City Lights (1931)

"Tomorrow the birds will sing."

Director

Charles Chaplin

Cast
Charlie Chaplin - The Tramp
Virginia Cherrill - the blind girl
Florence Lee - her grandmother
Harry Myers - the eccentric millionaire
Allan Garcia - his butler
Hank Mann - the prizefighter

When it comes to how great a storyteller Charlie Chaplin is, two movies come straight to my mind. The first is "The Kid" from 1921 and this one, "City Lights" released in 1931. Both are silent movies.
These two movies demonstrate perfectly well how meticulous Chaplin is when telling a story. No detail goes unnoticed as he ensures all elements fall into place with the right pacing, and at the right time. 

As I mentioned in my review of "The Kid," because of his artistic creativity and careful dedication, movies like "City Lights" hit all the right emotional chords with an almost flawless balance of comedy and drama.
In "City Lights," Charlie Chaplin falls in love with a flower girl (Virginia Cherrill) he happens to stumble into while out and about in the city.Of course, he buys a flower from her, and then figures out she's blind. 

Through a simple yet creative way only Chaplin could have thought up, she mistakes him for a wealthy man though she can't see. Determined to help improve her circumstances despite his own lack of resources, he navigates through various comedic misadventures, unlikely friendships, and personal sacrifices to help her obtain a better life, and her eyesight.

Between "City Lights," "The Kid" and his other amazing movie, "The Gold Rush" from 1925, I can't honestly point to any of these and say that's Charlie Chaplin's greatest movie. It's one hell of a toss-up. But I do lean heavily towards "City Lights" as being his greatest film achievement. 

I guess when all three films have been picked apart, analyzed, criticized, praised and considered thoroughly, it all depends on how each emotionally tugging story hits its audience. 

Virginia Cherrill and Chaplin in "City Lights."

Among the unique aspects of "City Lights" is that it's a silent movie that was filmed and released when all the other movies hitting theaters at the time had already gone to talking.
This detail has been written and discussed long before I was born.
In the book "Chaplin's Films" author Uno Asplund writes, "[City Lights'] triumph was obvious. Once again Charlie, in a 'silent', had quelled the uproar of the talkies all around him. City Lights offered what was perhaps his most original story-line, constructed round the blind flower girl with pathos and romance, tenderness and feeling. The film is not excessively sentimental, and his audiences smiled through their years. City Lights is one of Chaplin's greatest films - none of his later productions were to reach the same heights." (Asplund 155)
The film withholds its strongest emotional impact until the final scene - right where it needs to and where it's most effective. It's as though the story saves it all for that final sweet moment. I mean, it's not void of emotion until the end. The real touching salvo is saved for that last scene. It's hard, even for the most impassive of audience members, not to get a bit misty in that final scene. 
And like "The Kid," Chaplin's musical score fits satisfyingly well. It tells the tale just as much as the pictures do. The score is a mix of the uncaring determined busyness of the city which dissolves into a soft and romantic score that slows city life down to focus on something meaningful and fulfilling. But the city's fast-paced way of life inserts itself from time to time into that romantic interlude. The city finds a way to insert itself into people's otherwise happy lives and merry pursuits.
"City Lights" stands out because Chaplin is stubbornly brilliant, and that brilliance stands out in this movie specifically. 

As I previously mentioned, he released this silent movie when talkies were booming, trusting that his pantomime artistry could outlast talking pictures.

In his book, "My Autobiography," Chaplin says, "A good silent picture had universal appeal both to the intellectual and the rank and file. Now it was all to be lost. But I was determined to continue making silent films, for I believed there was room for all types of entertainment. Besides, I was a pantomimist, and in that medium I was unique and, without false modesty, a master. So I continued with the production of another silent picture, City Lights." (Chaplin 325) 

The film balances slapstick comedy with real emotional weight, as the Tramp’s devotion to the blind flower girl feels completely sincere.

Harry Myers next to Charlie Chaplin.

Chaplin also states in his book that the plot of the movie originated as a story about a clown who loses his eyesight after an accident at the circus. 

This clown takes care of his little girl who, unfortunately, is a sick and timid child.
The doctor warns the clown not to let his daughter know about his blindness until she's old enough to understand lest the worry wreaks havoc on the poor kid's health. So, the clown does his best to hide his blindness from her all while constantly bumping into things and tripping over everything else. That luckily makes her laugh as she thinks her dad is just being silly.
"But that was too 'icky.' However. the blindness of the clown was transferred to the flower girl in City Lights," Chaplin says. (Chaplin 325)
"City Lights" is a confident movie. Chaplin trusted his expertise, talent, expression, music, and carefully constructed depictions and emotions. That confidence shines in every scene. It's a movie about selflessness, lonliness, and dedication. The final scene is one of the most emotionally moving scenes in any movie before or since. 

