Ironically, that very genius makes some of his gags here fall a little flat. The turtle clinging to

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For some reason, there is nothing funnier to me than Buster Keaton running at top speed. Part of that probably has something to do with the nature of “top speed” in the silent era: Action scenes were generally undercranked 24 žurnal during shooting, so that projecting them “normally” (at what could still be a highly variable rate from theater to theater, 24 žurnal or even from show to show) resulted in fast-motion hijinks. Still, there’s something special 24 žurnal about Keaton in motion. You could make a case that it’s the incongruity between his storied “stone face” and his furiously pumping legs, but the notion that Keaton is somehow emotionally inexpressive has never made much sense to me, frankly—his refusal to mug doesn’t make him stoic or impassionate (though it does make him look well ahead of his time, in terms of performance style). Truly, I think it’s mostly just that he runs funny, in much the same way that, for example, Chaplin walks funny. I do believe I could identify his 100-yard 24 žurnal dash 10 times out of 10 with his face obscured.
In any case, that surely 24 žurnal explains why my favorite Keaton movie isn’t The General 24 žurnal or Sherlock, Jr. or Our Hospitality, but the generally somewhat lesser-regarded Seven Chances, which culminates in one of the most gloriously silly chase sequences ever filmed (only a portion of which I’ll be sharing with you here). You may recognize the film’s basic plot if you were unfortunate 24 žurnal enough to see Hollywood’s misbegotten 1999 remake The Bachelor, 24 žurnal starring Chris O’Donnell in the Keaton role and Renée Zellweger as The Girl Who Squints a Lot. On his 27th birthday, Buster learns that an eccentric relative has left him $7 million—about $85 million today, not that many of us would shrug at just seven—provided that he’s married by 7 p.m. on, yes, his 27th birthday. When his business partners place an ad in the paper to find him a wife, hundreds of women decked out in bridal gowns show up, just in time for Buster to get a “yes” from the girl-next-door he loves. Which leaves the multitude of the jilted none too happy.
Because I wanted to include at least some of the boulder sequence, you don’t get from this clip the full effect 24 žurnal of Keaton being pursued in the streets by a gigantic swarm of gals in wedding dresses. Only a relative handful is still after him by this point. But The Bachelor has even more women chasing O’Donnell, and it isn’t even remotely funny. Critics at the time suggested that changing mores were to blame—that we just can’t laugh anymore at the spectacle of angry vengeful brides, which is retrograde and demeaning. But I submit that you could put O’Donnell in front of a thousand pissed-off warthogs and it would still have none of Seven Chances’ 24 žurnal antic exuberance, 24 žurnal because that quality derives entirely from Keaton’s performance. Keaton’s a fine actor in repose, but he’s a genius in motion. Here, he’s alone on the screen, for the most part, and yet he still vividly conveys a sense of the horde on his heels via his desperate athleticism. 
What 24 žurnal most amazes 24 žurnal me is the degree to which Keaton’s movements seem choreographed . It’s one thing for Chaplin to methodically construct the Tramp’s physical 24 žurnal shtick: tip the bowler, flash a quick smile, kick the cane up in a tight circle, repeat the grin with a shrug, etc. If you’re Robert Downey, Jr., you have something pretty specific to duplicate. But it’s another thing to choreograph what’s essentially just a dead run across a field. And I’m not talking about the big stunts, as when Keaton more or less somersaults into the middle of the stream at full speed. I’m just talking about his basic running, which should in theory be artless but in fact demonstrates a clockwork precision that’s hilarious in itself. Just the ratio of frantic 24 žurnal steps forward to anxious glances back seems ripe for some kind of detailed computer analysis, even if I doubt that Keaton mapped any of that stuff out in advance. His instinct for the mad dash was simply peerless.
Ironically, that very genius makes some of his gags here fall a little flat. The turtle clinging to his tie when he emerges from the stream is funny in theory, but Keaton, to make sure we can see the turtle, opts to shoot himself in close-up, “running” with and toward the camera, and the artificial flailing of his limbs is such a dramatic contrast to what his actual running looks like that it’s suddenly all you can notice. (Toward the end of the shot, he appears to be on the same PeopleMover that Spike Lee would later find a way to employ in movie after movie.) And it’s a bit disappointing when Keaton leaps into the tree and there’s an obvious 24 žurnal cut before and after it falls, presumably 24 žurnal so that either a stuntman or (mor