The Chaplin Paradox

No film figure has been in and out of fashion as often as Charlie Chaplin. How remarkable, considering that he was the industry’s first superstar--thanks to the endearing charm and spirit of the Tramp--as well as one of the great comic geniuses of this century. But his Victorian sentiment hasn’t aged well with the cynical crowd in the postmodern era. (Evidently it’s much worse in England, his birthplace, where he’s also disparaged for betraying his class.)

Yet there are a few positive signs of renewed interest in Chaplin: He will have his own stamp as part of the “Geniuses of the 20th Century” series, A&E; will present a biographical documentary in May, and the Los Angeles County Museum of Art will honor him this month with the series “Chaplin: A Life on Film,” the first retrospective of his work in a decade.

So, with the millennium rapidly approaching, it’s really an opportune moment to revisit Chaplin and remind ourselves just how important and paradoxical an artist he was. After all, Buster Keaton, his closest rival, classified him as “the greatest motion picture comedian of all time.”

The LACMA series, which began Friday with “Modern Times” and the shorts “The Idle Class” and “The Kid,” comprises four themes: laughter and tears, the evolution of the Tramp, the social satirist and the music hall. The Chaplin estate has provided LACMA with gorgeous new 35-millimeter prints of his features, and the shorts will feature live musical accompaniment by the invaluable Robert Israel.

David Raksin, the dean of film composers, got his break assisting with the music on “Modern Times,” the landmark 1936 film that incorporated dialogue into Chaplin’s work for the first time and bade farewell to the Tramp. (The film also introduced Paulette Goddard, the director’s strikingly beautiful wife and the most fiercely independent of his leading ladies--very appropriate for this ode to the independence of the common man.)

Like so many others, Raksin found Chaplin utterly charming, gracious, urbane and captivating. He additionally found him “a total autocrat” and was fired after two weeks for asserting his own independence.

“I was about brokenhearted,” Raksin recalls. “But they wanted me back and I loved the job, so Charlie and I tried to come to an understanding. I told him, ‘If you want somebody who will risk his job every day to make sure this music will be as good as it can be, I’d be happy to come back.’ ”

One of Chaplin’s numerous paradoxes was that he was an undaunted cavalier from the 19th century trying to survive the materialistic, isolating, technologically driven 20th century. He was aptly described as a master of comic motion by Mack Sennett, who gave him his break in the Keystone shorts. But more important, Chaplin, who was born April 16, 1889, was the first to blend comedy and pathos into an art form, drawing on his impoverished childhood in south London and his upbringing in the sanctuary of the music hall.

Chaplin’s artistic maturity began during the Mutual years of 1916-17. The dozen two-reelers he made during that time gave him his first taste of complete freedom. “Fulfilling the Mutual contract, I suppose, was the happiest period of my career,” he wrote in “My Autobiography.”

Several Mutual shorts are screening during the series, including perhaps the most poignant of all, “The Immigrant.” Starving in a restaurant and without money, the Tramp outwits that hilariously grumpy Goliath of a waiter, Eric Campbell, with the lovely Edna Purviance at his side for inspiration. Thus survival means nothing without love--a theme that embraces all of his films.

There’s probably no better example of laughter and tears than in “City Lights,” Chaplin’s luminous masterpiece from 1931. It was two years in the making, as he had to contend not only with the death of his mother (institutionalized for insanity throughout her adult life) and a stifling writer’s block that halted production for a few weeks but also the emergence of sound. Yet the director triumphed magnificently with this comedy romance in pantomime.

The essence of Chaplin is encapsulated in this somewhat anachronistic film about the Tramp’s love for a blind flower girl (Virginia Cherrill) and volatile friendship with a suicidal drunken millionaire (Harry Myers). It’s as if Chaplin has transformed Victorian romanticism into a transcendent ideal. Although not much of a visual stylist, he achieves a dynamic use of space here and even a painterly brilliance in some of his compositions--particularly in the final scene.