"City Lights" is substantial proof that silent movies, even those from nearly a century ago, can withstand time and film evolution, and still come forth as an impactful experience for modern audiences in 2026.  

1) Asplund, Uno. Chaplin’s Films. Translated from the Swedish by Paul Britten Austin, A. S. Barnes, 1976, p. 155.

2) Charlie Chaplin. My Autobiography. Simon and Schuster, 1964.

Limelight (1952)

"If anyone else says, 'It's like old times,' I'll jump out the window." 

Director

Charles Chaplin

Cast

Charlie Chaplin - Calvero
Claire Bloom - Thereza "Terry" Embrose
Sydney Earl Chaplin - Ernest Neville
Marjorie Bennett - Mrs. Alsop
Nigel Bruce - Postant
Norman Lloyd - Bodalink
Snub Pollard - Street Musician
Buster Keaton - Calvero's partner
Charles Chaplin III - a clown

Gerith Von Ulm's unauthorized biography of Charlie Chaplin, published in 1940, is titled, "Charlie Chaplin: King of Tragedy." 

The comedian/ clown, Chaplin, fitting the role of a "King of tragedy" is certainly apparent when watching a lot of his movies. The tragedy in Chaplin's comedies could fill volumes.  

I can't speak for Chaplin himself, but it's pretty clear the tragedy he wrote in his 1952 movie "Limelight" is truly his own. That tragedy would be watching himself moving slowly towards obscurity or irrelevance, at least in his own mind. 

As the late Carrie Fisher said decades after Chaplin's death in 1977, "Fame is obscurity biding its time." 

Like most Charlie Chaplin movies, especially "Modern Times," "The Great Dictator," "Monsieur Verdoux," and "A King in New York," there's a lot to pick apart when it comes to "Limelight."

I've been anxious to comment on this movie, along with a small handful of his other films, -"City Lights," "A Woman of Paris," and maybe "Modern Times." We'll see about that last one. 

"Limelight" is a fitting title for this movie. It's about an artist living in the aftermath of his art. It's about nostalgia and the desire for the old days. 

The story is set in London sometime after World War I. Chaplin plays "Calvero" - an aged entertainer who was once well-known around England. But that respected past is now just fond memories and bad dreams. Calvero is now a struggling alcoholic, aging as he watches himself slowly fade into the footnotes of the entertainment world. 

After returning home to his apartment building one evening, sloshed, stumbling and trying not to bump into the landlady, Mrs. Alsop (Marjorie Bennett) as he's behind on rent, Calvero saves a young girl, Terry Embrose (Claire Bloom) as she tries to kill herself by filling her apartment with gas. 

Charlie Chaplin and Claire Bloom in 'Limelight.'

He rescues her, takes her up to his apartment to get her away from the gas, and calls a doctor. 

They become acquainted as she convalesces in his apartment. Terry tells Calvero that she has always wanted to be a famous dancer.

As she recovers from her attempted suicide, Terry claims she can't feel her legs and can't walk. 

Calvero soon becomes a source of inspiration and stronger self-confidence to return to the dancing she loves. 

While he builds her up, Calvero begins finding his owns sense of purpose. 

Her health improves, and so does her career. But Calvero struggles to reclaim the popularity and success he once had during his theater days.  

After spending time with Calvero, the inevitable happens. Terry falls in love with him despite the difference in their ages. 

She also tells him about a period in her life when she worked at a stationary store, and a handsome young composer named Ernest Neville (Sydney Earl Chaplin) would stop in to purchase blank music sheets. 

She was obviously interested in Neville but didn't pursue any sort of involvement. She would, however, sneak him a few extra music sheets at no charge. 

Calvero thinks this Neville would be a perfect match for Terry. He wants her to live a truly happy life, and she won't find that living with him. 

After years go by, Terry finds well-deserved success as a dancer. Calvero, meanwhile, has disappeared as he believes he can't have the success he once enjoyed. He tried to recapture it but failed when he attempted a return to the stage only to be met with terrible reviews. 

Working as a street musician, Calvero runs into Neville. The two had met at one of Terry's rehearsals during which time Neville recognized her, but she didn't really let on that she recognized him, too. Anyways, he tells Terry where Calvero is, and she tracks him down to do one last benefit performance. 

Calvero agrees and is reunited with an old comedy partner of his, played by silent film comedian, Buster Keaton. Together, they do a hilarious musical sketch that's worth waiting for.  

The benefit performance is a huge hit, but no one expected the tragedy that followed. 

If I could sum up the point of this movie in one word, that would be "longing." The movie is called "Limelight" after all. What celebrity doesn't yearn for the limelight, especially when it starts to cease shining on them and leave them in their own memories and nostalgia to stew in. 

