Author Topic: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~  (Read 21452 times)

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~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« on: December 28, 2012, 02:27:09 PM »
Overview of His Life


Childhood
Charles Spencer Chaplin was born in London, England, on April 16th 1889. His father was a versatile vocalist and actor; and his mother, known under the stage name of Lily Harley, was an attractive actress and singer, who gained a reputation for her work in the light opera field.


Charlie was thrown on his own resources before he reached the age of ten as the early death of his father and the subsequent illness of his mother made it necessary for Charlie and his brother, Sydney, to fend for themselves.

Having inherited natural talents from their parents, the youngsters took to the stage as the best opportunity for a career. Charlie made his professional debut as a member of a juvenile group called "The Eight Lancashire Lads" and rapidly won popular favour as an outstanding tap dancer.

Beginning of his career
When he was about twelve, he got his first chance to act in a legitimate stage show, and appeared as "Billy" the page boy, in support of William Gillette in "Sherlock Holmes". At the close of this engagement, Charlie started a career as a comedian in vaudeville, which eventually took him to the United States in 1910 as a featured player with the Fred Karno Repertoire Company.


He scored an immediate hit with American audiences, particularly with his characterization in a sketch entitled "A Night in an English Music Hall". When the Fred Karno troupe returned to the United States in the fall of 1912 for a repeat tour, Chaplin was offered a motion picture contract.

He finally agreed to appear before the cameras at the expiration of his vaudeville commitments in November 1913; and his entrance in the cinema world took place that month when he joined Mack Sennett and the Keystone Film Company. His initial salary was $150 a week, but his overnight success on the screen spurred other producers to start negotiations for his services.

At the completion of his Sennett contract, Chaplin moved on to the Essanay Company (1915) at a large increase. Sydney Chaplin had then arrived from England, and took his brother’s place with Keystone as their leading comedian.


The following year Charlie was even more in demand and signed with the Mutual Film Corporation for a much larger sum to make 12 two-reel comedies. These include "The Floorwalker", "The Fireman", "The Vagabond", "One A.M." (a production in which he was the only character for the entire two reels with the exception of the entrance of a cab driver in the opening scene), "The Count", "The Pawnshop", "Behind the Screen", "The Rink", "Easy Street" (heralded as his greatest production up to that time), "The Cure", "The Immigrant" and "The Adventurer".

Gaining independence


When his contract with Mutual expired in 1917, Chaplin decided to become an independent producer in a desire for more freedom and greater leisure in making his movies. To that end, he busied himself with the construction of his own studios. This plant was situated in the heart of the residential section of Hollywood at La Brea Avenue.

Early in 1918, Chaplin entered into an agreement with First National Exhibitors’ Circuit, a new organization specially formed to exploit his pictures. His first film under this new deal was "A Dog’s Life". After this production, he turned his attention to a national tour on behalf of the war effort, following which he made a film the US government used to popularize the Liberty Loan drive: "The Bond".


His next commercial venture was the production of a comedy dealing with the war. "Shoulder Arms", released in 1918 at a most opportune time, proved a veritable mirthquake at the box office and added enormously to Chaplin’s popularity. This he followed with "Sunnyside" and "A Day’s Pleasure", both released in 1919.

In April of that year, Chaplin joined with Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks and D.W. Griffith to found the United Artists Corporation. B.B. Hampton, in his "History of the Movies" says:

"The corporation was organized as a distributor, each of the artists retaining entire control of his or her respective producing activities, delivering to United Artists the completed pictures for distribution on the same general plan they would have followed with a distributing organization which they did not own. The stock of United Artists was divided equally among the founders. This arrangement introduced a new method into the industry. Heretofore, producers and distributors had been the employers, paying salaries and sometimes a share of the profits to the stars. Under the United Artists system, the stars became their own employers. They had to do their own financing, but they received the producer profits that had formerly gone to their employers and each received his share of the profits of the distributing organization."


However, before he could assume his responsibilities with United Artists, Chaplin had to complete his contract with First National. So early in 1921, he came out with a six-reel masterpiece : The Kid

The Kid (1921)
The kid in which he introduced to the screen one of the greatest child actors the world has ever known - Jackie Coogan. The next year, he produced "The Idle Class", in which he portrayed a dual character.

Then, feeling the need of a complete rest from his motion picture activities, Chaplin sailed for Europe in September 1921. London, Paris, Berlin and other capitals on the continent gave him tumultuous receptions. After an extended vacation, Chaplin returned to Hollywood to resume his picture work and start his active association with United Artists.

Under his arrangement with U.A., Chaplin made eight pictures, each of feature length, in the following order:

The Masterpiece Features
(Note : the comments on each film are taken from articles by David Robinson which we strongly recommend you read by following the link since they have many more insights on his life)

A Woman of Paris (1923)
was a courageous step in the career of Charles Chaplin. After seventy films in which he himself had appeared in every scene, he now directed a picture in which he merely walked on for a few seconds as an unbilled and unrecognisable extra – a porter at a railroad station. Until this time, every film had been a comedy. A Woman of Paris was a romantic drama. This was not a sudden impulse. For a long time Chaplin had wanted to try his hand at directing a serious film. In the end, the inspiration for A Woman of Paris came from three women. First was Edna Purviance, who had been his ideal partner in more than 35 films. Now, though, he felt that Edna was growing too mature for comedy, and decided to make a film that would launch her on a new career as a dramatic actress.

The Gold Rush (1925)
Chaplin generally strove to separate his work from his private life; but in this case the two became inextricably and painfully mixed.


Searching for a new leading lady, he rediscovered Lillita MacMurray, whom he had employed, as a pretty 12-year-old, in The Kid Still not yet sixteen, Lillita was put under contract and re-named Lita Grey.

Chaplin quickly embarked on a clandestine affair with her; and when the film was six months into shooting, Lita discovered she was pregnant. Chaplin found himself forced into a marriage which brought misery to both partners, though it produced two sons, Charles Jr and Sydney Chaplin.


The Circus (1928)
"The Circus" won Charles Chaplin his first Academy Award – it was still not yet called the ‘Oscar’ – he was given it at the first presentations ceremony, in 1929. But as late as 1964, it seemed, this was a film he preferred to forget. The reason was not the film itself, but the deeply fraught circumstances surrounding its making.


Chaplin was in the throes of the break-up of his marriage with Lita Grey; and production of The Circus coincided with one of the most unseemly and sensational divorces of twenties Hollywood, as Lita’s lawyers sought every means to ruin Chaplin’s career by smearing his reputation.

As if his domestic troubles were not enough, the film seemed fated to catastrophe of every kind [...]

In the late 1960s, after the years spent trying to forget it, Chaplin returned to "The Circus" to re-release it with a new musical score of his own composition. [...] It seemed to symbolize his reconciliation to the film which cost him so much stress.

City Lights (1931)
"City Lights" proved to be the hardest and longest undertaking of Chaplin’s career. By the time it was completed he had spent two years and eight months on the work, with almost 190 days of actual shooting. The marvel is that the finished film betrays nothing of this effort and anxiety. Even before he began City Lights the sound film was firmly established.

This new revolution was a bigger challenge to Chaplin than to other silent stars. His Tramp character was universal. His mime was understood in every part of the world. But if the Tramp now began to speak in English, that world-wide audience would instantly shrink.

Chaplin boldly solved the problem by ignoring speech, and making City Lights in the way he had always worked before, as a silent film. However he astounded the press and the public by composing the entire score for "City Lights".


The premieres were among the most brilliant the cinema had ever seen. In Los Angeles, Chaplin’s guest was Albert Einstein; while in London Bernard Shaw sat beside him. "City Lights" was a critical triumph. All Chaplin’s struggles and anxieties, it seemed, were compensated by the film which still appears as the zenith of his achievement and reputation.

Modern Times (1936)
Chaplin was acutely preoccupied with the social and economic problems of this new age. In 1931 and 1932 he had left Hollywood behind, to embark on an 18-month world tour. In Europe, he had been disturbed to see the rise of nationalism and the social effects of the Depression, of unemployment and of automation.


He read books on economic theory; and devised his own Economic Solution, an intelligent exercise in utopian idealism, based on a more equitable distribution not just of wealth but of work.

In 1931 he told a newspaper interviewer, “Unemployment is the vital question . . . Machinery should benefit mankind. It should not spell tragedy and throw it out of work”.

The Great Dictator (1940)
When writing "The Great Dictator" in 1939, Chaplin was as famous worldwide as Hitler, and his Tramp character wore the same moustache. He decided to pit his celebrity and humour against the dictator’s own celebrity and evil. He benefited – if that is the right word for it, given the times – from his “reputation” as a Jew, which he was not – (he said “I do not have that pleasure”).

In the film Chaplin plays a dual role –a Jewish barber who lost his memory in a plane accident in the first war, and spent years in hospital before being discharged into an antisemite country that he does not understand, and Hynkel, the dictator leader of Ptomania, whose armies are the forces of the Double Cross, and who will do anything along those lines to increase his possibilities for becoming emperor of the world. Chaplin’s aim is obvious, and the film ends with a now famous and humanitarian speech made by the barber, "speaking Chaplin’s own words":/en/articles/29 .

<a href="http://www.youtube.com/v/YCEllKyaCrc&amp;wide=1&amp;wide=1&amp;feature=player_embedded" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" class="bbc_link bbc_flash_disabled new_win">http://www.youtube.com/v/YCEllKyaCrc&amp;wide=1&amp;wide=1&amp;feature=player_embedded</a>

Monsieur Verdoux (1947)
The idea was originally suggested by Orson Welles, as a project for a dramatised documentary on the career of the legendary French murder Henri Désiré Landru – who was executed in 1922, having murdered at least ten women, two dogs and one boy.

Chaplin was so intrigued by the idea that he paid Welles $5000 for it. The agreement was signed in 1941, but Chaplin took four more years to complete the script. In the meantime the irritating distractions of a much-publicised and ugly paternity suit had been compensated by his brilliantly successful marriage to Oona O’Neill.


In the late 1940s, America¹s Cold War paranoia reached its peak, and Chaplin, as a foreigner with liberal and humanist sympathies, was a prime target for political witch-hunters. This was the start of Chaplin’s last and unhappiest period in the United States, which he was definitively to leave in 1952.

Limelight (1952)
Not surprisingly, then, in choosing his next subject he deliberately sought escape from disagreeable contemporary reality. He found it in bitter-sweet nostalgia for the world of his youth – the world of the London music halls at the opening of the 20th century, where he had first discovered his genius as an entertainer.


With this strong underlay of nostalgia, Chaplin was at pains to evoke as accurately as possible the London he remembered from half a century before and it is clear from the preparatory notes for the film that the character of Calvero had a very similar childhood to Chaplin’s own. Limelight's story of a once famous music hall artist whom nobody finds amusing any longer may well have been similarly autobiographical as a sort of nightmare scenario.

Chaplin’s son Sydney plays the young, talented pianist who vies with Calvero for the young ballerina’s heart, and several other Chaplin family members participated in the film. It was when on the boat travelling with his family to the London premiere of Limelight that Chaplin learned that his re-entry pass to the United States had been rescinded based on allegations regarding his morals and politics.

Chaplin therefore remained in Europe, and settled with his family at the Manoir de Ban in Corsier sur Vevey, Switzerland, with view of lake and mountains. What a difference from California. He and Oona went on to have four more children, making a total of eight.

A King in New York
With A King in New York Charles Chaplin was the first film-maker to dare to expose, through satire and ridicule, the paranoia and political intolerance which overtook the United States in the Cold War years of the 1940s and 50s. Chaplin himself had bitter personal experience of the American malaise of that time. [...]

To take up film making again, as an exile, was a challenging undertaking. He was now nearing 70. For almost forty years he had enjoyed the luxury of his own studio and a staff of regular employees, who understood his way of work. Now though he had to work with strangers, in costly and unfriendly rented studios. [...] The film shows the strain.


In 1966 he produced his last picture, “A Countess from Hong Kong” for Universal Pictures, his only film in colour, starring Sophia Loren and Marlon Brando. The film started as a project called Stowaway in the 1930s, planned for Paulette Goddard. Chaplin appears briefly as a ship steward, Sydney once again has an important role, and three of his daughters have small parts in the film. The film was unsuccessful at the box office, but Petula Clark had one or two hit records with songs from the soundtrack music and the music continues to be very popular.

Last Years
Chaplin’s versatility extended to writing, music and sports. He was the author of at least four books, "My Trip Abroad", "A Comedian Sees the World", "My Autobiography", "My Life in Pictures" as well as all of his scripts. An accomplished musician, though self-taught, he played a variety of instruments with equal skill and facility (playing violin and cello left-handed).

He was also a composer, having written and published many songs, among them: "Sing a Song"; "With You Dear in Bombay"; and "There’s Always One You Can’t Forget",

"Smile", "Eternally", "You are My Song", as well as the soundtracks for all his filmsCharles Chaplin was one of the rare comedians who not only financed and produced all his films (with the exception of "A Countess from Hong Kong"), but was the author, actor, director and soundtrack composer of them as well.

He died on Christmas day 1977, survived by eight children from his last marriage with Oona O’Neill, and one son from his short marriage to Lita Grey.
« Last Edit: December 28, 2012, 02:28:58 PM by MysteRy »

Offline MysteRy

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #1 on: December 28, 2012, 02:52:12 PM »
Charlie’s Mother: Hannah Chaplin


Charlie Chaplin always cited his own mother as a great inspiration on both his performance techniques and his outlook on life. Hannah was a singer and character comedienne in the British music halls with the stage name of Lily Harley, and she did enjoy some success.


Sadly her career was plagued on and off by ill health, and it was when her voice failed during one particular performance that the young Charlie Chaplin, at the age of five, got his first taste of performing - he went on as an impromptu replacement. Her health continued to decline and she found herself making a poor living as a seamstress and was eventually put into a mental hospital. She would suffer from mental illness for the rest of her life.

Even during her poverty-stricken days, Hannah Chaplin was remembered to have brought endless gaiety and pleasures to her children. She would bring them small treats, sing and dance her old music hall numbers and act out plays to them. Charlie Chaplin attributed his own success as a pantomimist to his mother’s gifts for mimicry and observation.


In 1921, Charlie Chaplin and his brother Sydney brought their mother over to live with them in the United States. Charlie bought Hannah a seaside house in Hollywood and hired trained caregivers to look after her for the last seven years of her life. It was also during her days in Hollywood that she was at last reunited with her other son, Wheeler Dryden, who was separated from her at the age of six months. She died on August 28, 1928.


Did you know that Charlie Chaplin named the leading female character (played by Paulette Goddard) in The Great Dictator after his mother, Hannah Chaplin?

Did you know that Geraldine Chaplin, Hannah’s own granddaughter played the role of Hannah Chaplin in the 1992 biopic Chaplin?

Offline MysteRy

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #2 on: December 28, 2012, 02:54:24 PM »
Charlie’s Father: Charles Chaplin Sr.


The senior Charles Chaplin married Hannah in 1885 and took to the stage professionally a year later. He was well known as a comic singer, and had a number of songs made famous by him, such as “Oui! Tray Bong!”, “Eh! Boys?” and - written by himself – “The Girl Was Young and Pretty”.

His marriage to Hannah did not last long, and they separated when Charlie was only about one year old. Charlie Chaplin had little contact with his father, except for a short period when he and Sydney stayed with Charles Chaplin Sr. during their mother’s stay at hospital.


Drinking was a professional problem amongst many music hall stars of the period, and it was alcoholism that eventually killed Charles Chaplin Sr. at the young age of 37, when Charlie Chaplin was 12 years old.

Did you know that Charles Chaplin Sr. toured the U.S. and performed in New York in 1890?

Did you know that Charles Chaplin Sr. was arrested for his failure to provide for his children, Charlie and Sydney Chaplin?

Did you know that it was Charles Chaplin Sr. who got Charlie Chaplin into "The Eight Lancashire Lads," his debut as a professional actor?
« Last Edit: December 28, 2012, 04:08:06 PM by MysteRy »

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #3 on: December 28, 2012, 04:17:10 PM »
The older brother: Sydney

Charlie Chaplin and his brother Sydney were very close and looked out for each other from their childhood days. Four years Charlie’s senior, Sydney played a paternally protective role to his little brother throughout his life. In fact, Charlie Chaplin always credited Sydney for most of his professional and financial success.

When poverty and deprivation struck the tightly knit family, both Sydney and Charlie Chaplin spent some of their darkest days in workhouses. Young as they were, both boys did whatever they could to help their mother. At the age of twelve, Sydney was sent to a training ship called Exmouth and subsequently started to work as a steward on various shipping expeditions. Returning from one of his voyages in 1903, during which he became very ill, he found his mother committed to the mental hospital and his brother Charlie Chaplin living on the streets. Determined to change their lives for the better, with every penny saved from his shipping job, Sydney decided to enter the theaters as did Charlie.

Though younger, it was Charlie Chaplin that got onto the stage first. With the sporadic schooling Charlie had, however, Sydney had to jump in to help him memorize his lines. Thanks to his hard work and talents, Charlie soon secured the role of “Billy the page boy” in Sherlock Holmes and started to tour the country with the troupe. But it wasn't long before Sydney joined the tour too.

What gave Sydney Chaplin a real break was his contract with Fred Karno’s Speechless Comedians in July 1906, one of the most famous and successful entertainment troupes in England. Sydney was so successful with Karno that he became the leading comedian. Two years later, he recommended Charlie Chaplin and helped him land a job with Karno, which eventually led Charlie to the United States.


Later, when Charlie Chaplin was to leave Keystone in 1913, he suggested Sydney as his replacement. Sydney Chaplin made a dozen comedies there and found success with a character he called “Gussle.” With Charlie Chaplin’s rise to stardom, Sydney was soon handling the majority of Charlie's business affairs, negotiating most of his big contracts and appearing in a few films during the First National era, including A Dog's Life, Pay Day, The Pilgrim and the famous 'Shoulder Arms'. In his later films, Sydney Chaplin enjoyed wide popularity for his comedy performances in Charley's Aunt (1925) and The Better 'Ole (1927).

Sydney Chaplin retired from screen in 1928, after finishing A Little Bit of Fluff in Britain, though he continued to worry about his brother Charlie. He resided in the south of France and often visited Charlie Chaplin’s family in Switzerland. Sydney Chaplin died on April 16, 1965, Charlie Chaplin's 76th birthday.

Did you know that Sydney Chaplin toured the United States with the Karno troupe in 1906?

Did you know that it was Sydney Chaplin that got Charlie Chaplin his record-setting million dollar deal with First National in 1917?

Did you know that Sydney’s most successful screen characters are female impersonations?

Did you know that Sydney Chaplin helped with the foundation of United Artists?

Did you know that Sydney Chaplin filmed Charlie Chaplin during the making of the Great Dictator?

Did you know that Sydney Chaplin was known as Julot in France and Charlie as Charlot?

See http://www.sydchaplin.com/

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #4 on: December 28, 2012, 04:35:50 PM »
The younger brother: W. Dryden



The son of Hannah Chaplin and Leo Dryden, Wheeler Dryden was taken away from his mother as a baby. He was touring India and the Far East as a vaudeville comedian when he first learned from his father that the famous Charlie Chaplin was his half brother. After several attempts, Wheeler finally joined the Chaplin brothers and their mother in the 1920s.

Though not as gifted as Chaplin, Wheeler was a competent actor who made his career both on stage and on screen. He became a permanent member of the Chaplin Studios in 1939 when he was appointed assistant director of The Great Dictator. He was later promoted to associate director for Monsieur Verdoux. Wheeler also appeared briefly in Limelight, Charlie Chaplin’s last film made in the U.S. He remained in California after Charlie’s departure and died on September 30, 1957, shortly after A King in New York was released in Europe.

Did you know that Wheeler Dryden wrote a letter in 1917 to Edna Purviance, Charlie Chaplin’s leading lady, after failing to get in touch with Chaplin directly? It was this letter that eventually brought him to the U.S. and united him with the Chaplin brothers.

Did you know that Wheeler Dryden was an actor of Jerry Epstein’s Circle Theater?

Did you know that Wheeler Dryden directed Sydney Chaplin in A Little Bit of Fluff, filmed in England in 1928?

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #5 on: December 28, 2012, 04:58:13 PM »
The Gamine: Paulette Goddard


An Outstanding Woman
Among Chaplin's leading ladies, Paulette Goddard stands out for a number of reasons. She was the female lead in his last silent film (Modern Times 1936) and in his first talkie (The Great Dictator 1940). She enjoyed a success beyond and independent of Chaplin, right up in to the 1970s, with the TV film, The Snoop Sisters (1972) - she made forty-seven films in all. She was something of a match for Chaplin - strong willed, independent, a lover of life - her very personality an influence itself on the characters Charlie wrote for her in her two Chaplin films.


She became his third wife, but unlike the previous two, was strong enough to survive the experience and part company without bitterness or sensationalism. It is difficult not to have an admiration of this free spirit of Hollywood, a town that she may not have got the better of, but that she certainly used as a playground to some extent.

She was born on June 3rd in 1911 as Marion Levy in Whitestone, New York - though her mother called her Pauline from a young age. This soon became Paulette, and the name Goddard came from her wealthy uncle, Charlie Goddard, who was something of an influence on her, mainly thanks to the lavish parties he threw at which a number of the stars of the day would turn up - inspiring the young Paulette to think of a future as a star herself.


It wasn't long before she was modeling Hattie Carnegie fashions, and just three years later saw her on Broadway as a Ziegfeld girl in No Foolin' (1926) and then Rio Rita, jobs probably secured thanks to uncle Charlie's acquaintance with Florenz Ziegfeld. She also had a small part in Archie Selwyn's The Conquering Male. The life of a pretty showgirl would never be short of the attentions of the social elite of New York, and in 1927 she met and married millionaire playboy Edgar James, president of the Southern States Lumber Company of Asheville. Their life together took them to North Carolina where the business was based, but it was not a place, or lifestyle, that Paulette found comfortable. She divorced James, and along with a generous alimony settlement, she headed for Hollywood.

