How Buster Keaton Broke His Neck & Reinvented Cinema: The Story of Sherlock Jr.

Imagine a man running on the edge of a rushing locomotive, staring up at a torrent of water about to crash over him-knowing he’s about to risk his life, not for glory, but for a laugh. This was Buster Keaton: the silent era’s daredevil, stone-faced genius, and master of audacious stunts.

Keaton’s journey began before he could read, working the rough-and-tumble vaudeville circuit at the age of three. Billed as “The Little Boy Who Can’t Be Damaged,” his act involved playing a child whose antics provoked his father into physically throwing him across the stage – smashing into the scenery, tumbling into the orchestra pit, sometimes even tossed into the startled audience.

While such a spectacle would horrify modern sensibilities, this hazardous upbringing cultivated in Keaton an exceptional physical resilience and an almost supernatural comprehension of comic timing. It served as perhaps the most rigorous and unconventional apprenticeship conceivable for any auteur. By the 1920s. Keaton was a writer, director, and luminous star.

His 1924 film Sherlock Jr. is a testament to both his artistry and his appetite for danger. Keaton plays a humble film projectionist with two aspirations:to learn the deductive skills of a master detective, and to win the affection of a young woman billed simply as “The Girl”. When a rival frames him for theft, Keaton’s character retreats to the theater where he works. As the film flickers before him, he succumbs to sleep, and here, the story takes a surreal and innovative turn. He dreams himself into the very film he was projecting, transforming into the sophisticated, heroic detective he yearns to be, suavely navigating a fictional world.

What unfolds within this “film within a film” is a cascade of thrilling action sequences and astonishing comic set pieces, all famously performed by Keaton himself.

The dangers were genuine. During the iconic water tank sequence the deluge drove Keaton down into the tracks below. Unaware of the severity of his injury, ignoring his blinding pain, Keaton simply continued, completing the film. His broken neck would only be diagnosed years later by X-ray, a stark testament to his unparalleled physical commitment and stoicism.
Yet, Sherlock Jr. is more than a collection of amazing stunts. The technical ingenuity required to realize the film’s central conceit: a dreaming projectionist attempting to navigate the constantly shifting cinematic landscape – demanded meticulous planning and mathematical precision. This playful yet profound exploration of the porous boundary between the audience and narrative, between perceived reality and cinematic fiction, marks the film as startlingly meta-cinematic, anticipating theoretical discussions by decades.
Too surreal for audiences in 1924 – achieving moderate success rather than the blockbuster status of Keaton’s broader comedies – Sherlock Jr. is now hailed by critics and arthouse audiences. Its audacious blend of physical prowess, narrative invention, and cinematic self-awareness led to its preservation in the United States National Film Registry in 1991.

Fortunately, Sherlock Jr. is in the public domain, allowing me to share a few grainy glimpses of its magic. However, to truly appreciate the startling genius of Keaton’s vision, I recommend experiencing the beautifully restored version available on the Criterion Channel.

Keaton’s legacy is not bruises and broken bones, but the way he expanded the language of film, inviting us to dream with our eyes wide open. What’s your favorite Keaton film? Let me know in the comments below.