In the book, "Chaplin's Films," author Uno Asplund writes, "In its own way Limelight can be regarded as Chaplin's film about himself, if not in its outward action at least in the thoughts, feelings and places it presents. In it he finds expression, in his own inimitable way, for his love of his art and of the world of the stage which the old variety artist Calvero says he hates but which is nonetheless indispensable to him." 1

If this had been Chaplin’s last movie, it would have been a perfect way to close out his acting career.

But it's not his last. He went on to make "A King in New York" because he was mad at America for, basically, kicking him out of the country. The U.S. did just that in 1952 while Chaplin was sailing to the U.K. for the premier of "Limelight." 

"A King in New York" feels like a movie made by a jilted boyfriend getting back at his ex-girlfriend for dumping him. My biggest fans surely remember everything else I said about that flick. 

Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin.

With "Limelight" it's as though Chaplin is writing his own eulogy...perhaps. 

Calvero is Chaplin thinking of himself as a great entertainer, which I wouldn't deny that he is, put aside by the world in exchange for some new faces. Sometimes time can be a person's best friend. There's no such thing as an old joke if you've never heard it before. I think Groucho Marx said that? I can't remember where I heard that before.

Daniel Taradash,  President of the Motion Picture of Arts and Sciences in 1972, said as much about time when Chaplin received an honorary Oscar. 

"Time is Chaplin's oldest and dearest friend," he said.

By 1952, Chaplin had been the subject of public outcry for a scandal or two, and his public image of innocence was already tarnished and smeared in the papers. 

Chaplin's best days as a movie maker and comedian were behind him by 1952. "Limelight" has a couple sequences in which Calvero has a reoccurring dream where he's doing a stage performance which ends with him looking out into a completely empty theater. Later, through a speech about faded applause and forgotten performers, Chaplin's fear of becoming irrelevant pops out.

So, to build up his significance, he has to keep performing. 

Then Terry comes into his life. She's youthful. She's the fresh new face audiences want. She's artistic rebirth. 

There's even a scene in which Calvero is giving one of his bedside lectures to Terry and while doing so he points at his head telling her what his father used to tell him, "Here lies the greatest toy, the secret of all happiness." 

He saves her physically. Terry, in turn, keeps his hopes of gaining one last chance at significance alive and ignited. Terry tries to convince Calvero that he still matters. I think it's a really safe and accurate assumption that Chaplin wanted to believe he still mattered, if he didn't already believe that in 1952. 

And by the end, Calvero dies to the sound of a packed theater, vibrating with an ovation. 

"Limelight" packs in a lot of Chaplin. It doesn't just star Charlie, it also stars some offspring of his. Sydney Chaplin who is Chaplin's son with his second wife, Lita Grey, plays Neville. Chaplin and Lita's other son, Charlie Chaplin, Jr., plays a clown seen on stage during the charity performance rehearsal.  

And his young children Michael, Geraldine, and Josephine, whom he had with his fourth and final wife, Oona O'Neill, play the children seen in the beginning of the film. 

And it's worth pointing out that when Chaplin first steps into frame in the opening scene, his character is drunk. It occurred to me that playing a drunk was something Chaplin was well known for back in his Vaudeville days. Audiences loved watching him play a drunk when he was performing in music halls with the Fred Karno Company. 

It's a routine he was so good at, he ended up doing this schtick in his 1916 film short, "One AM." His whole performance there is nothing but acting drunk. He also pulls out his drunk routine in his 1922 movie, "Pay Day." 

It's a creative homage to a routine that fueled his career to the height that it gained, and a well-played start to this movie about Chaplin's longing for his past. 

As for his co-star, Claire Bloom, this is her third movie. In a recent episode of the podcast, "Chaplin Talks," hosted by Charlie Chaplin's grandson, Spencer Chaplin, broadcast January 14, 2026, Bloom discusses her experience working with Charlie, and how she got the role in "Limelight." 

In the interview, Bloom comments that she and Chaplin's wife Oona resembled each other quite a bit. 

"I think the film in many ways, though it wasn't said, is dedicated to her and her love for him," she said in her interview. 2.

"Limelight" is a movie full of exposition of sorts in which Chaplin preaches to the audience through dialogue that's spoken like an artist worried about growing old, the label of obscurity, and where an artist goes when the audience isn't looking anymore, at least not like they used to. They're looking to new, untarnished faces for their entertainment. 

Nowadays, Chaplin is past the nostalgic phase as there's no one alive who watched his movies on the big screen during his peak of popularity back in the 1910s, 1920s and 1930s. He's an historical figure now in the entertainment category. He's a trivia question. He's a founding father of cinema. Despite any fears he may have had, he hasn't faded into obscurity. 