Paulette's first film saw her with a bit part in the Laurel and Hardy short Berth Marks (1929) whilst other films included The Girl Habit (1931), Kid from Spain, Young Ironsides and another Laurel and Hardy picture, Pack Up Your Troubles (all 1932). She was still signed with Hal Roach when she finally met Chaplin in 1932.


Chaplin had been invited for a weekend cruise aboard Joe Schenck's yacht - Schenck was the then president and chairman of United Artists, the company Chaplin had helped to found along with Doug Fairbanks, Mary Pickford and D.W Griffith. Paulette, another guest, was considering investing $50,000 of her alimony payment in a dubious movie company and asked Chaplin's advice. Not only did he persuade her to forget this dodgy deal, but also to revert her hair color to its natural brunette - Paulette had become a Hollywood platinum blonde, possibly in a bid to win her more parts from studios. Obviously taking more than a shine to this pretty and charismatic actress, he bought out her Roach contract and signed her up for himself.


Modern Times
The fruit of their professional relationship was the film Modern Times, whilst their personal relationship became the material of Hollywood gossip columns. This bore other consequences too - on the positive side Chaplin's sons, Charlie Jr. and Sydney, looked up to her as a big sister and loved to play with her and have her around. The flip side of the coin was that Chaplin's dedicated chauffeur and private secretary, Toraichi Kono, felt usurped by Paulette's new found place in the Chaplin home, and resigned (though not before Chaplin gave him and his wife $1000 each and secured a job for him at United Artists Japan). Paulette and Charlie went everywhere together and Charlie even bought a yacht so they could spend Sundays cruising out to Catalina.


Modern Times saw a brilliant team up for Paulette and Charlie - he as the Tramp, and her as the Gamine, surviving by her wit and courage on the waterfront, stealing bananas and handing them out to her fellow urchins. You can see Paulette as many things in this film - a female version of Charlie himself, a loner at odds with the world, making her own rules dictated by circumstance, or, on the same track, the Kid grown up - a female version of course - though this leads again to the Charlie-girl. Perhaps the main difference between them in the film is the way in which their characters defy authority - Charlie with an air of innocence, whilst Paulette certainly does so with intent and purpose. Paulette was pretty much an equal in Modern Times and the ending, the two outsiders against The World silhouetted as they walk off bravely in to their future (and a sunset) gave a new twist to the quintessential Chaplin ending - this time, for the last time, not alone.


When the film had been completed and premiered (at Grauman's Chinese Theatre on February 12th 1936) Chaplin and Paulette went for a trip round the Pacific Rim - taking in Hawaii and Singapore along the way. The major event of this trip was that they were at last married, though neither of them would confirm this to reporters upon their return to California. But it was not all plain sailing. There is little doubt that Charlie and Paulette were very good for each other for a time - and that time was somewhat longer and happier than Charlie's involvement with either of his two previous wives, but they did eventually begin to drift apart. Paulette had some involvement with George Gershwin (other men in her life besides her marriages included Clark Gable, John Wayne and Howard Hughes), and Charlie had been seen about with comedienne Thelma Todd.

The Great Dictator


Generally, they remained on good terms, however, and by the time Chaplin was ready to make his next film (The Great Dictator) Paulette was to be his leading lady once again. There were a few other films before this one for Paulette. They included yet another Laurel and Hardy feature, The Bohemian Girl (1936), two highly thought of films in 1939 - The Women (with Joan Crawford) and the Cat and the Canary (with Bob Hope), and also Second Chorus in 1940 with Fred Astaire. In 1938 she was a serious contender for the part of Scarlett O'Hara in Gone with the Wind (it eventually went to Vivien Leigh). By 1940 however, she was well on her to becoming a major Hollywood star and had a ten year contract with Paramount Studios.


For Chaplin's first talkie she was cast much more as second fiddle to Charlie's excellent performances as both the Jewish barber and the mad dictator himself, Adenoid Hynkel, though her scenes in which she does battle with the stormtroopers in the streets of the ghetto are one of the highlights of the film. Again she plays her character feisty and determined, though less of a motivator than the gamine, and once she leaves the country with her family she is pretty much ignored until the ending and Charlie's words of 'wherever you are, look up Hannah!'.

After Charlie Chaplin
Not long after The Great Dictator, Charlie and Paulette made their estrangement official by way of divorce. Paulette received another alimony payment and the yacht that Chaplin had bought during their courtship (part of the settlement was also to include one more film directed by Chaplin for Paulette - this never happened). But the 1940s saw her career just get better and better as she appeared in a huge number of films. These included Nothing but the Truth, Hold Back the Dawn, The Lady Has Plans, The Forest Rangers, Standing Room Only, I Love a Soldier, Kitty, Diary of a Chambermaid, Variety Girl, Unconquered, Ideal Husband, The Torch and Bride of Vengeance. For So Proudly We Hail! she was nominated for Best Supporting Actress (won that year by Katina Paxinou in For Whom the Bell Tolls).

It has been said that Paulette quarreled with director Cecil B. DeMille on the set of Unconquered which in turn led to a lower volume in her career and a relegation to the B-Movies of the industry for most of the 50's - including Babes in Bagdad, Paris Model and Vice Squad. Her last film for the silver screen was in 1964 - Time of Indifference (or Gli Indifferenti).

Her personal life was no less lively than her screen career. In 1944 she married actor Burgess Meredith. They divorced in 1950 and eight years later she married the German novelist Erich Maria Remarque, author of the classic All Quiet on the Western Front. Another novelist and a close friend of Paulette's, Anita Loos, claimed that Paulette was the inspiration for her heroine in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes - Loos would later say "Gentlemen prefer blondes, until they get a load of Paulette!".

Sydney (Charlie's son) would stay in touch with his one-time step mother, as this story from Jerry Epstein's Remembering Charlie testifies;

'Sydney would always invite Paulette Goddard [to his performances at the Circle Theatre]... ... Whenever she came, her infectious laugh set off the audience, and made many of our shows a hit. For the Rain premiere, she arrived every inch the movie queen, with a long evening gown and tiara, and sat on the front row. She found Oona and Charlie sitting on one side, and Charlie's second wife [and Sydney's mother], Lita Grey, on the other. Never before had three of Charlie's wives been in one room together. Charlie took it all in his stride.'

Like Chaplin, Paulette's life ended in Switzerland. She and Remarque had moved there and on one occasion they even chanced upon the Chaplins (Charlie and Oona) in a restaurant and joined each other for dinner. Remarque died in 1970, but Paulette survived him by twenty years, dying on the 23rd of April 1990 from heart failure.

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #6 on: December 28, 2012, 05:06:46 PM »
Charlie Chaplin's Wives


Mildred Harris
The first was Mildred Harris (1901-1944), they married in 1918 after Mildred believed she was pregnant - it was a false alarm, though she did later give birth to Charlie's first child, who sadly only lived for three days. Their divorce, in 1920, was acrimonious. Mildred was an actress who appeared in a few films such as The Inferior Sex and For Husbands Only.

Lita Grey
His second wife was Lita Grey (1908-1995). She played the flirtatious angel in The Kid and one of Edna's maids in The Idle Class, and started out as the leading lady for The Gold Rush before falling for Charlie and then falling pregnant. She had two children with Chaplin, Charles Jr. and Sydney Earl. This marriage (1924-1927) also came to a bitter end in court. Lita carried on in Vaudeville quite successfully, but eventually had problems with alcohol. Her later years were spent working as a sales assistant in Beverly Hills.


Paulette Goddard
Charlie Chaplin’s third marriage lasted from 1936 to 1942 and was to Paulette Goddard (1911-1990), the actress who appeared in Modern Times and The Great Dictator. Though Charlie and Paulette divorced, it was by all accounts, on amicable terms.


Oona O'Neill
When Charlie Chaplin married Oona O’Neill in June 1943, he at last found true happiness, and it seems they had both found their soul mates, despite the fact that Oona was only 18, and Charlie was 53. They met when Charlie Chaplin considered her for a part in an unmade film, Shadow and Substance (during 1942) and were inseparable from then on. She supported Charlie totally throughout a particularly harrowing court case in the 1940's and when he was exiled from the U.S. in 1952.


They eventually made their home in Switzerland. Together Oona and Charlie Chaplin had eight children (Geraldine, Michael, Josephine, Victoria, Eugene, Jane, Annette and Christopher).

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #7 on: December 28, 2012, 07:28:05 PM »
Chaplin & Music


A Music-Hall childhood


Charles Chaplin recalled that in his early childhood his mother, a music-hall singer, would take him with her to the theatre, where he would stand in the wings listening to her and the other acts that made up the show:

“Mother usually brought me to the theatre at night in preference to leaving me alone in rented rooms."

He also recalled seeing his father, a well known vocalist also called Charles Chaplin, perform at the Canterbury Music Hall; and recounted how at home, in the happier times, his mother would regularly entertain him and his step-brother by singing, dancing, reciting and imitating other artists. His own very first appearance on the stage, at the age of five, was precipitated when his mother was performing before a tough audience, mostly made up of soldiers, at the Aldershot Canteen. When her voice cracked and she was unable to continue, Charlie was pushed on in her place. Already a natural performer, it seems, he sang two current song success, pausing in between to pick up the coins thrown by the surprised and amused audience.


Aside from the experience of growing up surrounded by the songs of the music hall, Chaplin later often told the story of the revelatory day that “music entered my soul”. Returning home from school to an empty house, he waited for hours for someone to arrive, then wandered off into the streets, where:

“Suddenly, there was music. Rapturous! It came from the vestibule of the White Hart corner pub, and resounded brilliantly in the empty square. The tune was The Honeysorryle and the Bee, played with radiant virtuosity on a harmonium and clarinet. I had never been conscious of melody before, but this one was beautiful and lyrical, so blithe and gay, so warm and reassuring. I forgot my despair and crossed the road to where the musicians were. . . .It was here that I first discovered music, or where I first learned its rare beauty, a beauty that has gladdened and haunted me from that moment…”

In 1898, aged 9, Charlie began his own career in English music hall, with a troupe of juvenile clog dancers, “The Eight Lancashire Lads”.

The role of music in the Karno comedy sketches


He was to remain in the theatre, alternating various jobs and periods of unemployment, until he ended up as one of the stars of Fred Karno’s comedy sketch companies. With Karno’s companies he went to America to tour vaudeville circuits that spanned the continent. His powerful response to music clearly influenced his comic pantomime, which from the start was marked by a strong rhythmical and balletic character.

Music played an important part in the Karno comedy sketches, which achieved, for example, effective comic contrast by accompanying gross slapstick with delicate 18th century melodies. Stan Laurel, a fellow Karno performer, recalled in an interview with John McCabe that during the 1912 US tour Charlie:

“Carried his violin wherever he could. Had the strings reversed so he could play left handed, and he would practise for hours. He bought a cello once and used to carry it around with him. At these times he would always dress like a musician, a long fawn coloured overcoat with green velvet cuffs and collar and a slouch hat. And he’d let his hair grow long at the back. We never knew what he was going to do next.”

Chaplin himself recalled that:

“On this tour I carried my violin and cello. Since the age of sixteen I had practised from four to six hours a day in my bedroom. Each week I took lessons from the theatre conductor or from someone he recommended. As I played left handed, my violin was strung left handed with the bass bar and sounding post reversed. I had great ambitions to be a concert artist, or, failing that, to use it in a vaudeville act, but as time went on I realised that I could never achieve excellence, so I gave it up.”
In the book “My Life in Pictures” Chaplin wrote ironically:
“As for the cello, I could pose well with it but that’s about all.”

In Paris at the Folies Bergère, Debussy asked to meet Chaplin – still barely 20 years old – after seeing the Karno show, and told him : “You are instinctively a musician and a dancer”. At the time, Charlie had no idea who was paying him such a compliment, but in his autobiography remarked that it was the very year “Debussy introduced his Prélude à L’Après Midi d’un Faune to England, where it was booed and the audience walked out”.

The Charles Chaplin Music company
At the end of 1913, Chaplin left Karno to remain in America and work in moving pictures. At one point in his early career he went to the Metropolitan Opera House in New York to see Tannhäuser.

“I had never seen grand opera, only excerpts of it in vaudeville – and I loathed it. But now I was in the humour for it. I bought a ticket and sat in the second circle. The opera was in German and I did not understand a word of it, nor did I know the story. But when the dead Queen was carried on to the music of the Pilgrim’s chorus, I wept bitterly. It seemed to sum up all the travail of my life. (…) I came away limp and emotionally shattered.”


In his film work, music remained ubiquitous:

“ Simple little tunes gave me the image for comedies. In one called 20 Minutes of Love, full of rough stuff and nonsense in parks, with policemen and nursemaids, I weaved in and out of situations to the tune of Too Much Mustard, a popular two step in 1914.”

Soon Chaplin’s fame was so great that he himself became the subject of vaudeville songs: “Ziegfeld Follies Girls were doing Chaplin numbers, marring their beauty with moustaches, derby hats, big shoes and baggy trousers, singing a song called Those Charlie Chaplin Feet.”

While working with the Mutual Film Company he was delighted to have the opportunity to meet such prominent musicians as Paderewski and Leopold Godovsky. In 1916 he even set up his own music publishing company in association with Bert Clark, an English vaudeville comedian:

“We had rented a room three storeys up in a down town office building and printed two thousand copies of 2 very bad songs and musical compositions of mine – then we waited for customers. The enterprise was collegiate and quite mad. I think we sold three copies, one to Charles Cadman, the American composer, and two to pedestrians who happened to pass our office on their way downstairs.”

In fact the Charles Chaplin Music Company closed shop after publishing his first three songs: “ Oh! That Cello”, “ There’s Always One you Can’t Forget”, and “The Peace Patrol”. Film remained his most important concern, and in 1918 he built his own studios where he could exert total production control.

Chaplin composes his own scores
He frequently wrote theme songs which were published to coincide with the release of the films. Notably, when The Gold Rush was released, he recorded its theme songs with the Abe Lyman Orchestra.


In the silent period it was usual to commission professional arrangers to devise suitable musical accompaniments for major films. These were generally compiled from published music, and then performed live by whatever instrumental combinations each individual cinema could afford.

At least as early as A Woman of Paris (1923), however, Chaplin was involving himself closely in the musical accompaniment for his films. The coming of talking pictures found Chaplin understandably reluctant to abandon the universally understood medium of pantomime, but:

“One happy thing about sound was that I could control the music, so I composed my own. I tried to compose elegant and romantic music to frame my comedies in contrast to the tramp character, for elegant music gave my comedies an emotional dimension. Musical arrangers rarely understood this. They wanted the music to be funny. But I would explain that I wanted no competition, I wanted the music to be a counterpoint of grave and charm, to express sentiment, without which, as Hazlitt says, a work of art is incomplete. Sometimes a musician would get pompous with me and talk of the restricted intervals of the chromatic and the diatonic scale, and I would cut him short with a layman’s remark; ‘Whatever the melody is, the rest is just a vamp.’ After putting music to one or two pictures I began to look at a conductor’s score with a professional eye and to know whether a composition was over-orchestrated or not. If I saw a lot of notes in the brass and woodwind section, I would say: “That’s too black in the brass,” or “too busy in the woodwinds”. Nothing is more adventurous and exciting than to hear the tunes one has composed played for the first time by a fifty piece orchestra."


In 1940, talking about the music for The Great Dictator , Chaplin said in an interview:

“Film music must never sound as if it were concert music. While it actually may convey more to the beholder-listener than the camera conveys at a given moment, still it must be never more than the voice of that camera”.

His musical arranger at the time, Meredith Willson, said of him:

“I have never met a man who devoted himself so completely to the ideal of perfection as Charlie Chaplin. (…) I was constantly amazed at his attention to details, his feeling for the exact musical phrase or tempo to express the mood he wanted… Always he is seeking to ferret out every false note however minor from film or music”.


During his American career, Chaplin counted among his friends and acquaintances many well known composers and musicians, among them Rachmaninov, Horowitz, Stravinsky, Hanns Eisler, and Schoenberg…

“After seeing my film Modern Times, he told me that he enjoyed the comedy but my music was very bad”). Later, in his Autobiography, he paid this compliment to them :

“Writers are nice people but not very giving; whatever they know they seldom impart to others; most of them keep it between the covers of their books. Scientists might be excellent company, but their mere appearance in a drawing room mentally paralyses the rest of us. Painters are a bore because most of them would have you believe they are philosophers more than painters. Poets are undoubtedly the superior class and as individuals are pleasant, tolerant and excellent companions. But I think musicians in the aggregate are more cooperative than any other class. There is nothing so warm and moving as the sight of a symphony orchestra. The romantic lights of their music stands, the tuning up and the sudden silence as the conductor makes his entrance, affirms the social, cooperative feeling.”

Even though he could never actually write down music on paper, he continued to work with dedication on the music for all his films. (Of the score of City Lights he said:

“I really didn’t write it down, I la-laed and Arthur Johnston wrote it down. (..) It is all simple music, you know, in keeping with my character.”

According to the composer-conductor Timothy Brock, who has restored and conducted a number of Chaplin scores:

“Although untrained in traditional western musical notation, Chaplin was nevertheless a gifted musician with an innate sense of musical construction. Though he engaged different arrangers and orchestrators to notate his thematic material, his gift for melody and harmony, and his ability to accompany action perfectly, remain a germinal voice identifiable throughout his films. Like his famous character, his scores employ a perfect balance of comedy, pathos and skill.”

In 1942 he returned to the 1925 The Gold Rush replacing the inter-title cards of the silent film with his own voice-over narration, and adding a musical score. Later he took obvious pleasure in creating the pastiches of Edwardian music hall songs and acts for Limelight and, in contrast, writing parodies of 50s “pop” songs for A King in New York .The love for pastiche and parody is not limited to the music – his lyrics too are full of humour and word-play, for example, “I don’t want to be a tree, sticking in the ground, I’d rather be a flea”, “If I could only find a will to get away” or “I despise you, idolise you, I adore you, I implore you…” The infinite pleasure to be found in listening to these songs no doubt stems from the pleasure Chaplin clearly took in writing them. Later in his life, by this time living in Switzerland, he composed and recorded music for all his films made between 1918 and 1923. The Chaplin family archives hold many audio tapes of Chaplin working alone on the piano, improvising and humming as he composed. He once said that even if he did not remember how a tune went, he could remember the pattern it made on the black and white notes of the keyboard.


In his family home in Switzerland, Chaplin continued to the end of his life to develop his love and knowledge of music and to entertain musicians, among them Arthur Rubinstein, Isaac Stern, Rudolf Serkin, and Clara Haskil. His daughter Josephine has nostalgic memories of how, regularly after supper, he would insist that the lights were turned off, and that the family listen by candle-light to record after record of classical music.

Music had, indeed, “entered his soul”.

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #8 on: December 28, 2012, 07:39:48 PM »
Chaplin & Music


Introduction
The credit title on City Lights, “Music composed by Charles Chaplin”, brought a surprised and indulgent raising of eyebrows. Because of the occurrence of phrases, here and there, from some familiar melodies, inserted, in most cases, for comic effect, and the use of “La Violetera” (Who’ll buy my Violets [By José Padilla]) as a theme for the blind flower girl, Chaplin was assumed, by some, to be stretching his claim to everything in the film.


Attitudes changed with the subsequent appearances of Chaplin scores in "Modern Times", "The Great Dictator", and "Monsieur Verdoux" (The two latter talkies with occasional musical interludes and “background music”), and with the full score for the reissued "The Gold Rush". A quality, which can only be described as “Chaplinesque” was discerned and commented upon in this music, despite the fact that it was arranged and orchestrated by other hands.

Those who still believe that Chaplin merely hummed a tune ot two and that “real musicians” did the rest have only to listen to the scores of several of his films. The style is marked and individual. It shows a fondness for romantic waltz hesitations played in very rubato time, lively numbers in two-four time which might be called “promenade themes”, and tangos with a strong beat.

It can now be seen that Chaplin’s music is an integral part of his film conceptions. In similar fashion D.W Griffith also composed some musical themes for his pictures. But perhaps of no other one man can it be said that he wrote, directed, acted, and scored a motion picture.


Incidentally, Chaplin even conducted the orchestra, himself, during recordings, an added reason for the satisfying impression of wholeness in the Chaplin films.

Music through his Life
Although musically untrained, Chaplin nevertheless has the advantages of a musical inheritance from his ballad-singer father, the natural endowment of a quick ear, and a superb sense of rhythm, a taste for the art, experience with it on the stage, and an amateur performer’s devotion to it.

In “My Trip Abroad” there is a passage describing his first consciousness of music. As a boy, in Kennington Cross, he was enraptured by a weird duet on clarinet and harmonica, to a tune he later identified as the popular song, “The Honeysorryle and the bee”. “It was played with such feeling that I became conscious, for the first time, of what melody really was”

According to Fred Karno’s biography, young Chaplin spent much of his leisure time between shows picking out tunes on an old cello. When Chaplin was signed by the Essanay Company, he bought a violin on which he scraped for hours at night, to the annoyance of less wakeful actors when they all lived next to the studio at Niles, California.


While he was being feted during the negociations with the Mutual Company in New York, Chaplin, appearing at a benefit concert at the old Hippodrome (February 20, 1916), led Sousa’s band in the “Poet and Peasant” overture and his own composition “The Peace Patrol”. That same year Chaplin published two songs “Oh that cello” and “There’s always someone you can’t forget”, which was a musical tribute to his first romance.

In the twenties he made records of his “Sing a song” and “With you, Dear, in Bombay”, both later used in the sound version of "The Gold Rush". Subsequent years saw the publication of a theme from "The Great Dictator" to a lyric entitled “Falling Star”, and three numbers from "Monsieur Verdoux" : “A Paris Boulevard”, “Tango Bitterness”, and “Rumba”.


After Chaplin made his first million, he installed a pipe organ in his Beverly Hills mansion. In certain moods he is known to have fingered this expensive instrument for hours at a time. Realizing the importance of musical accompaniment to the silent film, Chaplin sought to have it reproduced in every theatre exactly as he wished it. He supervised the cue sheets (lists of numbers to be played, sent free to all theatres booking a film) of his pictures from "The Kid" (1921) up to "City Lights" (1931) – when it was possible to have the music recorded on the film itself. Then it also was commercially expedient to claim at least “music and sound effects” since by 1931 the silent picture has been superseded by the talkie.

