THE YOUNG IDEA

Southland Times, Issue 20526, 30 June 1928, Page 13 (Supplement)

THE YOUNG IDEA

THE AET OF CHAPLIN

(By

Susan Lee.

Although one’s fears have been temporarily allayed concerning Charles Chaplin’s announcement that he was going to portray Hamlet, one has only to witness his latest release ‘The Circus” to realize the subtle change in him from the old Charlie of slapstick days. This film has been hailed in the ecstatic Americas as a reversion to those halcyon days when this "Zany with huge, outpointing feet, legs like parentheses, a skimpy bowler hat on his dark curls, an absurd smudge of a moustache under his nose, and a pair of eloquent, Oriental eyes from which flickers a swift alternation of pathos and shyness, hope, momentary triumph and eternal defeat” strutted his way shyly into the hearts of audiences comprising a major portion of the world. In "The Kid” and “The Gold Rush” Chaplin used finer methods, his compromise with the critics who were braying forth his ability to portray the great, serious roles. The result was finer characterization than ever before, but it contained almost as many tears as smiles, and having been taught to look to Mr Chaplin for laughter, one has learned one’s lesson well. Despite the ecstatic Americans, however, I do not consider "The Circus” as great nor as satisfying a production as some of those numbering “Shoulder Arms,” "The Kid,” "The Rink,” and especially "The Gold Rush,” amongst them. Certainly it is a reversion to the good old pie-throwing days; but after one glimpse at Chaplin himself the atmosphere does not ring true. His heavy, dead-white make-up cannot hide the new look in his eyes, the new knowledge which he possesses, and although one admires him for not disguising the evidence of his greying locks, and the tale they tell, it is a matter for wonder that he, with his uncanny sense of the fitness of things, did not recognize the pathetic futility of trying to adjust them to the old setting. Besides, even when thrown by the hand of an artist, custard pies have lost their first charm and freshness. There is no doubt that, like leg-o’-mutton sleeves, they have become oldfashioned.

Mr Chaplin is growing old. The pity of it is that he has not been allowed to grow old naturally and peacefully. Only in that way can there be any beauty in age. One knows that he is, and always has been, a very shy man. His domestic affairs and the harrowing notoriety accompanying them have left their mark on him. He is no longer a young man whose especial brand of the joie-de-vivre prompted him to juggle with laughter. A sensitive man treated with indulgence one minute by a world dealing him unkind cuts the next, does not come out of the fray unmarked. Perhaps that is why "The Circus” was not only disappointing but pathetic. Things as they used to be do not always prepare one for things as they are. The king of laughmakers knows too much, and yet not quite enough, to be successful in aft attempt to recapture that "first, fine, careless rapture” of youth. He is still Chaplin the genius—but he has developed into a comedian, not a laugh-maker. His brother Sydney, a hardworking, painstaking man, is the latter, and evokes shrieks of laughter. A comedian knows as much about tears as laughter, and makes use of the contrast. The Americans welcome Charlie back "to his own undisputed kingdom of the custard pie.” It must be their loyalty that cloaks their disappointment.

In the course of a speech to the National Board of Review, Max Reinhardt, the great German producer, said: To represent man in form and spirit is the most tempting and the most essential task in the development of the motion picture. One great artist has already done great things in this direction. I refer to Charles Chaplin, an artist very dear to my heart. His achievement is of historical importance, and will never be forgotten. Chaplin is poet, director and actor all in one. He '’oes not adapt novels or plays. He

creates directly in terms of motion pictures. He has enriched the Commoedia del Arte with an immortal figure. Around this figure he has created a modern fairy tale which, despite its silence, makes us laugh and cry. But the figure itself neither laughs nor cries. Chaplin’s artistic integrity is admirable. It is impossible to speak of the. motion picture without beginning and ending with him. For in the beginning of this wordless art was Charles Chaplin.

Such a spontaneous tribute from such a man establishes his rank as a world Did not the people themselves do that ? Even in Fathest China he is adored as Cha-Po-Lin.

Only such a man, then, could return to slapstick with any hope of success. And "The Circus” compares favourably with his former films; it is the new Chaplin who is peculiarly out of place there. The pantomime in the lion’s cage when, finding himself locked in, he attracts Merna’s attention, and she, seeing his danger, promptly faints, is extremely clever, extremely human. But it is too clever to evoke shrieks of laughter. Only the painfully obvious can do that, with very broad effects. His expressions while sitting with Merna watching his rival walking the tight-rope, are positively inspired. He portrays disdain for the courage of the tight-rope walker, and yet this expression is mingled with flashes of appreciation for his art. His eyebrows and shoulders appear to belie his mouth, as he tries to impress upon Merna that his rival really is of precious little account. Then he has a hope, a wicked hope, that through his "malicious animal magnetism” the tight-rope walker may miss his footing. This wish prompts him to turn his body something after the manner of a man after striking a ball on the putting-green. It is in fine work of that type that Chaplin has revealed a new self.

As a picture "The Circus” would have been improved had Merna, after the Tramp had taken his rival to her, repudiated him and thrown in her lot with the Tramp, who, after all, was the hero of the story. The pose Chaplin has created for himself, however, would not permit that. There must be pathos in the little, incongruous figure in the final fade-out, so like other fade-outs of others of his pictures. He does not portra’- anybody but Chapjin. The pictures are his vehicles, not he theirs. One wonders whether, with his genius becoming too subtle for the common movie-herd, he is not allowing the Hamlet idea to prey too heavily on him. It is stated quite authoritatively that a future film will be "Charlie Chaplin’s Conception of Napoleon”; but whether it is to be Chaplin or the little figure he has created, is still a matter for speculation. One wishes the world were kinder to genius.