably curtailed. The film also arrived right on the cusp of the sound revolution: within a year, the silent comedy that Keaton had mastered would be effectively obsolete as a commercial form, which lends the whole enterprise a slightly elegiac quality when viewed today.
Edward Sedgwick was handed directing duties, though accounts of the production suggest Keaton himself remained a strong creative presence throughout. Sedgwick was a competent, workmanlike director with a background in comedies and westerns, reliable rather than visionary, and the pairing produced something that reflects both men's contributions in roughly equal measure. The story is a straightforward, cheerful affair: a street photographer becomes besotted with a young woman and reinvents himself as a newsreel cameraman in the hope of winning her over, with predictably chaotic results. It is the sort of slight, amiable premise that Keaton had previously used as a launchpad for something far more ambitious, as he did in Steamboat Bill, Jr. earlier that same year, but here the mechanics of the plot are treated with rather more deference than usual. The budget was healthy by the standards of the day, and MGM's production values are evident throughout: the New York location work, including footage shot around Times Square and the city's streets, gives the film an authentic, documentary-tinged energy that distinguishes it from the more controlled studio work Keaton had done previously.
Keaton himself is, as ever, the undisputed centre of everything. His co-star Marceline Day is pleasant and capable in the role of the secretary he pursues, warm enough to make the romantic interest plausible, though the part gives her little room to do anything genuinely surprising. Harold Goodwin plays the romantic rival with the kind of breezy, broad villainy that the genre required, and Harry Gribbon contributes some reliable comic support as a harassed police officer. None of them, it should be said, are really what you come for. The Cameraman lives or dies on Keaton's physicality, his timing, and the quality of the gags constructed around him. Whether those gags, and the film as a whole, deliver on the promise of his earlier work is the question worth asking, and it is precisely the question Macca turns to below.
The Cameraman (1928), starring Buster Keaton and directed by Edward Sedgwick, is a perfectly serviceable entry in the silent comedian's filmography. Charming in bursts, historically significant, but ultimately more nostalgic than essential. As always, Keaton's physical genius shines in the set pieces: a chaotic locker-room sequence, a daring dive into a harbour, and his trademark deadpan perseverance in the face of escalating absurdity. These moments remind you why he's revered: a master of timing, stunt work, and visual storytelling who could wring comedy from a simple glance or a well-placed prop.
But outside those highlights, the film feels distinctly of its era, and not in a way that always translates. The pacing meanders, the romantic subplot lacks spark, and the supporting performances lean into the broad, theatrical style that silent cinema demanded but modern audiences often find distancing. There's a reason silent film has a devoted fanbase: it requires a certain patience, an appreciation for pantomime, and a willingness to meet the medium on its own terms. If you're not already wired that way, The Cameraman can feel like watching a museum exhibit: admirable, but not alive.
Credit where it's due: the cinematography is crisp, the gags are cleverly constructed, and Keaton's commitment never wavers. But "standard Keaton" isn't the same as "great Keaton," and this film lacks the narrative cohesion or emotional punch of his very best work (The General, Sherlock Jr.). It's enjoyable enough in short doses, but rarely surprising or deeply engaging.
The Cameraman is ok, historically interesting, occasionally hilarious, and a fine introduction to Keaton's style for newcomers. But for viewers who don't already love silent cinema, it's unlikely to convert you. A pleasant relic, not a revelation. Watch it for the big moments, then move on to something that speaks more directly to modern sensibilities.
That tension between historical importance and immediate enjoyment is one that silent cinema raises more often than any other era of filmmaking, and The Cameraman sits squarely in the middle of it. It is a film that rewards the patient and the already-converted, a fine starting point for anyone curious about Keaton's style, and a useful marker of where his career stood at a crossroads. For viewers who have found themselves more engaged by his earlier, looser, more audacious work, films reviewed elsewhere on this site like Our Hospitality offer a better sense of what he was capable of when the conditions were right. The Cameraman is not a waste of 74 minutes. It is simply, as the best honest criticism acknowledges, a film that was made by a genius operating at something less than his ceiling. Sometimes that is enough. Sometimes it is not quite.
Rating: ★★½ | Year: 1928 | Watched: 2026-05-22
Where to watch (UK)
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