The Music of City Lights
Arthur Johnston and Alfred Newman arranged and orchestrated the music for "City Lights", Chaplin’s outstanding score. But the melodies, with the exceptions noted above, used for the associations they would evoke, were composed by Chaplin. At least twenty numbers in the score could be published as separate and original works. As was customary in the scoring for silent pictures, the Wagnerian leitmotiv system was followed – a distinctive musical theme associated with which character and idea. The musical cues in "City Lights" come to some ninety-five, not accounting the passages where the music follows or mimics the action in what is generally known as “mickey-mousing” from its use in the scoring of animated cartoons.

A fanfare on trumpets, over a night scene, opens the picture proper. It is heard again as a sort of fate theme at moments of crises, such as the count over Charlie in the boxing ring, and his capture and imprisonment. Saxophone bleating, in slightly off synchronization with the lips, mimics the speakers at the unveiling of the moment. This shrill squeaking is used not only as a comic note itself, but as a burlesque of the talkies. When Charlie is ordered down, a bustling “galop” number in G minorn, played in fast tempo, accompanies his scrambling over the statues. The Tramp’s wanderings through the city streets are accompanied by a gallant bitter-sweet melody mostly on the cello. The theme is repeated seven times when he is in hopeful moods. The flower girl’s principal theme is José Padilla’s “La Violetera”, and phrases of it are played behind the Tramp, when it is pertinent to indicate that his thoughts dwell on her. She had two subsidiary themes, one a pathetique for scenes in her slum room, and the other a violin caprice, for her wistful moments.


The music behind the tramp’s meeting with the eccentric millionaire is an amusing burlesque of opera. A dramatic theme introduces him and is followed by an over-dramatic agitato as he ties the suicide noose. Charlie’s dissuasions are musically rendered in burlesqued opera recitative. Another kind of music is kidded in the accompaniment to Charlie’s promise that “Tomorrow the birds will sing” – the “April-showers, silver-lining, rainbow-round-my-shoulder” sort of “theme song” that echoed through early talkies, particularly in the Al Jolson films. In later sequences the tramp has only to point upward in mock-heroic fashion; no title is necessary, the music “tells” what he is saying.


The nightclub music for the “burning up the town” is a hectic jazz theme with a long sustained high note and marked rhythm. A rumba-like number accompanies the party scene where the tramp swallows the whistle. When the millionaire wakes sober, to find a stranger sharing his bed, there is a snatch of Rimsky-Korsakov’s ballet “Scheherazade” – played in duet form – in low register for the perplexed millionaire and high for the tramp. In like manner bits of “How dry I am”, “I hear you calling me”, etc…are called upon for comic comments.

There are two love themes – one a light romantic waltz played very rubato to action, and a tragic piece associated with the Tramp’s hopeless love. Played also behind the tragic of the picture, with its grim and fateful chords, the second has a distinct Puccini flavor.

A sprightly theme on the bassoon accompanies many of the tramp’s more humorous moments, such as his mishaps behind the streetcleaner’s cart; and there is a singularly amusing use of a tango during the boxing sequence. The fight itself is underlined by a feverish musical “hurry”, also used behind other fast action.

It is true that one or two of the minor numbers are reminiscent. A short dance piece resembles “I want to be happy”. The famous apache dance is a paraphrase. The crooked-fighter theme sounds a bit like “Lock Cut for Jimmy Valentine”. Some Debussy chords herald the morning, and the “Second Hungarian Rhapsody” is cleverly jazzed up for a little chase scene. A film eighty-seven minutes long calls for a score of about a hundred and fifty pages and a little “borrowing” here and there can be overlooked.


"City Lights" ends with the following music. The tramp, let out of prison, searches for the blind girl.

Sequence * Music*

Cue 91. Tramp comes to corner where “La Violetera”[by José Padilla] Girl used to sell flowers… (Played slowly)

Cue 92. Tramp wanders the streets… Tramp Theme

                        (played slowly and tragically)
Cue 93. Tramp finds flowers in gutter… “La Violetera” [by José Padilla]

                        (normal tempo) 
Cue 94. He turns to the girl in the window Violin Caprice Of her shop laughing at him… (secondary girl theme)

Cue 95. Girl touches hand of tramp… Tragic love theme

Incidentally, sound effects are sparingly used, and then only for deliberately pointed effects, like the swallowed whistly, bells, the firing of revolvers etc... Falls and blows are not accented by traps, nor are there the other tasteless noises by ratchets, etc…that have featured so many “revivals with sound added”, copies from the distracting technique of sound cartoons. Above all, the human voice is not employed, an artistic mistake too often made in attempts to bring old silent pictures “up to date”.

The haunting and pleasant Chaplin melodies in "City Lights" are pleasing in themselves, but the picture is one of the few extant examples of the silent medium’s power when wedded to a musical score which properly interprets the action and heightens the emotion. The legend has grown that silent pictures were accompanied by a thinkling piano, either played thumpily in the so-called “nickelodeon” manner, or in a more dignified, but essentially neutral style. Actually, from 1914 on, every town of five thousand or over had at least a three-piece orchestra – or an organ. The Griffith and Fairbanks films, specials like “The Covered Wagon” and “The Big parade”, all had orchestras travelling with them, playing scores as carefully worked out as "City Lights".

By strict musical standards Chaplin’s score may not equal those of Virgil Thompson, Max Steiner, Georges Auric or William Walton. Thompson’s scoring for “The River” and “Louisiana Story”, with extremely clever arrangements of old folk tunes, is far more sophisticated and intellectual. Nor does Chaplin possess the virtuosity and present grandiose manner of Steiner, where too often sheer bombast attempts to make up for the emotional vacuity in the picture itself. But who, better than Chaplin, could point up musically the tragic-comic adventures of the tramp character he himself created ?

Extract from « Charlie Chaplin » by Theodore Huff, published by Henry Schuman Inc., New York 1951

Chapter XXV _ Chaplin as a composer_

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #9 on: December 29, 2012, 02:59:53 PM »
Chaplin as a composer


Introduction
The credit title on City Lights, “Music composed by Charles Chaplin”, brought a surprised and indulgent raising of eyebrows. Because of the occurrence of phrases, here and there, from some familiar melodies, inserted, in most cases, for comic effect, and the use of “La Violetera” (Who’ll buy my Violets [By José Padilla]) as a theme for the blind flower girl, Chaplin was assumed, by some, to be stretching his claim to everything in the film.


Attitudes changed with the subsequent appearances of Chaplin scores in "Modern Times", "The Great Dictator", and "Monsieur Verdoux" (The two latter talkies with occasional musical interludes and “background music”), and with the full score for the reissued "The Gold Rush". A quality, which can only be described as “Chaplinesque” was discerned and commented upon in this music, despite the fact that it was arranged and orchestrated by other hands.

Those who still believe that Chaplin merely hummed a tune ot two and that “real musicians” did the rest have only to listen to the scores of several of his films. The style is marked and individual. It shows a fondness for romantic waltz hesitations played in very rubato time, lively numbers in two-four time which might be called “promenade themes”, and tangos with a strong beat.

It can now be seen that Chaplin’s music is an integral part of his film conceptions. In similar fashion D.W Griffith also composed some musical themes for his pictures. But perhaps of no other one man can it be said that he wrote, directed, acted, and scored a motion picture.

[image]http://www.charliechaplin.com/images/photos/0000/1015/CC_conducting_the_Abe_Lyman_orchestra_1925_X_205_big.jpg[/image]

Incidentally, Chaplin even conducted the orchestra, himself, during recordings, an added reason for the satisfying impression of wholeness in the Chaplin films.

Music through his Life
Although musically untrained, Chaplin nevertheless has the advantages of a musical inheritance from his ballad-singer father, the natural endowment of a quick ear, and a superb sense of rhythm, a taste for the art, experience with it on the stage, and an amateur performer’s devotion to it.

In “My Trip Abroad” there is a passage describing his first consciousness of music. As a boy, in Kennington Cross, he was enraptured by a weird duet on clarinet and harmonica, to a tune he later identified as the popular song, “The Honeysorryle and the bee”. “It was played with such feeling that I became conscious, for the first time, of what melody really was”

According to Fred Karno’s biography, young Chaplin spent much of his leisure time between shows picking out tunes on an old cello. When Chaplin was signed by the Essanay Company, he bought a violin on which he scraped for hours at night, to the annoyance of less wakeful actors when they all lived next to the studio at Niles, California.


While he was being feted during the negociations with the Mutual Company in New York, Chaplin, appearing at a benefit concert at the old Hippodrome (February 20, 1916), led Sousa’s band in the “Poet and Peasant” overture and his own composition “The Peace Patrol”. That same year Chaplin published two songs “Oh that cello” and “There’s always someone you can’t forget”, which was a musical tribute to his first romance.

In the twenties he made records of his “Sing a song” and “With you, Dear, in Bombay”, both later used in the sound version of "The Gold Rush". Subsequent years saw the publication of a theme from "The Great Dictator" to a lyric entitled “Falling Star”, and three numbers from "Monsieur Verdoux" : “A Paris Boulevard”, “Tango Bitterness”, and “Rumba”.


After Chaplin made his first million, he installed a pipe organ in his Beverly Hills mansion. In certain moods he is known to have fingered this expensive instrument for hours at a time. Realizing the importance of musical accompaniment to the silent film, Chaplin sought to have it reproduced in every theatre exactly as he wished it. He supervised the cue sheets (lists of numbers to be played, sent free to all theatres booking a film) of his pictures from "The Kid" (1921) up to "City Lights" (1931) – when it was possible to have the music recorded on the film itself. Then it also was commercially expedient to claim at least “music and sound effects” since by 1931 the silent picture has been superseded by the talkie.

The Music of City Lights
Arthur Johnston and Alfred Newman arranged and orchestrated the music for "City Lights", Chaplin’s outstanding score. But the melodies, with the exceptions noted above, used for the associations they would evoke, were composed by Chaplin. At least twenty numbers in the score could be published as separate and original works. As was customary in the scoring for silent pictures, the Wagnerian leitmotiv system was followed – a distinctive musical theme associated with which character and idea. The musical cues in "City Lights" come to some ninety-five, not accounting the passages where the music follows or mimics the action in what is generally known as “mickey-mousing” from its use in the scoring of animated cartoons.

A fanfare on trumpets, over a night scene, opens the picture proper. It is heard again as a sort of fate theme at moments of crises, such as the count over Charlie in the boxing ring, and his capture and imprisonment. Saxophone bleating, in slightly off synchronization with the lips, mimics the speakers at the unveiling of the moment. This shrill squeaking is used not only as a comic note itself, but as a burlesque of the talkies. When Charlie is ordered down, a bustling “galop” number in G minorn, played in fast tempo, accompanies his scrambling over the statues. The Tramp’s wanderings through the city streets are accompanied by a gallant bitter-sweet melody mostly on the cello. The theme is repeated seven times when he is in hopeful moods. The flower girl’s principal theme is José Padilla’s “La Violetera”, and phrases of it are played behind the Tramp, when it is pertinent to indicate that his thoughts dwell on her. She had two subsidiary themes, one a pathetique for scenes in her slum room, and the other a violin caprice, for her wistful moments.


The music behind the tramp’s meeting with the eccentric millionaire is an amusing burlesque of opera. A dramatic theme introduces him and is followed by an over-dramatic agitato as he ties the suicide noose. Charlie’s dissuasions are musically rendered in burlesqued opera recitative. Another kind of music is kidded in the accompaniment to Charlie’s promise that “Tomorrow the birds will sing” – the “April-showers, silver-lining, rainbow-round-my-shoulder” sort of “theme song” that echoed through early talkies, particularly in the Al Jolson films. In later sequences the tramp has only to point upward in mock-heroic fashion; no title is necessary, the music “tells” what he is saying.


The nightclub music for the “burning up the town” is a hectic jazz theme with a long sustained high note and marked rhythm. A rumba-like number accompanies the party scene where the tramp swallows the whistle. When the millionaire wakes sober, to find a stranger sharing his bed, there is a snatch of Rimsky-Korsakov’s ballet “Scheherazade” – played in duet form – in low register for the perplexed millionaire and high for the tramp. In like manner bits of “How dry I am”, “I hear you calling me”, etc…are called upon for comic comments.

There are two love themes – one a light romantic waltz played very rubato to action, and a tragic piece associated with the Tramp’s hopeless love. Played also behind the tragic of the picture, with its grim and fateful chords, the second has a distinct Puccini flavor.

A sprightly theme on the bassoon accompanies many of the tramp’s more humorous moments, such as his mishaps behind the streetcleaner’s cart; and there is a singularly amusing use of a tango during the boxing sequence. The fight itself is underlined by a feverish musical “hurry”, also used behind other fast action.

It is true that one or two of the minor numbers are reminiscent. A short dance piece resembles “I want to be happy”. The famous apache dance is a paraphrase. The crooked-fighter theme sounds a bit like “Lock Cut for Jimmy Valentine”. Some Debussy chords herald the morning, and the “Second Hungarian Rhapsody” is cleverly jazzed up for a little chase scene. A film eighty-seven minutes long calls for a score of about a hundred and fifty pages and a little “borrowing” here and there can be overlooked.


"City Lights" ends with the following music. The tramp, let out of prison, searches for the blind girl.

Sequence * Music*

Cue 91. Tramp comes to corner where “La Violetera”[by José Padilla] Girl used to sell flowers… (Played slowly)

Cue 92. Tramp wanders the streets… Tramp Theme

                        (played slowly and tragically)
Cue 93. Tramp finds flowers in gutter… “La Violetera” [by José Padilla]

                        (normal tempo) 
Cue 94. He turns to the girl in the window Violin Caprice Of her shop laughing at him… (secondary girl theme)

Cue 95. Girl touches hand of tramp… Tragic love theme

Incidentally, sound effects are sparingly used, and then only for deliberately pointed effects, like the swallowed whistly, bells, the firing of revolvers etc... Falls and blows are not accented by traps, nor are there the other tasteless noises by ratchets, etc…that have featured so many “revivals with sound added”, copies from the distracting technique of sound cartoons. Above all, the human voice is not employed, an artistic mistake too often made in attempts to bring old silent pictures “up to date”.

The haunting and pleasant Chaplin melodies in "City Lights" are pleasing in themselves, but the picture is one of the few extant examples of the silent medium’s power when wedded to a musical score which properly interprets the action and heightens the emotion. The legend has grown that silent pictures were accompanied by a thinkling piano, either played thumpily in the so-called “nickelodeon” manner, or in a more dignified, but essentially neutral style. Actually, from 1914 on, every town of five thousand or over had at least a three-piece orchestra – or an organ. The Griffith and Fairbanks films, specials like “The Covered Wagon” and “The Big parade”, all had orchestras travelling with them, playing scores as carefully worked out as "City Lights".

By strict musical standards Chaplin’s score may not equal those of Virgil Thompson, Max Steiner, Georges Auric or William Walton. Thompson’s scoring for “The River” and “Louisiana Story”, with extremely clever arrangements of old folk tunes, is far more sophisticated and intellectual. Nor does Chaplin possess the virtuosity and present grandiose manner of Steiner, where too often sheer bombast attempts to make up for the emotional vacuity in the picture itself. But who, better than Chaplin, could point up musically the tragic-comic adventures of the tramp character he himself created ?

Extract from « Charlie Chaplin » by Theodore Huff, published by Henry Schuman Inc., New York 1951

Chapter XXV _ Chaplin as a composer_

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #10 on: December 29, 2012, 03:15:16 PM »
Chaplin while Filming
Chaplin at Keystone: The Tramp is Born



Building on traditions forged in the commedia dell’arte which he learned in the British music halls, Charles Chaplin brought traditional theatrical forms into an emerging medium and changed both cinema and culture in the process. The birth of modern screen comedy occurred when Chaplin donned his derby hat, affixed his toothbrush moustache, and stepped into his impossibly large shoes for the first time at the Keystone Film Company. The comedies Chaplin made for Keystone chart his rapid evolution from music hall sketch comedy artiste to master film comedian and director.

It would be easy to mistake the story of how Chaplin stumbled into his first motion-picture contract as the plot of a Chaplin comedy, were it not true. Alfred Reeves, manager of the Fred Karno theatrical company touring in America, received a telegram at the Nixon Theatre in Philadelphia on May 12, 1913, which read, “IS THERE A MAN NAMED CHAFFIN IN YOUR COMPANY OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT STOP IF SO WILL HE COMMUNICATE WITH KESSEL AND BAUMANN 24 LONGACRE BUILDING BROADWAY.” (1)

Reeves, believing the telegram must be referring to Chaplin, showed it to him. When Chaplin discovered that the tenants of the Longacre Building were mostly attorneys, he imagined that his great-aunt, Elizabeth Wiggins, had died and left him an inheritance. He immediately arranged a day trip to New York City.

Chaplin was disappointed to discover that the telegram had been sent by Adam Kessel Jr. and Charles O. Baumann, owners of the New York Motion Picture Company, who wanted to sign him as a comedian with the Keystone Film Company. Keystone’s lead comedy player, Ford Sterling, was intending to leave to start his own company, and they needed a replacement. An official of the New York Motion Picture Company and Mack Sennett, who ran Keystone, had both seen Chaplin in one of his tours and recognized his potential for film comedy. Chaplin was lured to accept the Keystone offer by the large salary: $150 weekly for three months raised to $175 weekly for the rest of the year; which was more than double his Karno salary of $75 a week. In September 1913 he signed his first film contract for a period of one year with the Keystone Film Company, beginning December 13, 1913. (2)

Chaplin had considered appearing in motion pictures before he received the offer from Keystone, wanting to purchase the motion-picture rights to all of Fred Karno’s sketches and make films of them. Ironically, Chaplin actually believed that making movies would help his stage career. He had seen some Keystone films and was not particularly impressed. “I was not terribly enthusiastic about the Keystone type of comedy, but I realized their publicity value. A year at that racket and I could return to vaudeville an international star,” he had surmised. (3)

Motion-picture comedy began with a simple comic situation, in the Lumiére Brothers’ L’Arroseur arrosé (Watering the Gardener, 1895) in which a boy steps on a garden hose as a gardener waters a lawn, cutting off the water, only to step off just as the gardener peers quizzically at the nozzle and is doused with the restored flow of water. Soon the chase developed as the essential element of comedy. In Europe, Pathé Frères, the great French film company, made trick and chase films. America lagged behind Europe in the development of film comedy, and Chaplin was not the first comic star of the cinema. Foremost of the Europeans was Max Linder of France, a gifted artist who had been making films since 1905 for Pathé, and cinema’s first international comedy star. His style and technique influenced Chaplin. Linder’s character was a resourceful and gallant boulevardier who ingeniously managed to extricate himself from the many predicaments that confronted him. Other star comedians, such as Polidor and Rigadin (Charles Prince), were popular as well prior to World War I when continental Europe rather than American production dominated even American screens. Chaplin was not even the first comic film star in America. That distinction goes to the fat and genial John Bunny, who had made a successful series of comedy films from 1910 to 1915 for the Vitagraph Company. However, from its inception, Keystone consistently produced the best American comedies of early silent film.

The Keystone Film Company was presided over by Mack Sennett, frequently billed in his lifetime as “the king of comedy.” Irish Canadian-born Sennett worked as a boilermaker before failing as an actor in burlesque and musical comedy. He joined the American Biograph Company in New York City in 1908 as an actor and there learned film craft from the leading American film director, D.W. Griffith. By late 1910 Sennett was scenarist and director of many of Biograph’s comic productions. Two years later, Kessel and Baumann hired Sennett as production chief of their new comedy studio in California, the Keystone Film Company.

Keystone was based in the former Bison Studios at 1712 Alessandro Street (now Glendale Boulevard), in the Edendale district of Los Angeles, near present-day Echo Park. Relocating to the West Coast, Sennett brought his principal players from Biograph to Keystone: Mabel Normand (with whom Sennett had a long and tense intimate relationship), Fred Mace, and Ford Sterling. The original Keystone players were quickly augmented by Roscoe Arbuckle (known as “Fatty“), Chester Conklin (known as “Walrus”), Mack Swain (called “Ambrose”), and others. At the time Chaplin joined Keystone, the company was producing twelve one-reel comedies plus one two-reel comedy a month. Sennett directed the first unit while Henry “Pathé” Lehrman—a former streetcar conductor whose nickname derived from his fraudulent representation of himself to D. W. Griffith as associated with Pathé Frères—directed the second unit.

Sennett possessed an intuitive, almost uncanny understanding of film comedy. He was the creative force behind the Keystone Cops (a madcap mockery of the police force), the Sennett Bathing Beauties, and custard-pie fights in motion pictures. In Sennett’s films, frantic pacing of broad slapstick comedy took precedence over characterization and story. Although crude and obvious, these comedies also were simple and joyous affairs, brimming with ebullience and vitality. Keystone rarely deviated from certain types of comedies: those set in parks (filmed in Los Angeles’ Echo Park or Westlake Park), those staged against the background of public events (such as parades), and those filmed exclusively at the studio or in a combination of studio and location filming. A situation typically led to some sort of rally or chase, explosion, or the principal characters falling into a lake. The world of the Keystone comedies embraced the innocent mischief of the comic strips—hurling bricks, hitting rivals or police officers with mallets, kicking someone in the backside—and was populated with pretty girls, virago wives, and men with grotesque moustaches and beards.

