Chaplin on Chaplin

My Autobiography (1964/ This edition with new introduction 2007) by Charlie Chaplin: The first third of Charlie Chaplin's autobiography was excerpted and sold as its own book, My Early Life. This suggests that Chaplin (or someone in his estate) knew that his autobiography was excellent pretty much right up to the point that he became the most famous person, film star or otherwise, on Earth -- in 1916, roughly speaking.

The first third details Chaplin's Dickensian childhood in London, England. And it is detailed, and marvelously described. Chaplin didn't use a ghost writer -- the prose is all his, with some corrections for spelling and grammar. He's a gifted memoirist, at least until he becomes famous. Then he becomes an anecdotalist, with the narrative switching to an exhausting string of Chaplin's encounters with famous people.

The first third of My Autobiography, though, is dynamite. Chaplin draws a picture of late Victorian England that is grimy but often full of life and heartbreak. His early adventures on the stage as a member of a travelling acrobatic troupe, as an actor, and ultimately as a dance-hall comedian are memorable and informative.

The introduction to this edition -- written 40 years after the initial mid-1960's release -- notes some of Chaplin's curious omissions. Unless his long-time collaborators are actresses, he omits them almost entirely. He also omits almost any mention of the process of making his films, especially once he's on his own. His first two wives get less than a page's worth between them. He does deal with his 1940's trial and subsequent exile to Switzerland, along with his last marriage, to the then-18-year-old daughter of playwright Eugene O'Neill when Chaplin was in his mid-50's. He fails to mention his last movie -- A King in New York -- at all. 

Oh, well. Some of the anecdotes are interesting, depending on your tolerance for name-dropping, especially when many of those names have faded into history. The several pages devoted to Chaplin's relationship with William Randolph Hearst and his mistress Marion Davies are probably the most rewarding of the lot.

One thing is certain -- Chaplin was no Communist, even if he did get branded as such for some of the speechifying he did in person and on film. He really, really loves money and he lets it show. Given his impoverished background, it all makes sense.

In all, My Autobiography is immensely rewarding for the first 150 pages or so. After that, one really must proceed at one's own risk. Recommended.

Running Away from the Circus

The Circus: written and directed by Charlie Chaplin; starring Charlie Chaplin (The Little Tramp), Merna Kennedy (A Circus Rider) and Harry Crocker (Rex, A Tightrope Waker) (1928): Chaplin's last fully silent film is a small gem. It lacks the almost epic comic scale of some of his other features that include The Gold Rush and City Lights, but it is nonetheless filled with comic setpieces of often astonishing ingenuity.

The Little Tramp gets hired by a circus after he's discovered to be an inadvertant comic genius. He falls in love with the stepdaughter of the Ringmaster/Owner, who is constantly mistreated by her stepfather. That's pretty much the entire spoiler-free plot.

Chaplin can suffer quite a bit when compared to contemporary Buster Keaton as a director, at least when one looks at shot-to-shot composition and the exploitation of the unique qualities of film. Chaplin generally uses the shot as a proscenium arch: he's interested in what he can do within the mise-en-scene. And a lot of his physical comedy relies upon startling the viewer with what seem to be impossible feats, simply filmed.

But what physical comedy! There's something ridiculously amusing about the Tramp's reaction to good news in this film (and others), for instance: he runs around kicking people in the stomach. Why? I have no idea. But it's hilarious.

Chaplin made this film while in the midst of a court trial. His studio burned down during production. And the footage of him performing a tightrop scene while actually 40 feet above the ground was damaged, forcing him to quickly do what he considered an inferior (but much safer) reshoot. And after The Circus was completed, Chaplin had a nervous breakdown. Frankly, it's amazing the film wasn't a tragedy. Recommended.

Tramp the Dirt Down

Modern Times, written and directed by Charlie Chaplin, starring Charlie Chaplin (A Factory Worker) and Paulette Goddard (A Gamin) (1936): Stubbornly, Charlie Chaplin somehow made a mostly silent movie that got released 7 years after the advent of sound pictures. Some characters do intermittently speak, though Chaplin's Little Tramp relies on title cards and one nonsense song to communicate. A luminous Paulette Goddard plays the only other major role, an orphaned teenaged runaway whom Chaplin's character takes under his wing.

Chaplin's main targets in Modern Times were the dehumanizing effects of industrialization and the social effects of the Great Depression. Thanks to one slapstick sequence in which the Tramp accidentally leads a Communist Workers Rally, Modern Times would be used as proof of Chaplin's Communist sympathies, allegations which would force him to leave the United States in the late 1940's.

Chaplin's late-period silent comedy features were expertly choreographed, big-budget productions. Gigantic sets and set-pieces dominate the early stages of the film, as the Tramp's problems working in a factory are highlighted. The later stages don't paint on so gigantic a canvas, turning instead to Chaplin's English dancehall roots in scenes set in a cafe where the waiters perform elaborate musical and comedy numbers for the patrons.

Other setpieces make use of a dilipidated shack in which the Tramp and the Gamin play house, a jailhouse cafeteria in which the Tramp inadvertantly does a whole lot of cocaine and subsequently becomes manic, and a gigantic department store. Chaplin's skill at choreographing and executing physical comedy is unparalleled; the concluding scene is a real tear-jerker. Highly recommended.