*Spoilers.*
May 11, 1924—the day Sherlock Jr. was released. Every time I watch this film, I’m struck by how much I love it. Not only is it an all-around great film with incredible camera work and top-notch gags/stunts from Buster, it also features a very different type of performance from Buster, when his projectionist character falls asleep and imagines himself as a renowned detective in the second half the movie. Sherlock Jr. himself is a big part of what makes this film wonderful, and he’s what I want to look at today.
In many ways, Sherlock Jr. is everything the projectionist (and, by extension, most of Buster’s characters) is not. Buster’s usual character is dogged and rootable and endearing, as surprisingly athletic as he is hopelessly clumsy, but what he’s not is smooth. Sherlock Jr., on the other hand, has suaveness in spades. Once the dream sequence kicks off, you know from the moment he enters the house with his top hat and cane that you’re seeing a different side of Buster. And it’s not just the spiffy digs (after all, Buster’s played plenty of dandies)—it’s the way he carries himself with absolute confidence, none of the loping shamble of his ordinary character.
On that front, I can’t even quite put my finger on why it’s so different. Buster’s typical character isn’t exactly insecure, or even awkward; usually, he’s fumbling and a bit shy, but he’s also very determined and unflappable in the face of ridiculous odds. He’s not, however, like Sherlock Jr. It’s all in the walk, the astute gaze, the way he acts like he owns a room.
And what’s more, he has the skills to back it up. Sherlock Jr. was dreamed up between the eras of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Ian Fleming, but he’s somehow equal parts Holmes and Bond. I love his easy command, the way he so frequently owns everybody with this no-big-deal blasé attitude which makes it clear he does this sort of thing all the time. This quality shows up numerous times—blithely picking the pocket of the crook who takes his watch from him, making the seamless transition from road to aquatic getaway—but it’s best displayed in the billiard game. Sherlock Jr. sinks every ball in a series of wild shots, neatly avoiding the ball that the bad guys know to be weaponized with a concealed explosive (little do they know, Sherlock Jr. is wise to them and switches the balls when they’re not looking,) and then coolly saunters off, leaving the villains gaping at his feat.
Of course, this same scene also offers up what love best about Sherlock Jr.: he’s almost equal parts adept and inept. Leaving the house, he produces the deadly billiard and tosses it casually in the air, but he misses catching it and has to flail around, juggling it pretty wildly to keep it from hitting the ground and blowing him up. We see this again and again. His suspect easily leads him off-course, trapping him on a rooftop, but he handily rides a descending railroad-crossing arm back down to street level. He pulls off the incredible ride on the handlebars of the driverless motorbike, but that’s only because it takes him so long to realize the driver has fallen off. He’s entirely unable to recognize his own assistant in disguise, and when he and the girl sail across the lake in the floating cab of a car, he doesn’t seem to notice it sinking until they’re already fully in the water.
Since Sherlock Jr. is the projectionist’s dream in which he gets to be the hero, maybe it would have made for sense for him to be perfect, but I love that he’s not. It says something pretty special about Buster, I think, that the Holmesian proto-Bond smooth customer he creates still makes so many easy mistakes and, despite his effortless cool, is still so relatable and human.
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