I talked to Bogdanovich about his fondness for Buster Keaton, the changes in American cinema since he first came on the scene, and the idea of a film becoming "dated" after a certain number of years have elapsed.—M.Z.S

Why did you want to make a film about Buster Keaton?



Charles Cohen, who controls all of Buster's 1920s films, asked me if I wanted to do a documentary on Buster, and I said yes. I had liked most of the things I saw of his on the screen. My father used to take me to see Keaton and [Charlie] Chaplin and all those guys at the Museum of Modern Art when I was about five or six years old.

What was it about Keaton that distinguished him from other important figures in the silent era, as both a screen presence and as a director?

He's one of the great directors of comedy, particularly because of his sense of where to put the camera—he never makes a mistake with that. He's also very, very funny, yet he's not sentimental. Which is a relief—a lot of Chaplin's silent comedy from the same period is sentimental, whereas Keaton still feels modern. He's kinda tough, and unsentimental.

What do you think about that constant comparison, which I remember from my own early days as a film student in the 1980s, between Keaton and Chaplin—with seemingly the end goal being to push everybody to declare a preference for one over the other?

You're right, that was a real thing, that Keaton versus Chaplin thing, and it's gone on for a great number of years. I don't know--I met Charlie, I liked him, I admired his films. But I personally think Keaton's a better director.

Somebody one said to Chaplin, "Your shots are not very interesting." He said, "Yes, I know. But I'm interesting."

Do you think that's a valid defense?

[Pause] Well...it's what he said.

What are of the challenges of putting together a documentary about a director whose greatest work was done almost a hundred years ago, during the silent era?