It was really somewhat unique in the history of film comedy. I can only think of one near miss on a similar level, and in that case the artist involved had made movies.
Samuel Becket, dramatist, novelist, secretary to James Joyce, and Nobel Literary Lauriate, loved comedy. His first and greatest play, WAITING FOR GODOT has a pair of hobos (Vladimir and Estragon) who in the course of the play frequently do music hall turns reminiscent of Laurel & Hardy among others. Others have situations that are certainly odd in a striking and comic manner (like one woman who is half buried in sand throughout a one act play). In the hands of a lesser writer these oddities would vaguely amuse, but Becket structured his comic turns and sight gags to have a value in the themes of his plays, so that gradually (even as we are amused) we are fascinated and learn of aspects of the human race we frequently bury or try to ignore. "Shall we go?", one of the two hobos says to the other as WAITING FOR GODOT ends. Godot (God? The Wonderful Future? The Messiah?) is not coming as they hope. "Yes," says the other hobo, "Let's go!". They stand perfectly still as the curtain goes down - and that conclusion makes perfect sense to the audience.
When he wrote WAITING FOR GODOT, Becket offered it to Buster Keaton. Keaton's career had revived, especially after his duet with Charlie Chaplin in LIMELIGHT. But Keaton was uncertain about doing it, so it was done by Bert Lahr instead. But Becket always admired Keaton, and in 1965 offered him what was tantamount to a solo appearance(there are only three other actors in the film, very briefly). It is Buster's only philosophical movie.
Can we escape any form of examination of our activities? Keaton's character is shown for 95% of the film from the back or side (towards the end something of the "Great Stone Face" is shown but still from the nape of the neck). He is constantly running from view. He knocks down a clergyman and a woman, but both when watching him see something else that horrifies them. So does an elderly flower seller in Keaton's rooming house (who faints when she sees the unseen presence). Keaton enters his room and slowly does everything to remove any watchful eyes from staring at him. This includes pets he has, and even a picture of a sculpture head (interestingly of a Sumarian or Babylonian figure with wide eyes - these statues were usually meant to represent pious priests). When certain that he is unobserved Keaton looks at some photographs he got, and only then (for the first time) we see a picture of Keaton facing us - and with an eye patch). After getting rid of the photos Keaton apparently falls asleep, but then...he faces the ultimate intensive critic looking him over - and his final scene shows a tragic resignation that even death won't avoid.
It's philosophical beat makes it unique among Keaton's silent movies. It remains a nice final highpoint towards the end of his career - and one that fellow silent comics Chaplin and Lloyd did not quite match (although Chaplin's social comments, and Lloyd's spin on the success ethic are close to it in other areas of thought).
The only other time a similar arrangement appears to have been tried was when Salvador Dali offered a surrealistic comedy script to the Marx Brothers, and sent Harpo a specially designed harp. The script was never seriously considered by the Brothers (although Dali had been involved in surrealistic films in the 1920s and 1930s, and would work with Alfred Hitchcock on SPELLBOUND). Except for that one attempt no other major 20th Century artist appears to have approached any of the major film clowns to collaborate on any work.
Samuel Becket, dramatist, novelist, secretary to James Joyce, and Nobel Literary Lauriate, loved comedy. His first and greatest play, WAITING FOR GODOT has a pair of hobos (Vladimir and Estragon) who in the course of the play frequently do music hall turns reminiscent of Laurel & Hardy among others. Others have situations that are certainly odd in a striking and comic manner (like one woman who is half buried in sand throughout a one act play). In the hands of a lesser writer these oddities would vaguely amuse, but Becket structured his comic turns and sight gags to have a value in the themes of his plays, so that gradually (even as we are amused) we are fascinated and learn of aspects of the human race we frequently bury or try to ignore. "Shall we go?", one of the two hobos says to the other as WAITING FOR GODOT ends. Godot (God? The Wonderful Future? The Messiah?) is not coming as they hope. "Yes," says the other hobo, "Let's go!". They stand perfectly still as the curtain goes down - and that conclusion makes perfect sense to the audience.
When he wrote WAITING FOR GODOT, Becket offered it to Buster Keaton. Keaton's career had revived, especially after his duet with Charlie Chaplin in LIMELIGHT. But Keaton was uncertain about doing it, so it was done by Bert Lahr instead. But Becket always admired Keaton, and in 1965 offered him what was tantamount to a solo appearance(there are only three other actors in the film, very briefly). It is Buster's only philosophical movie.
Can we escape any form of examination of our activities? Keaton's character is shown for 95% of the film from the back or side (towards the end something of the "Great Stone Face" is shown but still from the nape of the neck). He is constantly running from view. He knocks down a clergyman and a woman, but both when watching him see something else that horrifies them. So does an elderly flower seller in Keaton's rooming house (who faints when she sees the unseen presence). Keaton enters his room and slowly does everything to remove any watchful eyes from staring at him. This includes pets he has, and even a picture of a sculpture head (interestingly of a Sumarian or Babylonian figure with wide eyes - these statues were usually meant to represent pious priests). When certain that he is unobserved Keaton looks at some photographs he got, and only then (for the first time) we see a picture of Keaton facing us - and with an eye patch). After getting rid of the photos Keaton apparently falls asleep, but then...he faces the ultimate intensive critic looking him over - and his final scene shows a tragic resignation that even death won't avoid.
It's philosophical beat makes it unique among Keaton's silent movies. It remains a nice final highpoint towards the end of his career - and one that fellow silent comics Chaplin and Lloyd did not quite match (although Chaplin's social comments, and Lloyd's spin on the success ethic are close to it in other areas of thought).
The only other time a similar arrangement appears to have been tried was when Salvador Dali offered a surrealistic comedy script to the Marx Brothers, and sent Harpo a specially designed harp. The script was never seriously considered by the Brothers (although Dali had been involved in surrealistic films in the 1920s and 1930s, and would work with Alfred Hitchcock on SPELLBOUND). Except for that one attempt no other major 20th Century artist appears to have approached any of the major film clowns to collaborate on any work.