Chaplin arrived at Keystone in early December 1913 and took a room at the Great Northern Hotel in downtown Los Angeles (he would later relocate to the Los Angeles Athletic Club). Sennett was startled to find Chaplin to be young because he had played older men on the stage. The actor was intimidated by the Keystone lot and its players:
 Sennett took me aside and explained their method of working. “We have no scenario—we get an idea then follow the natural sequence of events until it leads up to a chase, which is the essence of our comedy.” This method was edifying, but personally I hated a chase. It dissipates one’s personality; little as I knew about movies, I knew that nothing transcended personality.” (4)

Chaplin’s first film was aptly titled Making a Living, in which Chaplin plays a “sharper;” he is an impoverished gentleman dressed in a top hat, frock coat, and monocle, with a drooping moustache of a typical stage villain and reminiscent of his Karno characters Archibald Binks in The Wow-Wows and the drunk in A Night in a London Club. The action of the film involves the sharper’s efforts to usurp the girlfriend and job of a news photographer (Henry Lehrman). Chaplin was accustomed to months of rehearsing and refining a comedy sketch with Karno. He quickly discovered that at Keystone, subtlety always gave way to speed. Inevitably, friction developed between Chaplin and Lehrman, who also directed Making a Living. Chaplin wanted a character-driven film with a slower pace, while Lehrman insisted on fast knockabout. He was further confused by why scenes were shot out of narrative order. He had no previous film experience and had always rehearsed and performed his theatrical work in the proper sequence. Chaplin was devastated when he saw the final product and discovered what Lehrman had edited, recalling: “Although the picture was completed in three days, I thought we contrived some very funny gags. But when I saw the finished film it broke my heart, for the cutter had butchered it beyond recognition, cutting into the middle of all my funny business.” (5)

Despite Chaplin’s low opinion of the film, Making a Living was well-received when it was released on February 2, 1914. The Moving Picture World, an important trade magazine, wrote “The clever player who takes the role of the nervy and very nifty sharper in this picture is a comedian of the first water, who acts like one of Nature’s own naturals…People out for an evening’s good time will howl.” (6)

The second film Chaplin made at Keystone, Mabel’s Strange Predicament, was the first film in which Chaplin donned the costume and character of the Tramp. (However, Kid Auto Races at Venice, Cal., Chaplin’s third film, was the first Tramp film to be released.) Sennett evidently brought Chaplin into the cast of Mabel’s Strange Predicament as an afterthought, wanting him simply to enter a hotel lobby set and provide some comic business. He told Chaplin, “Put on a comedy makeup. Anything will do.” (7) Chaplin recalled in his autobiography:

I had no idea what makeup to put on. I did not like my get-up as the press reporter in Making a Living. However, on the way to the wardrobe I thought I would dress in baggy pants, big shoes, a cane, and a derby hat. I wanted everything to be a contradiction: the pants baggy, the coat tight, the hat small and the shoes large. I was undecided whether to look old or young, but remembering Sennett had expected me to be a much older man, I added a small moustache, which, I reasoned, would add age without hiding my expression. I had no idea of the character. But the moment I was dressed, the clothes and the make-up made me feel the person he was. I began to know him, and by the time I walked on to the stage he was fully born. ( 8 )

Encouraged by the laughs his Tramp was receiving, Chaplin explained the character to Sennett, “You know this fellow is many-sided, a tramp, a gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure. He would have you believe he is a scientist, a musician, a duke, and a polo-player. However, he is not above picking up cigarette-butts or robbing a baby of its candy. And, of course, if the occasion warrants it, he will kick a lady in the rear—but only in extreme anger!” (9) And thus, nearly spontaneously was born the most celebrated character in the history of motion-picture comedy.

In Mabel’s Strange Predicament, the Tramp is introduced, slightly tipsy, in the lobby of a hotel. In a typical Keystone plot, he becomes involved with a young woman (Mabel Normand) in a bedroom mixup. Later, the Tramp encounters Mabel in the corridor of the hotel dressed in her pajamas as she has managed to lock herself out of her room. The favorable reaction to Chaplin’s character by the seasoned Sennett company was a major victory for Chaplin, and Sennett allowed Chaplin’s first scene to go the entire 75 foot length (approximately one minute) without any editing, not the usual method at Keystone. Moreover, Chaplin’s Tramp character was reworked into the film’s scenario to appear in nearly all of its scenes from beginning to end.

Sennett was pleased, and so was Chaplin. He later explained, “As the clothes had imbued me with the character, I then and there decided I would keep to this costume whatever happened.” (10) Yet Chaplin was not entirely accurate. Although he used the costume for the majority of the Keystone films, he frequently deviated from it as well.

The Tramp character was influenced by tramp comedians of the British music hall as well as real-life tramps Chaplin had encountered in his childhood. A distinctive costume that fostered immediate recognition was traditionally an integral part of the success of a circus clown or music-hall comedian. The particular mixture Chaplin concocted—derby hat, toothbrush moustache, whangee (a type of bamboo) walking stick, baggy trousers, tight cutaway coat, and oversize boots (Chaplin’s actual shoe size was five; he originally wore size fourteen boots as the Tramp for a splay foot-walk)—was, when combined, his own creation.

Motion picture audiences first saw the Tramp on the screen in Chaplin’s third film for Keystone, Kid Auto Races at Venice, Cal. (also directed by Lehrman), which was filmed on the Sunday afternoon of the following week in which Mabel’s Strange Predicament was filmed; but Kid Auto Races at Venice, Cal. was edited and delivered to exhibitors first. Kid Auto Races at Venice, Cal., a Keystone “event” comedy, was a split reel film (five hundred feet or less, and running approximately seven minutes) reportedly filmed in forty-five minutes to take advantage of a children’s car race at the oceanside resort of Venice, California. The plot, such as it is, is quite simple: the Tramp makes a nuisance of himself while a camera crew attempts to film the event. Although quite primitive, the film is historic not only because it represents the first appearance of the Tramp on screen, but also because it manages to record the first audience’s reaction to the character. The audience, of course, is the throng of spectators at the race who begin to notice this peculiar fellow causing trouble with a “camera crew.” At first the audience does not know what to make of the Tramp, then they begin to smile, then titter, and then laugh at his antics. In those brief moments of discovery, recorded for posterity, a comedic revolution was born. Pulitzer Prize-winning critic and author Walter Kerr observed:

He is elbowing his way into immortality, both as a “character” in the film and as a professional comedian to be remembered. And he is doing it by calling attention to the camera as camera. He would do this throughout his career, using the instrument as a means of establishing a direct and openly acknowledged relationship between himself and his audience. In fact, he is, with this film, establishing himself as one among the audience, one among those who are astonished by this new mechanical marvel, one among those who would like to be photographed by it, and—he would make the most of the implication later—one among those who are invariably chased away. He looked at the camera and went through it, joining the rest of us. The seeds of his subsequent hold on the public, the mysterious and almost inexplicable bond between this performer and everyman, were there. (11)

The genius of the Tramp character is that he is so human and familiar—he is one of us. It is remarkable that when directed by Sennett to find something funny to wear, Chaplin invented spontaneously that day in 1914 a symbol of all downtrodden and resilient humanity.

Chaplin took every opportunity he could to learn the business of making films and in his first efforts went beyond what was expected of him. He believed he could be creating the scenarios and directing his films better than Keystone directors Lehrman, George Nichols, and even Sennett. When he was assigned to take direction from Mabel Normand for the two-reel comedy Mabel at the Wheel, and Normand would not take his suggestions for his character’s comedy business, Chaplin confronted her and refused to work on the film for the rest of the day in protest.

According to Chaplin, Sennett at that point was on the brink of discharging him, but a telegram from the front office arrived clamoring for more Chaplin pictures. Sennett mollified Chaplin and Normand, and they completed Mabel at the Wheel amicably. Chaplin then asked to direct his own films, volunteering to deposit $1,500—his entire savings—as a guarantee if it could not be released. Sennett agreed and promised Chaplin a $25 bonus for each picture he made as a director. From his first films as director, Twenty Minutes of Love and Caught in the Rain, to the end of his year at Keystone, Chaplin directed many of the films in which he appeared, the notable exception being Tillie’s Punctured Romance. (12)

Chaplin’s Keystone films greatly differed from the gentle, sophisticated comedy that would be the hallmark of his later work. Yet, Chaplin injected into the Keystone comedies an acute understanding of character and movement that he had refined during his years in the British music halls, and a style of comedy that was polished yet appeared spontaneous at the same time.

Within weeks of the Tramp’s first appearance, the public had embraced him. Orders for the Chaplin Keystone films grew tremendously. It would only take a few months for Chaplin to be recognized as the most popular comedian in motion pictures, although his great fame and global stardom would not flower until after he signed with the Essanay Film Manufacturing Company in early 1915.

Once Chaplin had control over his own films, he began to enjoy his work at Keystone: “It was this charming alfresco spirit that was a delight—a challenge to one’s creativeness. It was so free and easy—no literature, no writers, we just had a notion around which we built gags, then made up the story as we went along” (13) he recalled in his autobiography. Most of the films were made in a week. A park, a hotel, a café, a dentist’s office, a bakery, a racetrack, backstage of a theater, or even a motion picture studio were the simple backdrops against which Chaplin’s inspired comedies unfolded.

Chaplin reprised his famed, fall-down drunk from his Karno days on several occasions at Keystone (Mabel’s Strange Predicament, Tango Tangles, His Favorite Pastime, Mabel’s Married Life, The Rounders). Chaplin’s years with Karno also prepared him well for the considerable athletic prowess required to perform the pratfalls and physical clowning of the Keystone comedian.

In the Keystone films, Chaplin imbues the Tramp with some of his famous traits: the waddling shuffle, the way he rounds a corner (making a sharp turn and skidding, holding one foot straight out and balancing on the other foot while holding his hat), his iconoclastic nose-thumbing (known as “cock a snoot”) at propriety and authority, and his twitching moustache. He can be seen drop-kicking a cigarette over his shoulder or laughing at the camera, behavior that would appear in subsequent films. The Tramp’s reactions to a situation were often more interesting than the situations themselves.

The New Janitor, a one-reel comedy, is the first appearance of pathos in a Chaplin film. Chaplin later recalled:

I can trace the first prompting of a desire to add another dimension to my films besides that of comedy. I was playing in a picture called The New Janitor, in a scene in which the manager of the office fires me. In pleading with him to take pity on me and let me retain my job, I started to pantomime appealingly that I had a large family of little children. Although I was enacting mock sentiment, Dorothy Davenport, an old actress, was on the sidelines watching the scene, and during rehearsal I looked up and to my surprise found her in tears. ‘I know it’s supposed to be funny,’ she said, ‘but you just make me weep.’ She confirmed something I already felt: I had the ability to evoke tears as well as laughter. (14)

Dough and Dynamite, a two-reel comedy directed by Chaplin, is one of the most successful Keystone films. Charlie and Chester Conklin are waiters at a bakery/café who are forced by their ill-tempered employer to man the ovens when the bakers go on strike. The film is filled with wonderful comedy touches, such as Charlie balancing a tray of bread loaves on his head and making doughnuts by flinging dough around his wrists like bracelets. In both characterization and structure, Dough and Dynamite is much finer than other comedy films of the time. According to Chaplin, the film took nine days to film at a cost of $1,800; because he went over his prescribed budget of $1,000, Sennett withheld his $25 directing bonus. Yet, the film grossed more than $135,000 in its first year. (15)

Tillie’s Punctured Romance is Hollywood’s first feature-length slapstick comedy. It was designed to star the famous stage comedienne Marie Dressler and was based on Tillie’s Nightmare, the 1910 Broadway hit that gave new impetus to her already impressive and lengthy career. Despite Chaplin having only a supporting role in the production, Tillie’s Punctured Romance benefited him more than anyone else when the film was released; nearly every motion-picture producer pursued him, wanting to sign him to a contract.

Directed by Mack Sennett and filmed in approximately forty-five days, Tillie’s Punctured Romance was tremendously popular when released, and Chaplin was singled out for his considerable work in making the film a hit. Chaplin, however, did not think much of the film. In his autobiography he dismissed it: “It was pleasant working with Marie, but I did not think the picture had much merit.” (16)

Chaplin’s personal life during his time at Keystone was almost nonexistent; he worked long hours, six days a week. Keystone player Peggy Pearce was apparently his first known love in Los Angeles. He met her, he remembered, in the third week at the studio and described her as his “first heart-throb.” However, Chaplin recalled, “At that time I had no desire to marry anyone. Freedom was too much an adventure. No woman could measure up to that vague image I had in my mind.” (17)

Chaplin’s last Keystone releases as actor/director were the sophisticated two-reeler His Prehistoric Past and the simple one-reel park film Getting Acquainted; both proved to be a strain on his concentration with so many business propositions required his attention. “I suppose that was the most exciting period of my career, for I was on the threshold of something wonderful,” (18) Chaplin later wrote. When Keystone sought to renew Chaplin’s contract, he announced to Sennett that he wanted $1,000 a week. Sennett responded that that was more than he earned himself, to which Chaplin replied, “I know it, but the public doesn’t line up outside the box-office when your name appears sic as they do for mine.” (19). The producer was unwilling to meet his demands. Sennett’s “fun factory” was indeed a factory, and Chaplin’s films only a part of its product.  Sennett was willing to lose one key comedian after another, always hoping to replace them with someone good who would not disturb the economic equilibrium of the production line.

Chaplin refined Keystone slapstick and film comedy in general by slowing down the frantic pace of the films, giving them a rudimentary structure, and establishing a strong character, which he accomplished by drawing on his knowledge of stagecraft and pantomime. At Keystone he developed film technique and comic pacing for motion pictures that he would employ in some form or fashion for the rest of his career.

Although Chaplin’s relationship with the leader of the Keystone “fun factory” was often rocky, Sennett was a man of great enthusiasm if the work was good (a trait he shared with Fred Karno), and he afforded Chaplin the validation he needed. Ultimately, when Sennett gave Chaplin control over his own films, the men worked well together. Chaplin also admired Sennett’s belief in his own taste, a quality he instilled in the actor that helped to stimulate his creative imagination.

Chaplin’s tenure at Keystone is important because it marks the birth of the Tramp. More than just a great character, the Tramp embodies the heroic age of cinema. To many, he was film. As Lewis Jacobs wrote in 1939, “To think of Charlie Chaplin is to think of the movies.” (20)

An extraordinary aspect of Chaplin’s popularity is that he quickly became the most popular comedian in America and soon after throughout the world. It is staggering to consider that not only was there no radio, television, or internet to publicize or advertise the Tramp, but also the Keystone Film Company never credited its players by name on the films themselves or on its posters during Chaplin‘s tenure. To draw a crowd, many exhibitors merely cut out a cardboard figure of the Tramp and placed it outside the cinema with the phrase “I am here to-day.” (21)

Chaplin said, “All I need to make comedy is a park, a policeman and a pretty girl.” (22) He was confident in his own ideas. However, despite the advances in film comedy he made at Keystone, his Tramp character was far from fully formed. It would take several years for Chaplin to develop the emotional range that would mark his mature art. Yet this art began at Keystone. As Mack Sennett remembered, “it was a long time before he abandoned cruelty, venality, treachery, larceny, and lechery as the main characteristics of the tramp. Chaplin shrank his tramp in gradually diminishing sizes and made him pathetic—and loveable.” (23)

After completing over thirty-five films for Keystone of various lengths—split reels, one-reelers, and two-reelers, plus the feature film Tillie’s Punctured Romance—Chaplin emerged triumphant from his first experience in motion pictures. Without knowing his name, audiences embraced him as the most popular character in film comedy. Not a bad beginning for a young vaudevillian who thought he was summoned to a lawyer’s office to receive an old aunt’s inheritance.

Notes

Charles Chaplin, My Autobiography (London, 1964), 145.
Chaplin’s contract with the Keystone Film Company, signed September 25, 1913, survives in the Chaplin Archives.
Chaplin, My Autobiography, 146.
Ibid., 151.
Ibid., 153.
“Comments on the Films: Making a Living,” Moving Picture World 19, no. 6 (February 7, 1914): 678.
Chaplin, My Autobiography, 154.
Ibid., 154.
Ibid., 154.
Ibid., 155.
Walter Kerr, The Silent Clowns (New York, 1975), 22.
The New York Motion Picture Company cut negative record and the Keystone Film Company releases list credit Joseph Maddern with the direction of Twenty Minutes of Love. However, in August 1914 Chaplin sent his elder half brother Sydney a list of twenty films in which he had appeared indicating six of them as “my own.” The earliest of the six was Twenty Minutes of Love, suggesting it as his directorial debut. Chaplin’s 1924 article “Does the Public Know What it Wants?” gives further confirmation that Chaplin considered Twenty Minutes of Love as his directorial debut. (Chaplin, “Does the Public Know What it Wants?” Adelphi 1, no. 8 (Jan. 1924): 702.) However, Chaplin wrote in his autobiography that Caught in the Rain was the first film he directed. Historians may never know with absolute certainty which film was Chaplin’s first as a director. Chaplin’s contribution to Twenty Minutes of Love may have been confined to story or comic business. Maddern may have provided supervision to Chaplin’s apprentice effort. It is suggestive that Chaplin remembered in his autobiography that the popular tune “Too Much Mustard” gave him the image for Twenty Minutes of Love and to which he choreographed situations.
Chaplin, My Autobiography, 164.
Ibid., 165.
Ibid., 167. Surviving documentation suggests production of the film occurred circa August 29-September 11, 1914. For a detailed discussion of this film, see Rob King, The Fun Factory: The Keystone Film Company and the Emergence of Mass Culture (Berkeley, CA, 2009), 91-96. Harry M. Geduld’s Chapliniana Volume I: The Keystone Films (Bloomington, IN, 1987) remains the most comprehensive evaluation of all Chaplin’s work at Keystone.
Ibid., 168.
Ibid., 167.
Ibid., 163.
Ibid., 169.
Lewis Jacobs, The Rise of the American Film (New York, 1939), 226.
Gilbert Seldes, The Seven Lively Arts (New York, 1924), 41.
Chaplin, My Autobiography, 169.
Mack Sennett (as told to Cameron Shipp), King of Comedy (Garden City, NY, 1954), 180.
The Chaplin Keystone Comedies: Notes on the Individual Films In addition to release dates (premiere date in the case of Tillie’s Punctured Romance), the dates the cut camera negatives of individual films were completed and dispatched to Keystone’s parent organization, the New York Motion Picture Company, for the striking of positive prints (for distribution through the Mutual Film Corporation with the exception of Tillie’s Punctured Romance as noted below), are listed to document when the films were made versus when they were released to the public.

Making a Living
Finished and shipped: January 14, 1914
Released: February 2, 1914
Scenario: Reed Heustis. Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Henry Lehrman
Length: One reel

In his first comedy, made from January 5-9, 1914, Chaplin has not adopted his famous character or costume. His character is a dubious dandy who aspires to be a newspaper reporter; he sports a top hat, frock coat, monocle, and drooping moustache. (He later adopted a variation of this costume for Professor Bosco—a flea-circus proprietor—in his abandoned First National comedy The Professor). The character and costume also harkens back to Chaplin’s time with Fred Karno. Indeed, he infused the part with bits of business he had learned from Karno. Nevertheless, director Henry Lehrman (who plays the rival), cut Chaplin’s best comedy bits. “Henry Lehrman confessed years later that he had deliberately done it,” Chaplin wrote in his autobiography, “because, as he put it, he thought I knew too much.”

Kid Auto Races at Venice, Cal.
Finished and shipped: January 17, 1914
Released: February 7, 1914
Scenario: Reed Heustis. Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Henry Lehrman
Length: Split reel

Kid Auto Races at Venice, Cal. is enormously important as the comedy in which audiences first saw Chaplin’s Tramp character. It is also invaluable as it affords an opportunity to examine the reactions of Chaplin’s first audience—the spectators at the car race—to the comic antics of the Tramp. Kid Auto Races at Venice, Cal. was filmed at the second annual “Pushmobile Parade,” a children’s car race, held on Sunday January 11, 1914 in Venice, California. The improvised film (allegedly filmed in a mere forty-five minutes) has as its comic situation the Tramp managing to get in the way of the motion picture cameraman who is attempting to film the event. At first the spectators do not know what to make of the funny little man. Is he really a nuisance? As the action continues, their puzzlement changes to genuine amusement. Unlike other screen comedians, Chaplin immediately positions himself as one with his audience.

A split-reel film (running 500 feet or less), Kid Auto Races at Venice, Cal. was originally released with the educational film Olives and their Oil.

Mabel’s Strange Predicament
Finished and shipped: January 20, 1914
Released: February 9, 1914
Scenario: Reed Heustis. Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Mabel Normand
Length: One reel

This is the first film in which Chaplin wore the Tramp costume (Kid Auto Races at Venice, Cal. was photographed after Chaplin had filmed his first scene in Mabel’s Strange Predicament and—because of its split-reel length—was finished and shipped for distribution before Mabel’s Strange Predicament). This assertion is confirmed not only by Chaplin’s memories, but also by the recollections of Hans Koenekamp (the film’s cinematographer) and Chester Conklin (who plays the husband). Chaplin’s character is described as “a drunken masher.” In his very first scene, Chaplin was savvy enough to create so much comic material that it would be difficult to cut in editing. (Sennett had been reluctant to let most shots run more than ten feet. Chaplin’s opening shot ran approximately 75 feet.) Chaplin asked Sennett, “If it’s funny, does it really matter?” Sennett agreed with Chaplin. Mabel’s Strange Predicament was not only Chaplin’s first film as the Tramp, but also his first effort to create his own type of film comedy.

Mabel’s Strange Predicament is the first of several Keystone comedies in which Chaplin reprises in some form the comic drunk he had perfected for Fred Karno. Mack Sennett was surprised by Chaplin’s youth upon their first meeting as he expected him to be much older. This prompted Chaplin to adopt the disguising moustache. It is worth noting that Chaplin also chose to apply age makeup—accentuating his nasal-labial fold lines—in an effort to appear older. It would not be repeated beyond this one film. The film’s hotel mixup situation—with Mabel Normand locked out of her room dressed only in pajamas—was engagingly provocative for the time and anticipates similar situations Chaplin constructed for Caught in the Rain and A Night Out (1915).

A Thief Catcher
Finished and shipped: January 29, 1914
Released: February 19, 1914
Scenario: Unknown. Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Ford Sterling
Length: One reel

The Thief Catcher is a Ford Sterling comedy that features Chaplin in a brief appearance as a Keystone Cop. Production on this comedy took place from January 15-26, 1914; Chaplin’s scene was filmed after the completion of Kid Auto Races at Venice, Cal. and Mabel’s Strange Predicament, but before Between Showers.