The ending alone remains transfixed in memory: The flower girl, with her sight recovered, discovers that the Tramp is her benefactor and true love. Critic James Agee wrote: “It is enough to shrivel a heart to see, and it is the highest moment in movies.”

The weekend highlighting the evolution of the Tramp includes such delights as his first appearance, “Kid Auto Races at Venice,” from 1914 (screening Friday); a preview screening of the documentary “Charlie Chaplin: A Tramp’s Life” (directed by Peter Jones, Friday); and “The Gold Rush” (Saturday), the film Chaplin wished to be remembered by.

It’s interesting to observe that the Tramp’s first appearance, in “Kid Auto Races,” has him constantly staring at the camera--sometimes with a pronounced scowl. The documentary, meanwhile, does a nice job of illuminating Chaplin’s various contradictions. “Everything in his life was to get away from the Little Man,” critic-historian Andrew Sarris suggests.

“The Gold Rush,” originally released in 1925, represents the Tramp’s feature debut along with the director’s second release through United Artists (the industry’s first independent alliance, which Chaplin formed with D.W. Griffith, Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford). The original version is being screened with live organ accompaniment by Israel.

Considering its abundance of comic situations (the shoe leather feast and teetering cabin are still hoots), “The Gold Rush” still manages to give the Tramp many private moments--some lonely, some joyful. (No wonder a Berlin projectionist stopped the film and replayed the famous scene with the dancing dinner rolls before continuing the action.) But the film endures especially because of its solemn depiction of love unrequited (despite its forced happy ending with the Tramp’s winning the heart of dance hall girl Georgia Hale).

After abandoning the Tramp and silents, Chaplin concentrated even more heavily on political issues--both publicly and creatively--a development that eventually led to his expulsion in the 1950s. Never an American citizen, he refused to testify about his alleged communist affiliations before the House Committee on Un-American Activities. Demands were made for his deportation, and he was denied reentry into America after attending the London premiere of “Limelight” in 1952. He didn’t come back until 1972, when he was awarded an honorary Oscar.

But a decade earlier he redefined comedy with those two darkly satiric gems “The Great Dictator” (screening Jan. 23) and “Monsieur Verdoux” (Jan. 24).

In “The Great Dictator” (1940), Chaplin daringly explores his most intriguing personal paradox: his compassion and his tyranny. Therefore, the conflict between the barber and the dictator becomes a battle for his very soul. While sound was not Chaplin’s forte (the funniest moments, of course, are full of comic motion), his final plea for human kindness remains deeply moving.

“Verdoux” (1947) takes the horrors of the Holocaust a step further: “Wars, conflict, it’s all business. One murder makes a villain; millions a hero. Numbers sanctify.” With his suave Bluebeard, Chaplin undermines the moralistic goodness of the Tramp. Once again, he was so prescient about the second half of the 20th century.

The last evening, Jan. 31, is devoted to Chaplin’s roots in the music hall, including a screening of “The Circus.” And on this occasion, the U.S. Postal Service will unveil the new Chaplin stamp.

Fittingly, the LACMA series concludes with “Limelight,” Chaplin’s most autobiographical and most underrated work. However, it’s gratifying to find that the 1952 film has struck an emotional chord with audiences in recent years.

In “Limelight” (his only screen appearance with Buster Keaton), Chaplin attempts to reconcile his past for the last time on film. As the drunken clown whom time has passed by in 1914, he plays fairy godfather to Claire Bloom’s distraught ballerina--revisiting the ghosts of his mother, his father (a performer who died prematurely of alcoholism), his lost loves and his bittersweet youth.

Chaplin even cast his son, Sydney, as the romantic lead.

“He was the most insecure man I ever knew,” Sydney says in the documentary. “I wanted to tell him, ‘Dad, you made it!’ ”

The guttersnipe, who died on Christmas Day 20 years ago, made it for all of us. As a Chaplin admirer remarked recently, “He’s only out of fashion until you see his films.”

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* Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 5905 Wilshire Blvd. (213) 857-6010.