Charlie Chaplin, 1925
Oh Lordy. There are two versions of this as well, which means I can't in good consciousness, tick it of the list yet. Le sigh.
But you know what, it doesn't even matter because watching this movie was a revelatory experience for me and I wouldn't trade it for anything. I've mentioned how it's been a long time since I fell in love with a movie, and how that had me discouraged. And I've come close to it -- with Sally Potter's Yes, for example -- but not made it. That experience doesn't come easily, nor, I think, should it. Now I won't say exactly fell in love with this film, but I had a love experience watching it.
I entered my toe into the Chaplin retrospective hesitantly; part of this has just been an antisocial mood. Part of it is a somewhat hesitant attitude toward slapstick; I know Chaplin's one of the masters but a lot of the time it just doesn't do it for me. Also, I don't like to continually bag on D.W. Griffith (OK, I sort of do) but I think my bad experiences with him have made me weary of silent film in general; I fear a (what I presume to be) old-fashioned, cloying sentimentality. Lastly and definitely leastly, I believe I have mentioned in passing a total asshole I dated for two weeks in college. One day, while pontficating (one of his favorite activities) he said "I like Chaplin movies because he never gets the girl." To which I replied: "I like Keaton movies because he always gets the girl." Because I was already starting to loathe the dude, I felt like being both contrary and poetic; in reality, I hadn't (and still haven't) seen enough of either man's work to make such a statement. It's a bullshit High Fidelity dichotomy, but there's a notion that you're either a Chaplin person or a Keaton person, and I had always fancied myself int the latter category, mainly because Keaton has a kind of mellow romanticism.
So what was it like actually watching it? Well, one thing I should have figured on was that a Chaplin retrospective would attract a lot of child viewers. This caused some annoyance -- why is it that all kids feel the need to state exactly what is happening on screen and critical moments? -- and part envy. There was a girl behind me literally shrieking with delight, and I found myself incredibly jealous that I wasn't having that kind of experience.
Or, I should say, that intense of an experience. Because I was pleasantly surprised that I found most of the gags really quite funny, though for some reason I didn't actually laugh out loud that much. (Unfortunately I didn't take notes, so I can't recall which bits actually made me laugh.) There was this particular moment that really made me appreciate Chaplin's comic mastery; about the third time the cabin (which has been blown by the wind halfway over a precipice) teetered back and forth, it stopped being anxiety-producing and became funny.
But it's not just the comedy: Chaplin has real skills with emotion as well. He shows a real feel for loneliness, and when Georgia Hale waltzes past the Tramp to embrace the man behind him, you really feel it. I was reminded of the asshole boyfriend's words, and, since I've been in quite a lonely mood lately, I feared I couldn't handle what Chaplin was going to dish out. Luckily Chaplin gives us wonderful moments of elation as well, like when the Tramp is so thrilled to get a second "date" with Georgia that he totally trashes his cabin.
And guess what, bitches? That pontificating schmuck obviously never bothered to watch The Gold Rush! Coupled with the expertise of Chaplin's storytelling, the experience of expecting to be crushed and getting pleasantly surprised, proved incredibly cathartic. When the words "Happy ending" flashed across the screen I felt a rush of feeling. I left the theater feeling I'd had a complete film experience, invigorated and refreshed.
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