In 1915, with Chaplin’s great fame at the Essanay Film Manufacturing Company, The Thief Catcher was reissued and billed by several cinemas as a Chaplin comedy. For reasons that remain unclear, A Thief Catcher was deemed an erroneous entry in Chaplin’s filmography by H.D. Waley, Technical Director of the British Film Institute, who published his pioneering research in 1938. The American film historian, Theodore Huff, subsequently created his important Chaplin filmography based on Waley’s work. Huff’s Charlie Chaplin, published in 1951, was the standard biographical work on Chaplin for decades. Subsequent Chaplin filmographers have followed Huff in many respects, despite the knowledge that Chaplin himself recalled over fifty years after he had left Keystone that he had once appeared as a Keystone Cop early in his tenure with the company.

Incredibly, an incomplete 16mm print of the film was acquired by film collector Paul E. Gierucki who correctly identified the comedy as a Chaplin Keystone appearance. Gierucki announced his discovery in June 2010. A Thief Catcher fascinates as Chaplin’s policeman anticipates his early masterwork Easy Street (1917).

Chaplin made several unbilled appearances over the course of his long career. His role as the referee in The Knockout is merely a small comic turn in a Roscoe Arbuckle two-reel comedy. After leaving Keystone, Chaplin appeared as the Tramp in the G.M.. Anderson one-reeler His Regeneration (1915) as well as appearances as himself in Rupert Hughes’s Souls for Sale (1923), James Cruze’s Hollywood (1923), and King Vidor’s Show People (1928). Chaplin’s most famous unbilled appearance is as a porter in his own dramatic film A Woman of Paris (1923), featuring Edna Purviance.

Between Showers
Finished and shipped: February 7, 1914 Released: February 28, 1914 Scenario: Unknown. Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Henry Lehrman Length: One reel

Between Showers was inspired by a series of torrential rainstorms that soaked Los Angeles. (The large roadside puddle used in the comedy suggests the severity of these rains). As much a Chaplin comedy as a vehicle for Ford Sterling, the comic situation for this violent, improvised film involves a display of gallantry toward a young woman (Emma Clifton) and the ownership of an umbrella. The policeman (Chester Conklin), from whom the umbrella was originally stolen, reclaims his prized item at the film’s conclusion. This was the last Chaplin film directed by Henry Lehrman, with whom Chaplin had a contentious relationship. Already in evidence are several of the Tramp’s distinctive characteristics: the way he rounds a corner (making a sharp turn and skidding, holding one foot out and balancing on the other foot), his iconoclastic nose-thumbing, the shrug of the shoulders, and covering his mouth with his hand when he laughs.

A Film Johnnie
Finished and shipped: February 11, 1914 Released: March 2, 1914 Scenario: Craig Hutchinson Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: George Nichols Length: One reel

The Tramp visits a nickelodeon and falls in love with the pretty “Keystone Girl” (Virginia Kirtley) he sees on the screen. Physically ejected from the nickelodeon for his unruly behavior, he makes his way to the Keystone studios and causes chaos among the many productions. A local fire causes the Keystone crew to take their cameras on location to film the dramatic event. The Tramp follows along and manages to spoil that film as well. The Tramp’s burning desire to be among the movie crowd is finally extinguished at the film’s conclusion when he is doused with water from the fire brigade’s hose.

Chaplin did not believe the film’s director, George “Pop” Nichols, an improvement over Henry Lehrman. Chaplin remembered Nichols in his autobiography as having “but one gag, which was to take the comedian by the neck and bounce him from one scene to another. I tried to suggest subtler business, but he too would not listen. ‘We have no time, no time!’ he would cry. All he wanted was an imitation of Ford Sterling.” Nevertheless, among the film’s precious moments are Chaplin’s improvisations with a revolver. The Tramp’s use of the gun as a toothpick as well as lighting a cigarette from a pistol shot are the beginnings of his use of comic transposition.

The title of the film is a variation of the term “a stage-door Johnny” (a young man who frequents stage doors seeking the company of actresses or chorus girls). The film shares similarities to The Masquerader, His New Job (1915), and Behind the Screen (1916) in the fascinating glimpses they provide of the atmosphere of early Hollywood film studios. Several Keystone personnel (including Henry Lehrman, Roscoe Arbuckle, and Ford Sterling) appear in A Film Johnnie as themselves.

Tango Tangles
Finished and shipped: February 17, 1914
Released: March 9, 1914
Scenario: Mack Sennett Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Mack Sennett
Length: One reel

Mack Sennett arranged for his most important comedians—Chaplin, Ford Sterling, Roscoe Arbuckle, and Chester Conklin—to improvise a comedy filmed partly on location at the Venice Dance Hall on Abbott Kinney Pier. The film conveys America’s tango dance craze during the early 1910s. Sterling plays the bandleader, Arbuckle a musician, and Chaplin a drunken patron who all compete for the attention of the hat-check girl (Minta Durfee). Tango Tangles—along with the opening scenes of The Masquerader—provides a precious glimpse of the handsome Chaplin as he looked without comedy makeup and clothes as himself off-screen. Further, Chaplin’s comic bout with Sterling (in his last film with Chaplin) suggests some of the choreography and comic business Chaplin performed as the Inebriate in the Karno sketch Mumming Birds in his encounter with “Marconi Ali,” the Terrible Turk and anticipates the many comic duels in future films such as the bouts Chaplin performs with John Rand in The Pawnshop (1916).

His Favorite Pastime
Finished and shipped: February 19, 1914
Released: March 16, 1914
Scenario: Craig Hutchinson Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: George Nichols
Length: One reel

Charlie’s favorite pastime is drinking at the local tavern. The drunken tramp follows an attractive young lady (Peggy Pearce) to her home where her outraged husband (with whom Charlie has had an altercation earlier at the bar) roughs him up before tossing him out on the street.

Chaplin recalled in his autobiography that Peggy Pearce, who plays the object of the Tramp’s affections in this comedy, was his first serious relationship in Hollywood. It is the only film in which they appear together.

Chaplin used African-American stereotypes/humor less than any of the other great star comedians—Roscoe Arbuckle, Harold Lloyd, Buster Keaton, and Harry Langdon—of the entire silent-film era. Chaplin once said of African-Americans, “I never laugh at their humor. They have suffered too much to be funny to me.” Although one may see an occasional Caucasian in “blackface” in the background of an early Chaplin comedy, it was the custom of the time; there were few African-Americans actors working in Hollywood in 1914. His Favorite Pastime contains the most extensive examples of blackface and humor at the expense of African-Americans in Chaplin’s work at Keystone.

Cruel, Cruel Love
Finished and shipped: March 5, 1914
Released: March 26, 1914
Scenario: Craig Hutchinson Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: George Nichols
Length: One reel

Chaplin, dressed in a top hat and frock coat (similar to his costume in Making a Living) and sporting a large moustache, plays a gentleman of means in this unusual comedy. The gentleman is a happy and attentive lover until his fiancée (Minta Durfee) ends their engagement after she believes she has caught him in a compromising situation with her maid. A despondent Charlie swallows what he believes to be poison. His butler, however, laughs at his lovelorn employer’s agonies as he knows the glass contains only water. Charlie envisions his future of hell tortured by pitchfork-wielding devils and surrounded by fire. When a letter arrives from his fiancée asking his forgiveness and reconciliation, panic replaces his agony as he calls his physicians to save him. A parody D.W. Griffith race to the rescue follows as the film cuts to the two doctors as well as his fiancée rushing to his aid. When the gentleman discovers he has not ingested poison, chaos ensues as Charlie goes on a violent tirade against his butler and the doctors before the reconciled couple embrace at the film’s conclusion.

The sequence in which Chaplin swallows a glass of water believing it is poison and later drinks a glass of milk as an antidote to the poison anticipates a similar sequence in Monsieur Verdoux (1947).

The Star Boarder
Finished and shipped: March 19, 1914
Released: April 4, 1914
Scenario: Craig Hutchinson Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: George Nichols
Length: One reel

Charlie, as the favorite of the landlady (Minta Durfee), enjoys more of her attention than her husband (Edgar Kennedy) and small son (Gordon Griffith). The mischievous boy secretly records various compromising situations with his box camera and creates chaos when he displays them in a magic lantern show to the assembled residents of the boarding house.

The brief, eccentric tennis match between Charlie and his landlady is notable as it records Chaplin’s awareness of the game that would become an off-screen passion beginning in the early 1920s and continuing until a broken ankle and the first of a series of small strokes in 1966 forced him to retire from the sport.

Mabel at the Wheel Finished and shipped: March 31, 1914 Released: April 18, 1914 Scenario: Mabel Normand/Mack Sennett Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Mabel Normand/Mack Sennett Length: Two reels

Chaplin—costumed in top hat, frock coat, and sporting a goatee—was impersonating the “Dutch” (immigrant German) screen character of Ford Sterling, the former Keystone comedian whom Chaplin was hired to replace. The comedy, the first two-reeler in which he appeared, incorporates footage taken at the Vanderbilt Cup road race in Santa Monica on February 26, 1914. The production was an unhappy one for Chaplin. He was in disagreement with director Mabel Normand—who lacked the approach to comedy he had learned with Karno—and disliked the idea of imitating Sterling. The happy outcome of the experience was the promise Chaplin received from Sennett to allow him to direct future films.

Twenty Minutes of Love
Finished and shipped: March 28, 1914
Released: April 20, 1914
Scenario: Charles Chaplin Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Joseph Maddern/Charles Chaplin
Length: One reel

Chaplin’s first tentative effort at both story and direction (whether partial or complete direction is subject to speculation) is a simple park comedy. Chaplin recalled in his autobiography that he made the film in a single afternoon. The Tramp’s first scene is memorable: upon seeing a couple kissing on a park bench, Charlie parodies their ardor by embracing a tree. On another park bench, a woman demands a present as proof of her fiancé’s love. The man (Chester Conklin) steals a watch as his gift. Charlie manages to procure the watch from the pickpocket and presents it to the woman himself. Their flirtation and the ownership of the watch creates pandemonium in the park with everyone but Charlie and the girl ending up in Westlake Park lake.

Chaplin recalled in his autobiography how simple little tunes gave him the image for his comedies. For Twenty Minutes of Love “full of cough stuff and nonsense in parks, with policemen and nursemaids, I weaved in and out of situations to the tune of ‘Too Much Mustard,’ a popular two-step sic in 1914.” Chaplin may be referring to story or gags. Chaplin’s claim to both story and direction is supported by the fact that he returned to the same premise the following year with In the Park (1915).

Caught in a Cabaret
Finished and shipped: April 11, 1914
Released: April 27, 1914
Scenario: Mabel Normand/Charles Chaplin Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Mabel Normand
Length: Two reels

Charlie, a café/dancehall waiter, impersonates a foreign dignitary at a garden party in amorous pursuit of a society debutante (Mabel Normand). His true identity is revealed when the society girl and a party of her friends go on a “slumming” expedition at the café where Charlie waits tables. Exposed and spurned, Charlie’s chaotic comeuppance concludes the comedy.

The scenario of this two-reel comedy, and perhaps some of the direction, was shared by Chaplin with Normand. This is one of the few Chaplin comedies that contains pie throwing; a favorite Keystone device. Chaplin would explore in greater depth the comedy’s thematic ideas—particularly class differences and the lowly person aspiring to a higher life—in many of his subsequent films. Situations and themes from this film would be reworked for The Count (1916), The Rink (1916), The Idle Class (1921), and Modern Times (1936) and Chaplin’s use of a canine companion resurfaces in The Champion (1915) and A Dog’s Life (1918).

Caught in the Rain
Finished and shipped: April 18, 1914
Released: May 4, 1914
Scenario: Charles Chaplin Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Charles Chaplin
Length: One reel

Charlie flirts with a married lady (Alice Davenport) in a park, only to be warned off by Ambrose (Mack Swain) her outraged husband. Returning to his hotel after a stop at the local saloon, the drunken Charlie is rebuffed in his pursuit of another attractive young woman. Charlie’s room is opposite that of Ambrose and his wife. The sleepwalking wife enters Charlie’s room. Alarmed rather than delighted, Charlie leads her back to her own room and attempts to return to his own bed without Ambrose’s knowledge. At one point, Charlie seeks refuge on a balcony—only to be “caught in the rain”—and is mistaken by some cops as a burglar.

Caught in the Rain is an important work in Chaplin’s career as it is his first film in which scenario and direction were exclusively his own. Chaplin remembered in his autobiography:

When I started directing my first picture, I was not as confident as I thought I would be; in fact, I had a slight attack of panic. But after Sennett saw the first day’s work I was reassured…Caught in the Rain…was not a world-beater, but it was funny and quite a success.

The film draws upon past successes; Caught in the Rain is not an ambitious effort. The comedy begins in a park (a throwback to Twenty Minutes of Love) quickly moves to a bar (the excuse for Chaplin’s sure-fire drunkard), and finishes with a hotel lobby and room mixup (in the manner of Mabel’s Strange Predicament). Chaplin ends the film with the Keystone Cops for good measure. Chaplin revisited similar situations in A Night Out (1915).

A Busy Day
Finished and shipped: April 18, 1914
Released: May 7, 1914
Scenario: Charles Chaplin Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Mack Sennett
Length: Split reel

Chaplin obstructs a camera crew as he did in Kid Auto Races at Venice, Cal. but this time he is dressed as a shrewish woman whom neither her husband (Mack Swain), the film director (Mack Sennett), nor the local cop can control. A Busy Day was filmed in Wilmington on April 11, 1914 during a dedication ceremony and parade celebrating the Los Angeles Harbor expansion.

A split-reel comedy, A Busy Day was originally released with the educational film The Morning Papers.

The Fatal Mallet
Finished and shipped: May 16, 1914
Released: June 1, 1914
Scenario: Mack Sennett Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Mack Sennett
Length: One reel

The Tramp and another man (Mack Sennett) are rivals for the attention of a young woman (Mabel Normand). The competition between the men results in some violent brick hitting and throwing. The two men eventually join forces against another admirer (Mack Swain) with more bricks and a new weapon: a mallet. The comedy concludes with Sennett and Normand walking off together while his rivals having been pushed into a lake.

One of the crudest of the Chaplin-Keystone comedies, it nevertheless fascinates for the extended comic interplay between Chaplin and Sennett. Chaplin revisited monstrous mallets as comic weapons in Laughing Gas, The Tramp (1915), and Police (1916).

Her Friend the Bandit
Finished and shipped: May 22, 1914
Released: June 4, 1914
Scenario: Charles Chaplin Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Mack Sennett
Length: One reel

This is the only Chaplin Keystone comedy that appears to be no longer extant. Chaplin plays the bandit of the film’s title who captures Count De Beans (Charles Murray) and commanders his evening clothes and invitation card to and pose as the aristocrat at an elegant reception held by Mrs. De Rocks (Mabel Normand) home. Charlie enjoys himself tremendously until the Keystone Cops arrive. Moving Picture World wrote in their review of the film that Chaplin and Charles Murray “play the chief funny characters of this farce which is a bit thin; but it has the rough whirling of happenings usually found in farces of this well-marked type.” Chaplin revisited ideas from this comedy in such later films as The Count (1916), The Rink (1916), and The Idle Class (1921).

The Knockout
Finished and shipped: May 29, 1914
Released: June 11, 1914
Scenario: Unknown Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Mack Sennett
Length: Two reels

Chaplin appears briefly in the second reel of this Roscoe Arbuckle comedy as the overly zealous boxing referee who manages to be on the receiving end of punches in a bout between Arbuckle and Edgar Kennedy. Chaplin clearly contributed much of his comedy material as it borrows from bits in Karno sketches (Mumming Birds as well as another Karno sketch with which Chaplin was familiar, The Yap Yaps). Chaplin enjoyed boxing matches; he attended prizefights in Los Angeles well into the 1930s and would incorporate boxing scenes in his own films The Champion (1915) and City Lights (1931). The interior mansion set used in this film also appears in the later Tillie’s Punctured Romance.

Mabel’s Busy Day
Finished and shipped: May 30, 1914
Released: June 13, 1914
Scenario: Unknown Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Mack Sennett
Length: One reel

Mabel (Mabel Normand) is a hot dog vendor who, like a shabby scoundrel (Chaplin), has to trick her way into entry at the racetrack. Chaplin wears his usual moustache and big boots but sports a light-colored derby and frock coat as a comic villain. Charlie pesters several women while Mabel has trouble peddling her hot dogs. Charlie swipes one of her hot dogs—and later her entire franchise—before the film ends with the two consoling each other at the end of a busy, if not profitable, day at the racetrack. A nominal effort, Mabel’s Busy Day was filmed on location at the Ascot Park Speedway in Los Angeles at a special exhibition race on May 17, 1914. The bystanders in certain scenes, gathered for the race, afford the viewer precious glimpses of how the general public reacted to Chaplin’s antics.

Mabel’s Married Life
Finished and shipped: June 6, 1914
Released: June 20, 1914
Scenario: Charles Chaplin/ Mabel Normand Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Mack Sennett
Length: One reel

Mabel and her husband (Chaplin) visit a park where she is subjected to the unwanted flirtations of a cad (Mack Swain). Charlie’s unsuccessful efforts to stop the cad later inspire Mabel to buy a boxing dummy in the hopes that the dummy will make a man out of her ineffectual spouse. Her drunken husband returns home and mistakes the dummy for the cad they encountered at the park and spars with the “intruder.” Mabel finally manages to convince her inebriated husband that his adversary is only a dummy.

Mabel’s Married Life is one of several Keystone comedies in which Chaplin (wearing a top hat instead of his usual derby) appears as a married man. He plays a husband in the subsequent Keystone films The Rounders, His Trysting Places, and Getting Acquainted and is married during the course of Tillie’s Punctured Romance. Chaplin subsequently portrayed a married man with two small sons in A Day’s Pleasure (1919) and a henpecked husband in Pay Day (1922).

Mabel’s Married Life is one of several Chaplin Keystone comedies that prominently features Echo Park Lake, just five blocks south of the Keystone Studios, in Echo Park. The lake and distinctive Echo Park Bridge are still enjoyed and remain essentially the same in the twenty-first century.

Laughing Gas
Finished and shipped: June 26, 1914
Released: July 9, 1914
Scenario: Charles Chaplin Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Charles Chaplin
Length: One reel

Charlie is a dentist’s assistant who blunders his tasks and abuses patients before he makes additional enemies at a nearby pharmacy. Upon his return to the dental office, he substitutes for the absent “Dr. Pain” for a time before a comic mêlée brings the film to its conclusion.

The film owes some of its inspiration to a Fred Karno sketch Chaplin was familiar with but never performed during his career, The Dentist, although dentistry and tooth extraction have been a source of humor since the commedia dell’arte. Chaplin loathed dentists and dentistry and his family have many memories of the difficulties in getting him to tolerate even infrequent visits to a dentist in his later years. Chaplin makes disparaging comments about dentistry in the role of King Shahdov in his penultimate film, A King in New York (1957).

Chaplin’s aggressive mischief dominates the comedy, although the film’s most charming moments involve his gentle flirtations with a pretty female patient; Charlie uses the dentist’s forceps to hold her nose and appropriate a few kisses from her.

The Property Man
Finished and shipped: July 20, 1914
Released: August 1, 1914 Scenario: Charles Chaplin Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Charles Chaplin
Length: Two reels

Charlie is a property man in a vaudeville theater who must contend with the many demands of the various acts—the comediennes “The Goo-Goo Sisters,” the strongman “Garlico,” and the dramatic sketch artistes “George Ham and Lena Fat.” Rehearsal goes poorly as does the first performance and the film ends with Charlie ending an argument by turning on the fire hose and deluging the entire company and the audience.

Chaplin’s first two-reel comedy as director/scenarist/star once again draws upon the Karno sketch Mumming Birds as a source of inspiration (especially the burlesque of terrible stage acts). The Property Man was Chaplin’s first film set in a vaudeville theater/music hall. He would subsequently return to the theatrical world with the films A Night in the Show (1915), A Dog’s Life (1918), and Limelight (1952).

Despite the many elements of crudeness and cruelty in the Chaplin Keystone comedies, commentators throughout the years have cited The Property Man as being especially cruel. The first critical complaint was expressed by Moving Picture World in their review of the film, “There is some brutality in this picture and we can’t help feeling this is reprehensible. What human being can see an old man kicked in the face and count it fun?” Evidently Charlie’s treatment of the elderly assistant property man as well as Garlico’s treatment of Charlie hit a nerve with some audiences, despite the broad caricature of the clowning—and the resilience of the clowns themselves—that Chaplin employs in this comedy.

The Face on the Bar Room Floor
Finished and shipped: July 20, 1914
Released: August 10, 1914
Scenario: Charles Chaplin Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Charles Chaplin
Length: One reel

Chaplin parodies the ballad form poem “The Face Upon the Floor” by Hugh Antoine d’Arcy of the once prosperous painter who, having lost his beloved Madeleine (Cecile Arnold) to another man, becomes destitute in despair and is reduced to drawing her “face on the bar room floor.” Charlie, as the heartbroken and inebriated artist, tells his tale of woe in a tavern as a series of flashbacks. The rendering of his beloved he produces at the film’s conclusion is such an amateurishly bad line drawing that it prompts the patrons of the bar to boot him out onto the street.

One of the least interesting of the Chaplin Keystones in terms of entertainment value, it is nonetheless a valuable artifact as one of Hollywood’s early parodies of a literary work. The film’s flashback storytelling technique is uncommon for Chaplin; he used it in only two subsequent films: Shoulder Arms (1918) and Limelight (1952).

Recreation
Finished and shipped: July 21, 1914
Released: August 13, 1914
Scenario: Charles Chaplin Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Charles Chaplin
Length: Split reel

A park comedy, filmed in one day, involves the Tramp, his encounters with a pretty young woman, her sailor boyfriend, and cops with everyone landing in a lake.

A split reel comedy, Recreation was originally released with the educational film The Yosemite.

The Masquerader
Finished and shipped: August 12, 1914
Released: August 27, 1914
Scenario: Charles Chaplin Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Charles Chaplin
Length: One reel

Chaplin plays a mischievous version of himself in this splendid comedy. He is first seen in his civilian clothes—and without comedy makeup—entering the Keystone studios. Once he has put on his familiar comedy makeup and Tramp costume, he flirts with two attractive ladies, misses his cue, and twice ruins the scene being filmed. He is eventually replaced and ultimately fired by the director. The crafty Charlie reenters the studio disguised as a charming young woman and is hired at once as a leading lady. Charlie quickly reverts back to his familiar comedy makeup and clothes, reveals his imposture, and is chased about the studio. The film ends with Charlie, having retreated into the studio well, submerged in water and defeated in his masquerade.

