#18 ‘The General’
Trains, Stunts, and Confederate Nostalgia Dressed as Comedy
The General (1926)—that silent-era darling in which Buster Keaton, the stone-faced prince of slapstick, risks life, limb, and logic to recover a stolen train and the woman who clearly deserves better. Hailed as a technical marvel and a masterclass in physical comedy, it’s also, let's not mince words, a Confederate fantasy where the South is plucky, charming, and only fighting to get their locomotive back.
Yes. That South.
Keaton plays Johnny Gray, a hapless train engineer rejected from Confederate army enlistment (because he's “more valuable” operating trains, eyeroll) and dismissed by his sweetheart for not being man enough to die for a cause built on slavery. When Union spies steal his beloved train—and her, because why not?—he embarks on a high-speed rescue mission that involves stunts so impressive they almost distract you from the film's ugly moral vacuum.
Let’s be clear: this is a comedy in which the Confederate hero chases down Union soldiers, defeats them, and is rewarded with a military commission and a kiss. But don't worry, it’s funny, so the historical context doesn't count! Except it does. Because this isn't just Civil War as slapstick—it's a gleeful reframing of the Confederacy as underdog heroism. Keaton isn't playing a man fighting for white supremacy; he’s playing an earnest, bumbling boy chasing his train. That’s the sleight of hand. It’s not Lost Cause propaganda—it’s Lost Cause charm.
And of course, Annabelle Lee, the romantic lead, has all the depth of a paper doily. She scolds, swoons, and eventually cooks in a train firebox. (Yes, really.) Her function? To validate Johnny’s masculinity once he’s proven himself via machinery and explosives. She is the reward, not a character. It’s a love story between a man, his train, and the woman who is conveniently trapped inside it.
Technically, yes, The General is brilliant. Keaton’s timing, choreography, and death-defying stunts are still jaw-dropping nearly a century later. The cinematography is fluid and ambitious. The editing is crisp. The comedic set pieces are tight. But let’s not pretend it’s apolitical. You don’t set your madcap comedy in the Civil War and root for the South without making a statement—whether you admit it or not.
In the end, The General is both a cinematic landmark and a deeply uncomfortable relic. A film that wants to be remembered for its genius, but politely hopes you’ll ignore the Confederate flag fluttering in the background. Watching it today is like admiring a beautifully restored plantation house while trying not to think about what paid for the porch.
2.5 out of 5 locomotives
(One for Keaton’s physical comedy. One for the filmmaking craft. Half a star for Annabelle’s miraculous patience. The rest derailed somewhere between nostalgia and historical denial.)
