Briefly looking back at Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times

From chaplin.bfi.org.uk

It's that time of year where there's nothing better to do than to whack on a bit of Charlie Chaplin on your laptop. Having luckily kept my head above water insofar actual work is concerned, I did need however a bit of respite from some of the intense reading on my course syllabus.

Anyway, enough with that little digression, and onto Modern Times itself. Quite possibly the finest Chaplin comedy of them all (I'm torn between this and the equally fantastic The Great Dictator), so far as I'm concerned the man was a genius. Sound or silent, he was equally adept at honing both mediums to the best of his abilities, and this film, centred on the exploits of his most famous character the lovable, well-meaning but clumsy Tramp as his does his best to navigate through an increasingly industrialised modern-day world, represents the best blend of the two--though it really is like the recent The Artist, a silent film at heart, with speaking not so much to make concessions to the audience but as an artistic stroke in its own right.

The 'first words' out of the Tramp's mouth come from this film; most of the general public would have most likely never heard Chaplin speak before this. Fittingly it's all utter gibberish, and yet with Chaplin's excellent knack for physical acting we understand every bit of the silly song he's singing/motioning out. Perhaps a jab at those who said the silent film genre was a dead genre, and that only 'talkies' could possible convey meaning? Perhaps. Another instance in which dialogue is employed is through the disembodied voice of the President of Electro Steel, the assembly line where the Tramp is working, representing the oppressiveness of vocal power in contrast to the (near) mute Tramp's meek, modest and retiring nature. I might be reading too much into this linking into later allegations of Chaplin being a Communist supporter and refusing to 'out' his fellow supporters, with the 'vocal'-ness of those who did. But there you go.

It's in many ways a classic Chaplin Little Tramp flick, and that's a good thing. A segment in a department store where Chaplin's Tramp 'fends off' robbers ends up becoming not only an excruciatingly funny scene but also a masterclass of direction by Chaplin himself. As well as these large setpieces, there's also those funny little moments here and there with those little mannerisms audiences then and now have all grown to adore. Him fighting three prisoners with bare hands is funny enough a sight in itself, but its those little moments in between the big comic ones (for example his bemused facial reactions at being congratulated as a hero) are what makes his comedy all the more special.

Yet it's also a deeply moving film in its own quiet little way. The romance between the Tramp and Paulette Goddard's scruffy, unkempt yet incredibly luminous little ruffian is fantastic in both its lighter moments, and the more heartfelt ones. How they slowly move from a amiable friendship to deep, understated throngs of not only love but incomparable care and affection, resonates the strongest out of all of Chaplin's work I've seen (and yes, I've seen City Lights). Him and Goddard share such flawlessly natural chemistry together that they make this unlikeliest of couples (although I've always found the Little Tramp quite adorable in his own little kooky way) really work. The ending, in they walk into the distance, is reminiscent to me of Paradise Lost: on the run from authorities, with an uncertain future ahead, and yet hand in hand bravely venturing forth. It's underplayed endings like these which really bring a filmgoer down to his or her knees--take note, modern-day weepies.

From Amazon.com