The Masquerader is the second of three comedies in which Chaplin appears as a woman; the earlier A Busy Day has Chaplin in crude drag playing a shrewish wife; the later A Woman (1915) further develops what he achieved in this comedy: a brilliant transformation to a soft, feminine, and seductive woman. The Masquerader is also one of several Chaplin comedies, like the earlier A Film Johnnie and the later His New Job (1915) and Behind the Screen (1916), set in a motion picture studio.

His New Profession
Finished and shipped: August 14, 1914
Released: August 31, 1914
Scenario: Charles Chaplin Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Charles Chaplin
Length: One reel

A young man (Charles Parrott who would achieve great fame as a comedian as Charley Chase) hires Charlie to care for his wheelchair bound uncle while he spends time with his girlfriend. Charlie places a “help a cripple” sign on the sleeping man in order to make some quick change to buy a drink. He abandons his charge with the first donation and enters the pier bar. A drunken Charlie returns to his work with even less enthusiasm than he had before; the gouty foot uncle nearly rolls of the pier twice. Charlie flirts with the nephew’s girlfriend and the comedy climaxes with a melee involving Charlie, the nephew, his girlfriend, and a couple of cops and concludes with Charlie stealing off with the nephew’s girl.

Filmed on location in Venice and Ocean Park, California, His New Profession anticipates Charlie’s treatment of gout-ridden Eric Campbell in The Cure (1917) and indicates Chaplin’s early interest in the National Police Gazette—a notorious tabloid with crime, sport, theater, and sin in general as favorite topics and illustrated with fine woodcut drawings—which reappears as favorite reading material in The Kid (1921) and is referenced in Limelight (1952).

The Rounders
Finished and shipped: August 21, 1914
Released: September 7, 1914
Scenario: Charles Chaplin Producer: Mack Sennett. Director: Charles Chaplin/Roscoe Arbuckle
Length: One reel

“Rounder,” is an archaic term meaning a drunk (believed to derive from “rounds” of drinks), although the somewhat obsolete meaning of a dissolute person might as easily describe the two main characters of this superb comedy. Mr. Full (Chaplin) and Mr. Fuller (Roscoe Arbuckle) are a couple of disgraceful drunks making their rounds at home and to a café pursued by their angry spouses. They eventually flee to a park and to a rowboat, sinking to the bottom on Echo Park Lake.

This comedy is the only teaming of Chaplin and Arbuckle; their other six appearances—A Film Johnnie, Tango Tangles, His Favorite Pastime, The Knockout, The Masquerader, and His New Profession—did not afford much comic interplay.

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #11 on: January 11, 2013, 08:01:53 PM »
Chaplin while Filming
Essanay - Chaplin Brand



If the early slapstick of the Keystone comedies represents Chaplin’s cinematic infancy, the films he made for the Essanay Film Manufacturing Company are his adolescence. The Essanays find Chaplin in transition, taking greater time and care with each film, experimenting with new ideas, and adding flesh to the Tramp character that would become his legacy. Chaplin’s Essanay comedies reveal an artist experimenting with his palette and finding his craft.

After the expiration of his one-year contract with the Keystone Film Company, Chaplin was lured to Essanay for the unprecedented salary of $1,250 per week, with a bonus of $10,000 for merely signing with the company. The fourteen films he made for the company were distinctly marked and designated upon release as the “Essanay-Chaplin Brand.” The company’s headquarters were in Chicago, Illinois, and the company had a second studio in Niles, California. The name Essanay was formed from the surname initials, S and A, of its two founders: George K. Spoor, who provided the financing and managed the company, and G.M. Anderson, better known as “Broncho Billy” Anderson, cinema’s first cowboy star.

Essanay began in 1907 and a year later became a member of the powerful Motion Picture Patents Company. Chaplin’s one year with the company was its zenith. The studio foundered after Chaplin left to join the Mutual Film Corporation and finally ceased operations in 1918. Essanay would most likely be largely forgotten were it not for Chaplin’s early association.

While no single Chaplin film for Essanay displays the aggregate transformation to the more complex, subtle filmmaking that characterizes his later work, these comedies contain a collection of wonderful, revelatory moments, foreshadowing the pathos (The Tramp), comedic transposition (A Night Out), fantasy (A Night Out), gag humor (The Champion), and irony (Police), of the mature Chaplin films to come.

The most celebrated of the Essanay comedies, The Tramp is regarded as the first classic Chaplin film. It is noteworthy because of Chaplin’s use of pathos in situations designed to evoke pity or compassion toward the characters, particularly the Tramp. An innovation in comedic filmmaking, The Tramp dares to have a sad ending. Pathos also appears in The Bank, in which Charlie’s heart is broken when the object of his affection throws away the flowers he has given her and tears up the accompanying love note.

Chaplin infuses the Essanay comedies with a number of other innovations. The first is comic transposition. In A Night Out, his second film for Essanay, the Tramp, thoroughly inebriated, gently puts his cane to bed, “pours” himself a glass of water out of a candlestick telephone, and uses toothpaste to polish his boots. Chaplin also employs fantasy for the first time in the Essanays films. In A Night Out, as Ben Turpin pulls the Tramp along the sidewalk, he believes that he is floating among flowers on a river. Chaplin’s own style of gag comedy develops in the Essanays, exemplified in The Champion, in which a David-like Tramp receives the assistance of his loyal bulldog to best his Goliath-like boxing opponent. Irony, a hallmark of Chaplin’s mature work, appears for the first time in the Essanays. Irony is conspicuous in Police, in which an evangelist implores the Tramp (who has just been released from jail) “to go straight” but is later revealed to be a pickpocket himself. Finally, Chaplin first utilizes several other devices in the Essanay comedies that will become signature features of his later films: dance (Shanghaied), the equivocal ending (The Bank), and the classic Chaplin fade-out (The Tramp).

Nowhere is the evidence of Chaplin’s growing cinematic maturity more evident than in the subtle evolution of the Tramp’s treatment of women in the Essanay comedies. At Essanay, Chaplin found Edna Purviance, who would remain his leading lady until A Woman of Paris (1923). Born Olga Edna Purviance in Nevada in 1895, she had trained as a secretary and was recommended to Chaplin by an Essanay employee as a beautiful young woman who frequented a popular San Francisco café. Chaplin was instantly captivated by her beauty and charm. The personal chemistry between Chaplin and Purviance served the Tramp’s changing attitudes toward women well, resulting in no small part from the intimate relationship the two enjoyed off screen. In the Keystone comedies, the Tramp was usually at odds with the women in his life, such as his frequent foil Mabel Normand. Purviance was far more demure and refined, and the Tramp’s interplay with her is gentle and often romantic. Although the female characters of the first Essanays are indistinguishable from those of the Keystones (more often than not, objects of desire, derision, or simply unimportant to the plot), beginning with The Champion, there is a softening in the Tramp’s attitude toward women. The romantic longing at the beginning of A Jitney Elopement demonstrates this transformation.

The evolution of the Tramp was undoubtedly fueled by Chaplin’s efforts to seize greater creative control over his films. Unlike the Keystone comedies, which have simple plot and place a primacy on farce humor, Chaplin’s Essanay comedies display more sophisticated plots and involve more textured characters. The maddening pace of producing nearly one new Keystone comedy each week was reflected in the rapid pace and formulaic story lines in the films. However, the pace at Essanay was somewhat slower, allowing Chaplin to take more time and care in creating his films, and more room to experiment. The tempered pace shows in the style of the films, which contain more subtle pantomime and character development. Although the first seven films Chaplin made for Essanay were released over three months, Chaplin slowed the pace of production to one two-reel film per month after that.

Chaplin also wanted to gentrify his films, being very much aware of criticisms that attacked his earlier work as vulgar and crude. More refined comedy was familiar territory for Chaplin, who learned his art in the British music halls, where bringing an audience along as character and story were developed was paramount to getting the big laugh. The great French silent-film comedian Max Linder, whom Chaplin admired, pioneered this method of acting in film. The Tramp’s drunken mannerisms in A Night Out and A Night in the Show borrow heavily from Chaplin’s classic music-hall acts, and his female impersonation in A Woman reflects the style of masquerade comedy found in many music-hall sketches.

Chaplin’s early efforts to pull Essanay in the direction of character-based comedy brought about a certain degree of tension with his employer. After all, the name of the company was the Essanay Film Manufacturing Company, and a factory culture prevailed there. Standardization was actually a goal of the Motion Picture Patents Company, in which Essanay had been participating for seven years by the time Chaplin joined it. Its position in the film industry had been won by series films such as the Broncho Billys, the Alkali Ikes, the Snakevilles, and the George Ade Fables. No doubt its expectation was that Chaplin would provide another successful, if predictable, run of more-or-less standardized product. Alarmed when he was instructed at Essanay’s Chicago studio to pick up his script from Essanay’s head scenario writer, Louella Parsons (who later became a powerful Hollywood gossip columnist), Chaplin snapped, “I don’t use other people’s scripts, I write my own.” (1)

Chaplin had other disagreements with Essanay from the beginning. The company’s co-founder, George K. Spoor, had never heard of Chaplin and was reluctant at first to give him his promised $10,000 signing bonus. Chaplin also refused to allow Essanay’s practice of projecting the original negative when screening rough film footage, which saved the studio the expense of making a positive copy, insisting that viewing prints had to be made. After Chaplin left Essanay, he despised the company’s unscrupulous tactics of re-editing his films using discarded material in various forms. It was perhaps because of this acrimony (and the resulting lawsuits) that Chaplin remained bitter about this period in his career for the rest of his life.

Chaplin’s dismissive treatment of the comedies he created for Essanay is unfortunate. Apart from their revelation of the fascinating and subtle evolution of Chaplin’s comedy, these films demand a prominent place in the history of film for another, simpler reason—they made Chaplin an icon. Adorned with his instantly recognizable makeup, Chaplin became the most famous man in the world when worked for Essanay in 1915. An article in Motion Picture Magazine stated, “The world has Chaplinitis…Any form of expressing Chaplin is what the public wants…Once in every century or so a man is born who is able to color and influence the world…a little Englishman, quiet, unassuming, but surcharged with dynamite is flinching the world right now.” (2)

Essanay exploited Chaplin’s success to the hilt. The Tramp was the pioneer subject of today’s modern multimedia marketing and merchandising tactics, spawning songs as well as toys, postcards, cartoon strips, and statuettes that bore his likeness. Imitation, the sincerest form of flattery, was often upon the Tramp in this period as well, as a host of imitators appeared—from Billie Ritchie to Harold Lloyd’s early Lonesome Luke character.

Chaplin’s Essanay comedies hold another distinction. For the first time in his career, words that would be applied to Chaplin for the rest of his life—comic artistry and genius—were written in praise of his work. Indeed, there are moments in these early films that deserve such accolades. Perhaps the greatest joy in watching them is the discovery of many conceits, themes, and devices that would serve the great clown so well in the creation of his mature films.

His New Job (Released: February 1, 1915)
Chaplin’s first Essanay comedy—and appropriately titled—was the only film he made at Essanay’s Chicago studio. As with his Keystone films, A Film Johnnie (1914) and The Masquerader (1914), Chaplin chose to set the action in a film studio. Charlie is hired as a prop man and is soon demoted to a carpenter’s assistant at the Lockstone studio (a play on his former employer, Keystone) before given the chance to act, which ends in disaster. The film was Chaplin’s first pairing with cross-eyed comedian Ben Turpin and features an early appearance by Gloria Swanson as a secretary. It is also notable for several tracking shots, despite Chaplin’s reputation for static cinematography, which was seldom used in film comedy of the period.

A Night Out (Released: February 15, 1915)
Chaplin’s second film for Essanay was the first of five films shot in and around the company’s Niles studio in northern California. The plot is a variation of the teaming of Chaplin and Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle in the Keystone film, The Rounders (1914). This time he is paired with Ben Turpin. In the film Chaplin forms an excellent comedy partnership. Chaplin and Turpin are drunks about town, starting at a café and ending in a risqué hotel room mix-up with a pretty girl, similar to the situation in the Keystone comedy Caught in the Rain (1914), yet this time with Edna Purviance, in her first film with Chaplin.

The Champion (Released: March 11, 1915)
Inspired by the Keystone film, The Knockout (1914) and Chaplin’s interest in boxing, this comedy has Charlie finding employment as a sparring partner who fights in the prize ring and wins the championship match, with the help of his pet bulldog. Boxing events were then illegal in most states, and films of boxing matches (including comic takes on them) satisfied a pent-up interest in the subject. The relationship of the Tramp and his dog would be fully developed three years later in A Dog’s Life (1918), and Chaplin’s brilliant choreography in the ring anticipates the boxing match in City Lights (1931). G.M. “Broncho Billy” Anderson plays a spectator in the boxing sequence.

In the Park (Released: March 18, 1915)
The first of two one-reel shorts Chaplin made for Essanay, the film was hastily made at the request of the company as result of the prolonged production of his previous film, The Champion. The film, which involves Charlie interfering in the lives of two star-crossed lovers, has the same improvisational feel of the simple park comedies made at Keystone, and is nearly a remake of his own Keystone film, Twenty Minutes of Love (1914).

A Jitney Elopement (Released: April 1, 1915)
Charlie must rescue his sweetheart, Edna, from an arranged marriage by posing as Count Chloride de Lime, the man to whom Edna is betrothed but whom neither she nor her father ever seen. The film ends with a car chase, featuring a Ford automobile, a target of contemporary humor. Impersonation/ mistaken identity was a device Chaplin enjoyed. Having used it previously in Her Friend the Bandit (1914) and Caught in a Cabaret (1914), he would return to it in such films as The Count (1916), The Idle Class (1921), and The Great Dictator (1940). Among the wonderful bits of comic transposition in the film is a bit of business Chaplin had performed in Fred Karno’s music hall sketch Jimmy the Fearless: Charlie, attempting to slice a bread roll, continues in a spiral cut, turning the roll into a concertina.

The Tramp (Released: April 11, 1915)
Charlie saves a farmer’s daughter from some thieving toughs and subsequently stops their attempt to rob the farm. He falls in love with the girl, but upon the appearance of her sweetheart, the little fellow realizes the true situation. He departs, leaving behind a note to the girl that reads: “I thort your kindness was love but it aint cause I seen him. Goodbye.” This prototypical Chaplin film is important for its superb characterization and construction, successfully integrating pathos with comedy. The film’s sad ending—new to film comedy—incorporates Chaplin’s first use of the classic fade-out, in which the Tramp shuffles away alone into the distance, with his back to the camera.

By the Sea (Released: April 29, 1915)
The second of two one-reel shorts Chaplin made for Essanay, the film was photographed around the Venice, California amusement pier in Los Angeles in just one day. This extended improvisation includes Chaplin’s first use of the flea routine, which he would develop further for his feature film Limelight (1952).

His Regeneration (Released: May 7, 1915)
Chaplin made a guest appearance in this one-reel G.M. “Broncho Billy” Anderson drama, as the Tramp in the film’s dance-hall sequence. That the main title states that Anderson was “slightly assisted by Charles Chaplin” suggests that Chaplin may have had a hand in the construction and direction of the film as well. The plot of the drama bears a close resemblance to the story used in Chaplin’s Police.

Work (Released: June 21, 1915)
The havoc created by incompetent laborers had always been prime slapstick material. For example, in 1906 Chaplin had appeared in Wal Pink’s music-hall sketch, Repairs, playing a plumber’s assistant. In this comedy, Chaplin plays a paperhanger’s assistant hired to paper a mansion (the imposing home was the Bradbury Mansion, one of the biggest homes in Los Angeles). Peace is replaced with anarchy, culminating with a massive explosion. The opening sequence—which shows Charlie pulling a work cart down a busy street and up a hill with his boss sitting in the cart’s driver seat, hitting Charlie with a whip—is striking for its symbolic importance regarding the exploitation and degradation of human laborers.

A Woman (Released: July 12, 1915)
Chaplin had twice previously donned female attire at Keystone, in A Busy Day (1914) and The Masquerader. A Woman was Chaplin’s last and finest female impersonation, a then-popular device among comedians (Julian Eltinge built a career and fortune on it). The first half of the film is a typical park comedy, in which the Tramp causes havoc as a result of his mischief with a flirtatious woman, soda bottles, and a nearby lake. The second half requires Charlie to disguise himself as a lady in order to be near Edna, his newfound sweetheart, after her father has forbidden her to see him.

The Bank (Released: August 9, 1915)
Charlie the janitor loves Edna, the pretty bank secretary, but her sweetheart is another Charles, the cashier. One of the best of the Chaplin Essanay comedies, the film’s plot is a reworking of his Keystone film, The New Janitor(1914), incorporating a dream sequence inspired by Fred Karno’s Jimmy the Fearless. Just as in the Karno sketch—in which Chaplin starred as Jimmy, a downtrodden young man who becomes a hero in his dreams—in The Bank Charlie dreams he saves Edna in an attempted bank robbery, only to wake up and discover it was a dream. The film’s equivocal ending was new to film comedy. Such endings became a signature of the Chaplin films. The memorable close-up of Chaplin in The Bank, when his note and gift of a few flowers to Edna are rejected, anticipates the ending of City Lights.

Shanghaied (Released: October 4, 1915)
Chaplin rented a boat, the Vaquero, to inspire the plot of this comedy gem. Charlie is hired to shanghai a crew, only to be shanghaied himself as well. He has to save himself and his sweetheart, who has stowed away, before the boat is sabotaged for the insurance. The film contains some of Chaplin’s early playful dancing (dance would be an important part of his mature films), seasickness (one of Chaplin’s favorite routines), and a curious homosexual situation with Chaplin and the cabin boy, highly unusual in mainstream cinema for its time.

A Night in the Show (Released: November 20, 1915)
This exceptional comedy was adapted from Fred Karno’s sketch, Mumming Birds. Chaplin plays dual roles in the film: his old stage success of Mr. Pest, and Mr. Rowdy, a dissipated working man, both of whom are attending a vaudeville performance. Mr. Pest manages to cause as much disorder in the orchestra stall as does Mr. Rowdy in the gallery.

Police (Released: March 27, 1916)
Police uses comedy to make pointed—if glancing—social statements which over the years became central to Chaplin’s work. The film is arguably the most mature in the series and anticipates such later films as Modern Times (1936). The Tramp, released from prison, is “once again in the cruel, cruel world” where he meets a former cell-mate and sets about to rob the home occupied by a young woman. Police was altered by Essanay after Chaplin had edited the film, removing an extended doss-house sequence that appeared two years later in Triple Trouble.

Burlesque On Carmen (Released: April 10, 1916)
Chaplin’s burlesque of Cecil B. DeMille’s popular film version of Carmen (1915), starring the great opera diva Geraldine Farrar, as well as a rival version of Carmen (1915) starring Theda Bara, was originally intended as a two-reel comedy. In Chaplin’s version Don José becomes Darn Hosiery (Chaplin), with Edna Purviance as the seductress Carmen. However, after Chaplin left Essanay, the company inserted discarded material and created new scenes, extending the film to four reels when it was given a general release in April 1916. The altered version of the film sent Chaplin to bed for two days. He later put forward an unprecedented claim of the moral rights of artists, suing Essanay on the grounds that the expanded version would damage his reputation with the public. Although Chaplin lost the court battle, he later wrote that Essanay’s dishonest act “rendered a service, for thereafter I had it stipulated in every contract that there should be no mutilating, extending or interfering with my finished work.” (3)

Triple Trouble (Released: August 11, 1918)
This film, which Essanay claimed was a “new” Chaplin comedy, was released nearly three years after the conclusion of Chaplin’s contract with the company. The film was assembled from the discarded portions of Police, the ending of Work, and an abandoned feature-length production entitled Life, along with some new footage directed by Leo White in 1918. The plot has Charlie working in the home of an eccentric inventor from whom some German spies are attempting to obtain a formula. Triple Trouble, however, is best seen as an opportunity to view portions of the abandoned Life, Chaplin’s first attempt to direct himself in a feature-length film, and the doss-house sequence intended for Police.

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #12 on: January 21, 2013, 02:57:14 PM »
Chaplin while Filming
Mutual - Chaplin Specials



By 1916, just two years after appearing in his first motion picture, Charles Chaplin had become the most famous entertainer in the world. Buoyed by his enormously successful comedies for Keystone and Essanay, he was offered the largest salary ever extended to a motion picture star—$670,000 for a single year’s work—to make twelve two-reel comedies for the Mutual Film Corporation. For Mutual, Chaplin produced what many film historians believe to be his best works.

Few artists seminal to a medium leave a detailed history that charts the early evolution of their craft. Although the initial Mutuals have the feel and structure of Chaplin’s earlier, less sophisticated films, the progression of the series to the final four Mutuals is truly inspiring. Viewing the Mutual-Chaplin Specials is comparable to turning a camera on Thomas A. Edison in Menlo Park and capturing unhindered the inventor’s moments of pure inspiration. The thrill in watching nearly all of the Mutuals comes in the Promethean moment when Chaplin’s inventiveness intersects with his genius and produces cinematic comedy sequences unlike any before. The Mutuals are Chaplin’s laboratory, offering an unprecedented glimpse into the inner workings of the mind of a great cinema pioneer.

The Mutual Film Corporation created a subsidiary called The Lone Star Corporation solely to make the Chaplin films. Lone Star paid Chaplin $10,000 a week plus a $150,000 signing bonus for the twelve two-reel comedies. The unprecedented sum would set the standard for the salaries of motion picture stars. Indeed, Mary Pickford, known as “America’s Sweetheart,” did not allow Chaplin’s record-breaking salary to go unchallenged. The company provided Chaplin his own studio, named The Lone Star Studio. The facility was formerly the Climax Studios, located at 1025 Lillian Way in Hollywood, and later would be used by Buster Keaton to make all his independently produced silent two-reel and feature-length films. Chaplin made approximately one film a month but several required more time, and the series ultimately took eighteen months to complete. Although this may appear to be remarkably swift work, it was a leisurely pace compared to the speed he had been required to maintain at Keystone and Essanay.

