On the surface, Sherlock Jr. is a typical Walter Mitty tale: A hapless movie projectionist, framed by a romantic rival for a theft he didn’t commit, fantasizes about becoming a detective and clearing his name. The film is filled with Keaton’s signature acrobatic stunts and delightful visual wit, but things really get interesting when the projectionist falls asleep while screening a drawing-room mystery. Dreaming that the movie characters are his sweetheart and the rival, his dream-self rises, walks up the aisle, and climbs into the screen to confront them. (To achieve this effect, Keaton built a carefully lit set within a set.)

The dream reality tries to expel the interloper—first, his nemesis tosses him back into the audience. (As he lands, we see the snoozing projectionist twitch.) When he clambers back into the screen, the film medium itself appears to shake him loose by abruptly cutting scenes out from under him: The drawing room becomes the front stairs, shutting him out of the house. As he descends, the steps become a garden bench, causing him to take a nosedive. Dusting himself off and sitting down, he lands on his keister in a busy street. And so on—diving off a wave-battered rock, he lands in a snowbank. By precisely matching posture and camera angle from scene to scene, Keaton made it look like reality was shifting around him.

Half a century before Christopher Nolan was born, and long before CGI, Keaton created a vivid world with its own laws and internally consistent logic. Call it the inception of Inception—it probably left just as many folks scratching their heads on the way out.

Authors: Chris Baker

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