The press and public were amazed and even skeptical at the amount of Chaplin’s earnings. A Mutual publicist wrote, “Next to the war in Europe Chaplin is the most expensive item in contemporaneous history.” (1) Chaplin was sanguine. “It means that I am left free to be just as funny as I dare,” announced Chaplin, “to do the best work that is in me…There is inspiration in it. I am like an author with a big publisher to give him circulation.” (2) Mutual provided Chaplin the freedom to explore all his comic ideas and to discard anything he believed failed to work on film.

Henry P. Caulfield (succeeded by John Jasper in June 1917) produced the Mutual series. Chaplin chose William C. Foster as the first cameraman with Rollie Totheroh as his second (two negatives were made of each shot). Foster left the Lone Star Studio after four films, leaving Totheroh as head cameraman and George C. Zalibra as the second. Totheroh trained at Essanay, where he first met Chaplin. (He had played several seasons of minor-league baseball prior to working in films). From the Mutual period onward, Totheroh had a lasting professional association with Chaplin. He was cinematographer for every Chaplin film through Modern Times and remained on the Chaplin payroll until 1954. Totheroh’s tolerance of Chaplin’s volatility contributed to their long working relationship.

Totheroh’s cinematography has been criticized as unimaginative and static, but his work provided the director exactly what he wanted. Except for an occasional tracking shot in The Vagabond, The Count, Easy Street, and The Cure, the camera remained stationary to match Chaplin’s style of direction, which was intended to foreground his performance. Chaplin refined and altered the action over several takes, but he almost never changed camera position on a set-up.

“Placement of camera is cinematic inflection,” Chaplin wrote in his autobiography. “There is no set rule that a close-up gives more emphasis than a long shot. A close-up is a question of feeling; in some instances a long shot can effect greater emphasis.” Chaplin cited The Rink, his eight film for Mutual, as an example:

The tramp enters the rink and skates with one foot up, gliding into all sorts of mischief, eventually leaving everyone piled up on their backs in the foreground of the camera while he skates to the rear of the rink, becoming a very small figure in the background, and sits amongst the spectators innocently reviewing the havoc he has just created. Yet the small figure of the tramp in the distance was funnier than he would have been in a close-up. (3)

Indeed, he once remarked, “Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long shot.” (4)

Chaplin ordered Totheroh to film the action at an eye-level, full-figure distance or, for a medium shot, at a waist-high-figure distance, depending on what the scene demanded. Close-ups were seldom filmed. Similarly, Chaplin’s lighting was also basic, without any tricks or attempt at mood. His rudimentary approach to camera placement and lighting was a conscious decision to remain focused on the actors and to leave the performance area accessible for improvisation at all times. Moreover, complicated camera set-ups required time. When the mercurial Chaplin was ready to act, he did not want to be waiting on technicians. From his first film to his last, Chaplin remained a man of the theater, and his primary concern was to convey to the audience the action and the emotion of a scene through the performances of his actors, not through innovative or elaborate photography, lighting, or editing.

Chaplin’s method of filmmaking departed from that of most silent-film directors. First of all, he disliked filming on location and avoided it whenever he could, preferring the controlled conditions of his studio, which allowed him to insert scenes days or weeks later and have them match the master scenes. Moreover, Chaplin took too long to film anything substantial on location. In the silent era, just as today, every shot was given a separate number. Silent filmmakers did not utilize a clapperboard, which is useful for synchronizing action and sound, but a simple slate board to mark the scenes. Chaplin’s unorthodox system was to mark each take in chronological order rather than to assign a number to each scene. Eschewing formal scripts, Chaplin devised ideas for scenes in advance and had them typed up as notes. Often, however, inspiration would strike him on a set and there would be no time to have the notes typed.

By any standard, Chaplin’s directing style, perfected during the filming of the Mutuals and employed throughout the rest of his career, was unique in the cinema. He simply acted out the parts of all the actors as he wished them to be played, down to the slightest gesture of the hand or movement of the eyebrow. Chaplin and his cast would be in full costume and make-up while he rehearsed scenes and refined ideas over and over again on film. This directorial style was considered eccentric even in 1916, and the time he lavished on his films was the envy of every filmmaker. Yet for Chaplin, a laser-like concentration on performance and perfection to the exclusion of all else was his unyielding obsession, even until the end of his career.

Chaplin neither wrote about nor discussed his filmmaking methods at length. He felt, “if people know how it’s done, all the magic goes.” (5) However, despite Chaplin’s later orders to have the outtakes destroyed, an extensive amount of outtakes—primarily from the Mutual period—survives as a detailed record of his creative process. They reveal that Chaplin was willing to film a scene over and over again, even if he had an idea only partially worked out, until he was completely satisfied with the result. (6) Totheroh later recalled:

He didn’t have a script at the time, didn’t have a script girl or anything like that, and he never checked whether the scene was in its right place or that continuity was followed. The script would develop as it went along. A lot of times after we saw the dailies the next morning, if it didn’t warrant what he thought the expectation was, he’d put in some sort of a sequence and work on that instead of going through with what he started out to do. We never had a continuity. He’d have an idea and he’d build up. He had sort of a synopsis laid out in his mind but nothing on paper. He’d talk it over and come in and do a sequence. In a lot of his old pictures, he’d make that separation by using titles about the time: “next day” or “the following day” or “that night”–these would cover the script gaps in between. Charlie would rehearse them. He’d rehearse everybody and even in silents, we had dialogue. It came to a little woman’s part, and he’d go out there and he’d play it. He’d change his voice and he’d be in the character that he wanted the little old woman to play. He’d build their lines up and rehearse them, even before he rehearsed himself in it. He rehearsed so many darn different ways with them that when he came in there, it’d be changed all around with what he put down. You had to be on the alert for him.

I never got away from the camera, looking through that lens. And all those rehearsals, I sat right there, watching every move he made. Then if he came along and something spontaneous hit him, you had to be ready there to take it and get it. As a director, Mr. Chaplin didn’t have anything to say as far as exposures, things like that. Otherwise, I used to say, “Take a look through here.” The idea of that was that if he was directing, he’d have to know the field that I was taking in. Of course, in the early days, the role of the cameraman was much bigger than it is now. It was up to the cameraman to decide what angle to shoot for lighting; or outside, which is the best angle on a building or whatever it is. Then you have to figure what time of the day it would be better to shoot that shot, whether you want back-light or cross-light or whatever on your set. I had to keep the set pretty well lit. You couldn’t under light and get some nice shadows. No, Charlie wanted to look like a clown. He wanted that pretty near white face. And you had to watch out; you couldn’t have shadow over here or back of you because you never knew where he was going to work. You had to watch out and keep your eye out all the time.

On a typical day, we’d shoot from around eight or nine in the morning right straight through till lunch. Of course, this was before unions. And a lot of times he’d want to shoot two hours after dinner. After we’d break for lunch or for dinner, we’d start up again. I could always tell my set-ups because I was smoking Bull Durham and I used so many matches. You could see all these matches all over the floor. (7)

Chaplin created his own comedic sequences, although he was assisted on the Mutuals by a capable scenario staff. Vincent Bryan, a writer of vaudeville sketches and songs who had worked with Chaplin at Essanay, was chief scenario editor. Maverick Terrell was also engaged to assist Chaplin develop his ideas. As Terry Ramsaye wrote, “He surrounds himself with these interesting and gifted persons, not to have them do his work for him, but to supply gravel for his mental gizzard.” (8 ) Albert Austin also contributed comedy ideas, as did Chaplin’s elder half brother Sydney. Evidence from outtakes of films such as The Pawnshop shows that Chaplin also trusted Sydney to assist him in direction. Chaplin, who suffered from insomnia during this period of his life, also began to use a phonographic dictating machine by his bedside to record any comedy idea that occurred to him, a practice that would remain with him for many years.

Although Chaplin directed his actors as if he were playing every part, he wanted an excellent ensemble of performers. He engaged Edna Purviance, his leading lady from Essanay, for effective underplaying to complement his own performances. Eric Campbell, who stood six feet four inches and weighed nearly 300 pounds, was engaged to be the “heavy” (Chaplin, by comparison, stood five feet six and one half inches and weighed 125 pounds during this period). Campbell had worked for Karno, where he had first met Chaplin, and was playing on Broadway in Pom Pom at the Cohan Theatre when Sydney Chaplin saw him during a visit to New York in 1916 to negotiate his brother’s contract with Mutual. Shortly thereafter, Chaplin asked Campbell to sign an agreement with Lone Star. A shy, gentle man in real life, the hulking Campbell was the perfect Goliath for Chaplin’s David. Yet the association between the two men, although immortal in film comedy, was short-lived. The last film in the Mutual series, The Adventurer, was Campbell’s last screen appearance. Campbell was killed instantly in a car accident on December 20, 1917, in Los Angeles at the age of thirty-seven.

Others in the Chaplin company were Karno alumni Albert Austin and John Rand, as well as character actors Leo White and Henry Bergman. Chaplin also hired Charlotte Mineau to portray mature and female “heavy” roles and Lloyd Bacon to play young men (Bacon later became a successful film director). Of course, Chaplin’s ensemble was merely support for his own protagonist in each film.

Chaplin was considered a somewhat solitary figure in Hollywood during the Mutual period. Instead of reveling in the pleasures of early Hollywood, Chaplin remained engrossed in his work and focused on expanding his career. Purviance was his constant companion, and he spent most evenings dining with her at the Los Angeles Athletic Club, where Chaplin was then living. She was a placid, calming force during his most turbulent moods and provided him unconditional love and stability in his otherwise chaotic, non-stop working life and through the strain of his stupendous worldwide celebrity. He gave her his affection, a career, and intellectual stimulation. Chaplin remembered that the two “were serious about each other, and at the back of my mind I had an idea that some day we might marry, but I had reservations about Edna. I was uncertain of her, and for that matter uncertain of myself.” (9)

During this period, Chaplin improved his standard of living for the first time in any significant way since he began in films. He purchased his first car, a Locomobile, and engaged a valet, Tom Harrington, and a chauffeur, Kono Toraichi. His social activities were confined during this period to people within his profession. His only routine pleasures were watching Jack Doyle’s Friday night boxing matches in Vernon, attending an evening of vaudeville at the Orpheum Theatre or the Morosco Theatre’s stock-company productions, or taking in an occasional symphony at Clune’s Philharmonic Auditorium. Chaplin recalled, “But writing, acting and directing fifty-two weeks in the year was strenuous, requiring an exorbitant expenditure of nervous energy. At the completion of a picture I would be left depressed and exhausted, so that I would have to rest in bed for a day” (10)

Chaplin departs from the Tramp costume in several of the Mutuals. He portrays a firefighter in The Fireman, a drunken man-about-town in evening clothes in One A.M., a drunk sporting a boater hat in The Cure, a police officer in Easy Street, and a prisoner in uniform and later disguised in evening clothes in The Adventurer. Chaplin’s willingness to try new ideas and approaches in these films is apparent in their unyielding inventiveness, further evidence of the freedom Mutual had given him to experiment and his own confidence in his range as an actor.

The Mutuals progressively demonstrate greater character development, cinematic technique, and more unified narrative structures. Specific locations or props, around which Chaplin builds his story and the gags that flow from it, become important characters themselves in the films. Whether an escalator in The Floorwalker, a fire station in The Fireman, a film studio in Behind the Screen, a pawnshop in The Pawn Shop, a roller-skating rink in The Rink, the dilapidated T-shaped street in Easy Street, the sets play pivotal roles in their respective films.

Throughout the Mutuals, Chaplin displays his unparalleled ability to combine brilliant, spontaneous improvisation with precise timing. He appears able to do anything—roller skate, slide down a fire the pole, climb the side of a cliff—with superhuman ease, dexterity, and grace. Chaplin infuses the Mutual films with moments of spontaneous pirouettes and androgynous behavior, and even not-so-veiled references to homosexuality.

The Mutual films were so successful that many other comedians tried to copied them, thus expanding the motion picture medium. The popularity of the Chaplin films and the universal appeal of the Tramp character did much to legitimize the new medium in twentieth-century culture. An influential appreciation, written by the distinguished American actress Minnie Maddern Fiske and published in the penultimate issue of Harper’s Weekly at the time of The Floorwalker, hailed Chaplin as “a great comic artist, possessing inspirational powers and a technique as unfaltering as Réjane’s.” Fiske even addresses Chaplin’s apparent vulgarity by comparing him with comic geniuses such as Aristophanes, William Shakespeare, Henry Fielding, and Jonathan Swift. “Vulgarity and distinguished art can exist together,” she wrote. (11) Many other critics concurred, and Chaplin was soon a darling of the intelligentsia. “The egregious merit of Chaplin,” wrote T.S. Eliot, “is that he has escaped in his own way from the realism of the cinema and invented a rhythm. Of course, the unexplored opportunities of the cinema for eluding realism must be very great.” (12)

Chaplin was not only praised as a great artist; the public wanted to know more about Chaplin the man. Charlie Chaplin’s Own Story was written in 1915 by Rose Wilder Lane, then a journalist, who interviewed Chaplin for a series of newspaper articles that she later extended into a book. Much of the book was factually incorrect, reading more like Oliver Twist than an accurate account of Chaplin’s early life. Soon after it was published in 1916, Chaplin succeeded in suppressing the spurious autobiography on the grounds that it was “purely a work of fiction, holding him to public ridicule and contempt.” (13) The Tramp was the most recognizable representation of a human figure in the world. Once the fame of the real man enhanced the visibility of the role he created, Chaplin became the most famous person in the world. Critic Gilbert Seldes went so far as to write that Chaplin was “destined by his genius to be the one universal man of modern times.” (14)

The Floorwalker (Released: May 15, 1916)
The Floorwalker, Chaplin’s first film under his landmark contract with Lone Star-Mutual, has embezzlement as its subject. Chaplin’s inspiration for the film came while he and his brother Sydney were in New York City negotiating his contract with Mutual. While walking up Sixth Avenue at Thirty-third Street, Chaplin saw a man fall down an escalator serving the adjacent elevated train station and at once realized the comic possibilities of a moving staircase. He asked his technical director, Ed Brewer, to design and construct an escalator in a department store set designed by art director George (Scotty) Cleethorpe (who had worked for Chaplin at Essanay). “With a bare notion I would order sets, and during the building of them the art director would come to me for details, and I would bluff and give them particulars about where I wanted doors and archways.” Chaplin wrote in his autobiography, “In this desperate way I started many a comedy.” (15) After seeing The Floorwalker, Mack Sennett commented, “Why the hell didn’t we ever think of a running staircase?” (16)

The Floorwalker has none of the pathos, romance, or irony of the best Chaplin Mutuals. The crudeness and cruelty of his earlier films is still evident in The Floorwalker, although the film contains a stronger plot than most of his previous films, and the moving-staircase chase was novel for 1916. A glimpse of Chaplin’s evolution to a more graceful type of screen comedy is evident in Charlie’s dance when he discovers the valise of stolen money and dives into the bag. (This dance of joy ends with the manager choking him). Audiences were amazed and delighted by Chaplin’s brilliant antics. Yet he was determined to develop a new dimension to film comedy, the beginnings of which evolve in his third Mutual release, The Vagabond.

The Fireman (Released: June 12, 1916)
In Chaplin’s second effort for Mutual, he portrays an inept firefighter at Fire Station 23. Charlie, still asleep, mistakes a drill bell for a fire alarm and single-handedly drives out the horse-drawn fire engine. When he discovers his error, he simply backs up the engine into the fire station, with horses galloping backward (an early instance of camera tricks—cameramen Foster and Totheroh skillfully cranked the cameras in reverse and Chaplin staged the action backward).

The Fireman was filmed partly at an actual fire station, and two condemned houses were burned to provide authenticity. Despite its high production values, the two-reel comedy was no more sophisticated than Chaplin’s earlier films; the firefighters in the film are reminiscent of the antics of the Keystone Cops or a musical comedy chorus.

The Fireman, like The Floorwalker, shares the knockabout comedy of the Essanay films. Chaplin had produced a film carefully tailored to what he felt was public expectation. He then received a letter from an admirer who had seen The Fireman at a large Midwestern cinema and conveyed his disappointment. It was perhaps one of the most important letters he received in his career:

I have noticed in your last picture a lack of spontaneity. Although the picture was unfailingly as a laugh-getter, the laughter was not so round as at some of your earlier work. I am afraid you are becoming a slave to your public, whereas in most of your pictures the audiences were a slave to you. The public, Charlie, likes to be slaves. (17)

It was a great lesson to Chaplin. For the rest of his career, he trusted and adhered to his own ideas and likes rather than attempting to speculate on the perceived preferences of the public.

The Vagabond (Released: July 10, 1916)
The Vagabond, Chaplin’s third Mutual film, was an important step in Chaplin’s career, in which he interweaves pathos as an integral part of the comedy. Indeed, The Vagabond is the prototype of The Kid (1921) and The Circus (1928). Chaplin employs the same romantic triangle seen in The Tramp (1915) that he would revisit again in Sunnyside (1919) and The Circus. He imposed an unlikely happy ending on The Vagabond, in which the gypsy drudge demands that the car she is being taken away be turned around to bring Charlie along with her.

Legend has it that Chaplin originally intended the film to end with a scene in which Charlie attempts a watery suicide, is saved by an ugly farm woman, and plunges in again after one look at his rescuer (18). However, the few surviving outtakes from the film do not substantiate this claim. (19)

The Vagabond relies less on outright comedy than Chaplin’s earlier work. His direction of the film shows sensitivity and restraint in his treatment of the melodramatic material, such as the dramatic device of the lost child finally identified by her unique birthmark. Chaplin’s performance reveals great warmth and depth.

Strains of The Vagabond appear in many of Chaplin’s later films. The film’s ambiguous ending regarding Charlie’s future with the girl and his care of her foreshadows Charlie’s future relationship with Jackie Coogan in The Kid. The cruel gypsy chief is the precursor of the cruel step-father of The Circus. The scenes in the film of Charlie as the violinist (particularly Charlie, in a musical frenzy, falling into a tub of water) anticipate Limelight (1952). The Vagabond clearly shows Chaplin’s development of the film elements that Chaplin would use throughout his career, particularly the blending of comedy and drama.

One A. M. (Released: August 7, 1916)
One A.M., Chaplin’s fourth Mutual, is an impressive piece of virtuosity, a solo performance except for a brief appearance by Albert Austin as a taxi driver. The film is a tour de force of Chaplin’s superb pantomime and comic creativity performed in a restricted space, a brilliant experiment that he never repeated. Chaplin reportedly remarked, “One more film like that and it will be goodbye Charlie.” (20) The film’s simple situation revolves around a drunken gentlemen as he arrives home early one morning and tries to get upstairs into bed. The bed sequence anticipates Buster Keaton’s use of such props—the yacht of The Boat (1921), the steamship in The Navigator (1924), and the train engine in The General (1926)—and Chaplin’s own treatise of humanity trapped in a world of machines, Modern Times (1936). Art director Scotty Cleethorpe designed the splendidly surreal set, and technical director Ed Brewer created the folding bed that Chaplin turned into a memorable foil.

The film is not only a remarkable experiment, but also an invaluable record of Chaplin’s famous drunken character, earlier seen in the Fred Karno sketch Mumming Birds. He described what he thought made this type of drunk humorous in an article entitled “What People Laugh At,” published in American Magazine in 1918:

Even funnier than the man who has been made ridiculous…is the man who, having had something funny happen to him, refuses to admit that anything out of the way has happened, and attempts to maintain his dignity. Perhaps the best example is the intoxicated man who, though his tongue and walk will give him away, attempts in a dignified manner to convince you that he is quite sober.

He is much funnier than the man who, wildly hilarious, is frankly drunk and doesn’t care a whoop who knows it. Intoxicated characters on the stage are almost always “slightly tipsy” with an attempt at dignity because theatrical managers have learned that this attempt at dignity is funny. (21)

The Count (Released: September 4, 1916)
The fifth film in the Mutual series, The Count, further develops the situations of Caught in a Cabaret (1914) and A Jitney Elopement (1915) and anticipates the future Chaplin films The Rink, The Idle Class (1921), and City Lights (1931), films in which Charlie impersonates a man of means in order to underscore the contrast between rich and poor—one of his favorite themes. The film was Chaplin’s largest production up to that time, with three substantial sets (the tailor’s shop, the kitchen, and Miss Moneybags’ home). For the film’s dance sequence, Chaplin hired a small orchestra. The slippery dance floor facilitates some memorable eccentric dancing from Charlie, including splits and elevations done by hooking his cane on the chandelier above him.

The Pawnshop (Released: October 2, 1916)
In the sixth Mutual film, Charlie is a pawnbroker’s assistant in a pawnshop that evokes the London of Chaplin’s childhood. The film is rich in comic transposition, a key element to Chaplin’s genius. The apex of such work in the Mutuals is the celebrated scene in The Pawnshop in which Charlie examines an alarm clock brought in by a customer (Albert Austin). Playwright Harvey O’Higgins cited the sequence as an ideal illustration of “Charlie Chaplin’s Art” in the February 3, 1917 issue of The New Republic:

He is a clerk in a pawnshop, and a man brings in an alarm clock to pledge it. Charlie has to decide how much it is worth. He sees it first as a patient to be examined diagnostically. He taps it, percusses it, puts his ear to its chest, listens to its heartbeat with a stethoscope, and while he listens, fixes a thoughtful medical eye on space, looking inscrutably wise and professionally self-confident. He begins to operate on it–with a can-opener. And immediately the round tin clock becomes a round tin can whose contents are under suspicion. He cuts around the circular top of the can, bends back the flap of tin with a kitchen thumb then, gingerly approaching his nose to it, sniffs with the melancholy expression of the packing houses. The imagination is accurate. The acting is restrained and naturalistic. The result is a scream. And do not believe that such acting is a matter of crude and simple means. It is as subtle in its naturalness as the shades of intonation in a really tragic speech. (22)

The sequence with the alarm clock in some ways prefigures Chaplin’s most celebrated use of comic transposition, the famous scene in The Gold Rush (1925) in which Charlie treats his old boiled boot in every detail as if it were a delicious Thanksgiving feast.

The pawnbroker was played by Henry Bergman in his first film for Chaplin. Bergman became an indispensable member of Chaplin’s team, appearing in every subsequent film up to Modern Times and remaining on the Chaplin Studios payroll until his death in 1946.

Behind the Screen (Released: November 13, 1916)
A refinement of his earlier comedies set in a film studio (A Film Johnnie and The Masquerader for Keystone in 1914 and His New Job for Essanay in 1915), Behind the Screen, Chaplin’s seventh film for Mutual, lampoons the unmotivated slapstick of the kind Chaplin disliked when he worked for Mack Sennett. Chaplin made the film as a sort of parody of the knockabout, pie-throwing comedy of the Keystone films.

An aspiring actress (Edna Purviance), desperate for work, disguises herself as a boy and is hired at the studio as a stagehand when the regular crew strikes (the strikers and their plans to blow up the studio are reminiscent of Dough and Dynamite 1914). Charlie, discovering that the new stagehand is in fact a girl, gently kisses her just as Goliath (Eric Campbell) enters. “Oh you naughty boys!” Goliath remarks in an intertitle, as he teasingly pinches their cheeks and dances about in an effeminate manner before offering his backside to Charlie, which Charlie promptly kicks. This curious scene representing a homosexual situation is highly unusual in American commercial cinema for its time.

The Rink (Released: December 14, 1916)
Chaplin’s eighth film for Mutual, The Rink, is one of his most popular comedies. Charlie is an inept waiter who prepares the bill of Mr. Stout (Eric Campbell) by examining the soup, spaghetti, melon stains and other remnants on the sloppy eater’s shirt front, tie, and ear. Charlie employs an unorthodox approach to his work. He shakes an unusual cocktail; his whole body does a shimmy while the cocktail shaker remains immobile in his hands. He carelessly places a broiler cover over a live cat that he serves to a startled diner. Yet, inept as Charlie is as a waiter, he is incredibly graceful on roller skates, which is how he spends his lunch break.

Chaplin developed his skating skills while employed by Fred Karno in the British music halls, and the film was superficially inspired by the Karno sketch Skating (which had been partly written by Sydney Chaplin). Chaplin did all of the skating himself. He was occasionally aided by wires for shots which required Charlie to appear as if he were about to fall backward or forward while on skates, causing pandemonium in the rink. His agility and grace make The Rink one of his most memorable early comedies.

Easy Street (Released: February 5, 1917)
Chaplin’s last four Mutual-Chaplin Specials are among his finest work. While each of the preceding Mutual comedies took approximately one month each to make, Chaplin took more time with the last four (ten months in total), which extended his twelve-month period to approximately eighteen months. For Easy Street, his ninth film for Mutual and the most famous of the twelve, Chaplin ordered the first of the T-shaped street sets to be built that he would consistently utilize to provide a perfect backdrop to his comedy. The look and feel of Easy Street evoke the South London of his childhood (the name “Easy Street” suggests “East Street,” the street of Chaplin’s birthplace). Poverty, starvation, drug addiction, and urban violence—subjects that foreshadow the social concerns in his later films—are interwoven in “an exquisite short comedy” wrote critic Walter Kerr, “humor encapsulated in the regular rhythms of light verse.” (23)

In 1930 Chaplin told Russian film director Sergei Eisenstein that the scene in Easy Street in which Charlie scatters food from a box to a group of poor children as if they were chickens was indicative of his dislike for children. “You see, I did that because I despise them. I don’t like children,” he said. Eisenstein, who was not surprised by the remark, noted that those who normally do not like children are other children. (24) Chaplin was, in fact, intimidated and felt rather inferior to children. He wrote of children: “Most of them have assurance, have not yet been cursed with self-consciousness. And one has to be very much on his best behavior with children because they detect our insincerity.” (25)

All of the action in Chaplin’s films was carefully choreographed. As a result, there were no injuries to the cast while making the films, with the exception of a minor accident involving Chaplin on December 16, 1916, during the filming of Easy Street. He recalled, “We had one accident in that whole series. It happened in Easy Street. While I was pulling a street-lamp over the big bully to gas him, the head of the lamp collapsed and its sharp metal edge fell across the bridge of my nose, necessitating two surgical stitches.” (26) The injury also held up production, as the stitches prevented him from wearing makeup for several days. The injury, the size of the production, and a particularly rainy season in Hollywood contributed to a delay in the release of the film. Upon its release, Easy Street was hailed as a watershed moment in Chaplin’s career.

The Cure (Released: April 16, 1917)
The Cure, the tenth film in the series, is perhaps the funniest of the Mutuals. It was partly inspired in its setting by the Fred Karno sketch, The Hydro, which was set in a hydrotherapy clinic. Further inspiration for the film was drawn from the Los Angeles Athletic Club, where Chaplin was living at the time and where the idea of a health spa first occurred to him. The wrestling bouts in the gymnasium of the Athletic Club caught his imagination and inspired the scene in the film in which Charlie wrestles the masseur.

Completion of the film was again delayed because of Chaplin’s quest for perfection. Outtakes survive showing that the film began quite differently, with Charlie intending to play a bellman and later a spa attendant in a health resort before finalizing on the inebriate character. Production was further delayed when Chaplin caught a chill after filming some of the water scenes.

Chaplin’s use of dance in The Cure is also notable. There is a delightful scene in the changing room where Charlie assumes several poses in his swimsuit as the curtains open and close before he dances along to the pool. The scene was inspired by the tableaux vivants, a popular feature of many British music-hall programs.

The Immigrant (Released: June 17, 1917)
The Immigrant, which contains elements of satire, irony, and romance as well as cinematic poetry, endures in the twenty-first century as a comic masterpiece. The film, Chaplin’s eleventh in the Mutual series, is the best-constructed of his two-reelers and was Chaplin’s favorite among all his two-reel comedies

The original idea for the film was a variation of Trilby set in the Latin Quarter of Paris, which evolved into a comedy about two immigrants who meet on a boat, part ways, and are reunited by a chance encounter, a menacing waiter, and an artist’s enthusiasm. Chaplin had shot as much footage on The Immigrant as most directors would to photograph a feature-length production. In his efforts to continuously refine the film, he exposed more than 90,000 feet of negative (the finished film runs approximately 2,000 feet), and he went four days and nights without rest while editing the film to final length.

In devising The Immigrant, Chaplin drew on his own experiences immigrating to the United States and attempted to find the humor in otherwise traumatic aspects of coming to a new land. Chaplin conjures many funny gags out of the hardships of an Atlantic passage on an immigrant vessel. These gags were enhanced by the rocking effect of the boat itself, which was partly achieved by a heavy pendulum that was fitted to the camera head. Totheroh put the camera on a special tripod that allowed it to rock from side to side. Once the ship moved, the camera moved as well. The rocking interior of the dining hall was a studio set built on rockers. With the rocking effect perfected, Chaplin was free to fashion every seasick gag imaginable. He also found material for the film in his experience as an outsider careful with his money upon his arrival to America. During that time, Chaplin was intimidated by waiters and realized that others shared similar feelings. This fear was the spark for the café sequence.

Chaplin was justifiably pleased with the film’s opening gag, which contained the element of surprise. He wrote in 1918:

Figuring out what the audience expects, and then doing something different, is great fun to me. In none of my pictures, The Immigrant, the opening scene showed me leaning far over the side of a ship. Only my back could be seen and from the conclusive shudders of my shoulders it looked as though I was seasick. If I had been, it would have been a terrible mistake to show it in the picture. What I was doing was deliberately misleading the audience. Because, when I straightened up, I pulled a fish on the end of a line into view, and the audience saw that, instead of being seasick, I had been leaning over the side to catch the fish. It came as a total surprise and got a roar of laughter. (27)

The gag foreshadows a similar gag in the most celebrated moment in The Idle Class, in which Chaplin, with his back to the camera, appears to be sobbing, yet when he turns around, he is actually mixing himself a drink with a cocktail shaker.

Undertones of social criticism are suggested in The Immigrant, the first of many Chaplin films to contain such themes, which were seldom found in comedy films of this period. For instance, when the immigrants first see the Statue of Liberty the immigration officials rope all the foreigners together like cattle, causing Charlie to cast a quizzical second look at the land of the free. When an immigration officer turns away from Charlie, Charlie kicks him in the backside. Carlyle Robinson, Chaplin’s publicity director, joined the Lone Star Studio on the day the dailies of this sequence were being screened. Chaplin asked his new employee what he thought of them.

“Very funny and very realistic,” Robinson replied.

          “Do you find anything shocking in it?”

          “Not that I can recall.”


Apparently, the social criticism issue had been raised by one of Chaplin’s associates, and Robinson’s answer satisfied Chaplin. As Robinson affirmed, “The scene was kept in the final version of the film and there was never the least complaint.” (28) Indeed, the critics were not put off by traces of social commentary in the film. Julian Johnson wrote in Photoplay, “In its roughness and apparent simplicity it is as much a jewel as a story by O. Henry, and no full-time farce seen on our stages in years has been more adroitly, more perfectly worked out.” (29)

The Immigrant also is significant in Chaplin’s evolution as a filmmaker because it is the first film in which his character embarks upon a full-fledged romantic relationship. To help evoke a romantic mood on the set, Chaplin—like many filmmakers of the silent era—employed “mood” musicians to play music off-camera while scenes were being filmed. Chaplin wrote in his autobiography, “Even in those early comedies I strove for mood; usually music created it. An old song called ‘Mrs. Grundy’ created the mood for The Immigrant. The tune had a wistful tenderness that suggested two lonely derelicts getting married on a doleful, rainy day.” (30)

Chaplin retained a special place in his memory for the film. He wrote in My Life in Pictures, “The Immigrant touched me more than any other film I made. I thought the end had quite a poetic feeling.” (31)

The Adventurer (Released: October 22, 1917)
Chaplin and his brother Sydney went to San Francisco for a vacation after completing The Immigrant. Chaplin was growing tired from the hectic pace of the series; four months passed before the last film, The Adventurer, was released—the longest interval between films for Chaplin in his entire career up to that time.

The most popular of the Mutuals, The Adventurer begins and ends with a chase. It is the fastest-paced film of the series, and although it has more slapstick than Easy Street and The Immigrant, it is redeemed by its construction, characterization, and Chaplin’s balletic grace.

A famous moment in the film has Charlie spilling ice cream down the front of his over-sized trousers. Chaplin wrote a detailed analysis of the scene in his article, “What People Laugh At”:

All my pictures are built around the idea of getting me into trouble and so giving me the chance to be desperately serious in my attempt to appear as a normal little gentleman. That is why, no matter how desperate the predicament is, I am always very much in earnest about clutching my cane, straightening my derby hat and fixing my tie, even though I have just landed on my head.

I am so sure of this point that I not only try to get myself into embarrassing situations, but I also incriminate the other characters in the picture. When I do this, I always aim for economy of means. By this I mean that when one incident can get two big, separate laughs, it is much better than two individual incidents. In The Adventurer I accomplish this by first placing myself on a balcony, eating ice cream with a girl. On the floor directly underneath the balcony, I put a stout, dignified, well-dressed woman at a table. Then, while eating the ice cream, I let a piece drop off my spoon, slip through my baggy trousers, and drop from the balcony onto this woman’s neck.

The first laugh came at my embarrassment over my own predicament. The second, and the much greater one, came when the ice cream landed on the woman’s neck and she shrieked and started to dance around. Only one incident had been used, but it had got two people into trouble and had also got two big laughs.

Simple as this trick seems, there were two real points of human nature involved in it. One was the delight the average person takes in seeing wealth and luxury in trouble. The other was the tendency of the human being to experience within himself the emotions he sees on the stage or screen.

One of the things most quickly learned in theatrical work is that people as a whole get satisfaction from seeing the rich get the worst of things. The reason for this, of course, lies in the fact that nine tenths of the people in the world are poor, and secretly resent the wealth of the other tenth.

If I had dropped the ice cream, for example, on a scrubwoman’s neck, instead of getting laughs sympathy would have been aroused for the woman. Also, because a scrubwoman has no dignity to lose, the point would not have been funny. Dropping ice cream down a rich woman’s neck, however, is, in the minds of the audience, just giving the rich what they deserve.

By saying that human beings experience the same emotions as the people in the incidents they witness, I mean that—taking ice cream as an example—when the rich woman shivered the audience shivered with her. A thing that puts a person in an embarrassing predicament must always be perfectly familiar to an audience, or else the people will miss the point entirely. Knowing that the ice cream is cold, the audience shivers. If something else was used that the audience did not recognize at once, it would not be able to appreciate the point as well. On this same fact was based the throwing of custard pies in the early pictures. Everyone knew that custard pie is squashy and so was able to appreciate how the actor felt when one landed on him. (32)

Other highlights from the film include Charlie donning a lampshade and freezing in position as the guards run past him and a chase in which he dodges a prison guard and the rival by using sliding double doors which become, in turn, a head-stock, a moveable wall, and an escape route.

It is ironic that in his last film of the demanding Mutual series Charlie escapes from prison. In contrast with Essanay, Chaplin’s relationship with the Mutual Film Corporation ended amicably. Indeed, Mutual offered him a million dollars for eight more films, but Chaplin sought even greater independence. Chaplin later wrote, “Fulfilling the Mutual contract, I suppose, was the happiest period of my career. I was light and unencumbered, twenty-seven years old, with fabulous prospects and a friendly, glamorous world before me.” (33)

The Mutual-Chaplin Specials were frequently revived theatrically, non-theatrically, and in prints sold to libraries and for home use. Chaplin’s son Sydney remembered watching some of the Mutual comedies with Jerry Epstein at the Silent Movie Theatre in Hollywood in the late 1940s. They enjoyed the films, but not nearly as much as the man several rows behind them, who was manically and uncontrollably laughing. When the show ended and the two turned to investigate, they discovered the laughter was from Chaplin himself. “It was my father who was laughing the loudest! Tears were rolling down his cheeks from laughing so hard and he had to wipe his eyes with his handkerchief. He was sitting with Oona. He had brought her to the Silent Movie because she hadn’t seen any of them before.” (34)

Perhaps Chaplin had such a fondness for the Mutuals because, in many ways, the films serve as a foundation for all that would follow in Chaplin’s remarkable career. Chaplin’s prior films, although wonderful in their time, failed to ignite the cinematic alchemy that would come to be called “Chaplinesque”—the blending of comedy, pathos, and social commentary into a single narrative whole, as seen in The Vagabond, Easy Street, and The Immigrant and in all of Chaplin’s best films thereafter. No other filmmaker had consistently injected this combination of elements with such an exquisite level of skill into a comedy film. The Mutual films are extraordinary because they represent the only period in Chaplin’s career during which he allowed himself to revel in rather than to revile the creative process, to tinker in his comedic laboratory, resulting in some of the finest work of his career. A testament to the enduring quality of the Mutuals is not only that others appropriated sequences from the films (including Chaplin’s contemporaries Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton, and later comedians such as the Marx Brothers), but that Chaplin himself often borrowed liberally from the Mutuals in his later, more sophisticated films. Perhaps he had great fondness for the Mutuals simply for the same reason that generations of audiences have as well—because of the sheer joy, comic inventiveness, and hilarity of this extraordinary series of films.

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #13 on: January 21, 2013, 04:14:35 PM »
Chaplin while Filming
Chaplin Revue



From the moment he entered movies, Charles Chaplin knew that he needed total creative autonomy in order to make the kind of comedy of which he alone was capable. This autonomy he finally achieved in 1918, when he built his own studio.

Hollywood was still rural, and the studio rose up among the orange groves in the grounds of an old mansion. Disguised on the outside as an old English village street, the interior of studio was, for those times, state of the art.

Chaplin celebrated his move with an amusing little documentary film, How to Make Movies, which showed the facilities and personnel of the studio, and his own daily routine. In fact the film was never completed or released; and this precious view of early Hollywood was not seen until 1959 when Chaplin included some shots in his compilation The Chaplin Revue.

“A Dog’s Life”
The films that Chaplin made in his own studio were a marked advance on any comedies previously made in Hollywood. They were generally longer – as much as 45 minutes, whereas few comedies before that time went beyond half an hour – and much more sophisticated in staging and structure. The first was A Dog’s Life, for which Chaplin found an excellent co-star, in the person of a charming mongrel dog, Scraps, whose battle for survival with the other dogs of the quarter is satirically compared with Charlie the Tramp’s own struggle for a place in society.


Along with his regular leading lady Edna Purviance – playing a much-abused singer and hostess working in the seedy Green Lantern bar – Chaplin is joined for the first time by his brother Sydney, who had shared his early struggles and helped him make his way on the variety theatres on the variety theatre circuit. An excellent comedian in his own right, Sydney plays the proprietor of the coffee stall which is victim to the pilfering of Charlie and Scraps. An odd feature of A Dog’s Life is that Chaplin has abandoned his usual cane – presumably because he needed his hand free to hold the dog’s leash.

The First World War was already raging when Chaplin opened his studio; and A Dog’s Life was finished in a hurry so that Chaplin could do his war effort by embarking on a tour to sell Liberty Bonds, persuading the public to buy investments that supported the war effort.

“Shoulder Arms”
His friends were nervous of his next project, a comedy about the war, which was to become Shoulder Arms. Even Chaplin himself had momentary doubts about making comedy out of such a catastrophic event in human history. Yet with this film he proved definitively that there is only the thinnest division between comedy and tragedy. With great brilliance, Chaplin depicts the horrors of life in the trenches – mud, blood, hunger, vermin, longing for home, the waterlogged trenches and the ever-imminent danger of a lethal bullet or grenade – through the distorting mirror of comedy.


Few directors exerted such discipline upon themselves. His original plan was to show the little hero’s life before and after the war. In the end, though, he simplified the structure, discarding reels of wonderful comic material he had shot.

Despite all the initial fears, Shoulder Arms was and remains one of his greatest successes.

And no-one appreciated his comedy of the privations of life at the front more than the very men who had themselves endured it.

“The Pilgrim”
In 1959 Chaplin reissued A Dog’s Life and Shoulder Arms, slightly re-edited, in his omnibus film, The Chaplin Revue. He complemented them with a third film The Pilgrim. Made in 1922, this was Chaplin’s last film of less than normal feature length – it ran for an hour – and the last in which his leading lady was the charming Edna Purviance. The film is a gentle satire on small-town life and religion, with Chaplin as an escaped convict mistaken for the new pastor of a rural community. When the film first came out it suffered a good deal from censorship in some more puritanical states and cities of the United States.


Today we have no such problems with this charming comedy and its sharp but good-hearted fun at the expense of the small hypocrisies of life

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Re: ~ Biography Of Charlie Chaplin ~
« Reply #14 on: January 21, 2013, 04:18:16 PM »
Chaplin while Filming
The First National Shorts



Sunnyside
In his autobiography, Chaplin recalled that making Sunnyside was “like pulling teeth”. From time to time, like any artist, Chaplin experienced creative blocks; but this was one of the worst in his career. No doubt one cause was his private life. Late in November 1918 he had married in haste a 17-year-old actress, Mildred Harris - and immediately regretted it as he found that poor Mildred was “no intellectual heavyweight” and woefully unequal to the job of wife to a genius.

Barely a week after the marriage, he was back at the studio with a plan to put Charlie into a rural setting, as the put-upon man-of-all-work at a seedy country hotel. He took the unit on location to one of the ranches that were still close by in that rural California, and hired horses, cows and cowboys - but the ideas for comedy did not come. After more than three months of idleness and a temporary abandonment of the project, Chaplin suddenly forced himself into a three-week spurt of energetic activity, after which he was able to complete Sunnyside.

It is a more interesting film than Chaplin or his critics gave him credit for. The spectacle of Charlie in a rural setting is novel, and provides some unexpected gags. Some scenes have a rather piquant edge of cruelty.


One scene in particular is particularly remembered. Charlie, knocked unconscious, dreams that he dances with four wood-nymphs. This virtuoso performance is clearly a tribute to the ballet L’Après-midi d’un faune, created and performed by the great Russian dancer Vaslav Nijinski. Nijinski had visited Chaplin’s studio and the two men clearly had a great mutual admiration. Chaplin was understandably flattered when the Russian dancer and his colleagues complimented him on his own dancing skills.

A Day's Pleasure
A Day’s Pleasure unusually shows Chaplin as the respectable father of a family and the proud owner of a Model-T Ford. This is another film whose light touch conceals the difficulties of its making. Chaplin started out with the simple idea of the story of the hazards of a family excursion; but at first the shooting went slowly. His marital troubles continued to distract him; and reached a crisis when his wife gave birth to a severely handicapped baby which died at two days old. Paradoxically, Chaplin seemed suddenly inspired. A Day’s Pleasure (still known by its working title of Charlie’s Picnic), was abandoned, and work began feverishly on what was to be his masterpiece "The Kid"

Finally it was the impatience of the distribution company, desperate for a new Chaplin film, which led him to finish shooting A Day’s Pleasure in little more than a week. He rented a pleasure boat, which was the kind of prop that always inspired him; and it is probably the speed at which the film was finally finished that gives it its lasting freshness.

The Idle Class


Chaplin was experimenting with new roles for his Tramp character. In The Idle Class (1921) he actually plays two roles - the Tramp and a rich young alcoholic husband. Between them they represent the Idle Rich and the Idle Poor. Everyone in the film is obsessed with America’s dominating passion of the time - the game of golf - and Chaplin has the opportunity for a gag-filled golfing sequence, the prototype for which he had made and abandoned five years before, during his Mutual years.

Pay Day
Pay Day (1922) was Chaplin’s last two-reeler, and again casts him in an unfamiliar role, as a working man and hen-pecked husband. It proved one of his most trouble-free productions and shooting was completed in one month. Like his earlier two-reelers it is divided into distinct “acts”. In the first part he is seen as a workman on a building site (it was actually shot on location on a new building in construction close to the studio) having trouble with bricks, the tools of his trade, and an elevator which at least has a convenient habit of delivering other people’s food to him.

The second “act” shows the workman on a night out and gives Chaplin the possibility for a drunk act of the kind that had brought him fame in the English music halls of his youth.

In the finale, he has to return home in the small hours of the morning to his virago wife, played by the veteran expert in such roles, Phyllis Allen. The film is particularly notable for the expertly shot night scenes of the second act.