But by the end, Calvero accepts the fact that he already fulfilled what he was meant to do. The limelight is always going to fade out at some point, even on the greatest of entertainers.

1. Asplund, Uno. Chaplin’s Films. Translated by Paul Britten Austin, A. S. Barnes, 1976, p. 179.

2. “Claire Bloom on Limelight: Remembering Charlie Chaplin.” Chaplin Talks, hosted by Spencer Chaplin, YouTube, 14 Jan. 2026, YouTube video 

I LOVE YOU DADDY

Kid Auto Races at Venice (1914)

Director 

Henry Lehrman

Cast

Charlie Chaplin - The Tramp

Henry Lehrman - The Film Director

Frank D. Williams - Cameraman

February should be dedicated to comedian, actor, director, and producer, Charlie Chaplin. 

On February 7, 1914 - 109 years ago this month - Chaplin debuted his famous "Little Tramp" character in his second film, "Kid Auto Races at Venice." In his first film, "Making a Living," a one-reel comedy also released in February of 1914, Chaplin plays a con man who tries to convince a passerby to give him money. It turns out this stranger comes from a wealthy family. That leads to a bunch of shenanigans involving a newspaper scoop, and hilarity ensues. 

Chaplin appears in his first movie with a top hat, frock coat, monocle, and droopy handlebar mustache. It's a film full of pantomime and action. Though Chaplin's character is largely different in appearance from the character he introduces in his next film, the act of obtaining easy money, trying to court the pretty daughter of this wealthy family he intrudes upon, and trying to make a good impression on the mother is typical of the "Tramp" who would introduce himself to the world soon after the release of "Making a Living." 

In his book "My Autobiography," Chaplin says in regard to his "Little Tramp" character, "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 [Mack] 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 makeup made me feel the person he was. I began to know him, and by the time I walked on stage he was fully born."

Incidentally, Chaplin's first film as the "Little Tramp" was "Mabel's Strange Predicament" (1914) but that wasn't released until after "Kid Auto Races at Venice."

The movie was shot during the real Junior Vanderbilt Cup races in Venice, Calif. Both Chaplin and director Henry Lehrman improvised most or all of the gags during the filming. 

In this film, produced by Mack Sennett as mentioned in the quote above (i.e. the "King of Comedy'), Chaplin plays a spectator at a "baby-cart race" in Venice. 

A cameraman (Frank Williams) is trying to film the race. Chaplin, however, spots the camera and takes more of an interest in it than in the race. He constantly enters the frame while the cameraman pushes him and pleads with him to get out of the shot. What starts as an act of vanity becomes retaliation on Chaplin's part. 

He obnoxiously tries to get into the shot as the cameraman moves around in frustration trying to shoot the race. He makes faces at the camera, and even sticks his tongue out. Chaplin introducing himself to audiences by sticking his tongue out is mockery and cynicism at its best. It makes me think of satirical humor seen in American comedy platforms like "National Lampoon" and "Mad Magazine." 

Chaplin however becomes more and more persistent in trying to be in the shot. The more the cameraman pushes Chaplin out of the way, the more Chaplin intentionally gets in the way. 

The entire film is depicted like a newsreel. In some shots, the camera is the one actually filming. At other times, the audience's point of view is through a second camera, watching this other cameraman work his camera on screen while dealing with the intrusive Chaplin. 

It's certainly in character for Chaplin to insist that he be in front of the spotlight where an audiences' attention is narrowed in. 

It brings to mind his 1952 film "Limelight" in which Chaplin's character, Calvero, an old Vaudeville performer, is no longer in the spotlight. There's a scene in "Limelight" where Calvero has a dream that he's back in Vaudeville performing his act. When the act is over, Calvero looks out and notices the theater seats are completely empty. No one is out there applauding him. No one cares enough about him anymore to come see his act. "Limelight", by the way, takes place in 1914 - the same year Chaplin got his start in film.  

Chaplin seems to have carried on this affinity for being in front of the camera. He's insistent on being seen and making a spectacle of himself for a laugh in "Kid Auto Races." The worst thing to happen to someone like him would be to have no one laugh and applaud his performance.  

The comedy in this movie still holds up a century later. 

In one scene, the camera pans along the crowd of spectators watching the race. And in the middle of the crowd is Chaplin just staring at the camera. As the camera continues panning, he gets up and follows along the movement. 

The crowd is forced to stay in behind the ropes. Chaplin, meanwhile, moves freely around refusing to be forced to go someplace else that's out of the way. This little fellow won't be pushed down. He gets back up and starts all over again.

It's true to Chaplin's form that he successfully steals the show during an auto race at Venice Beach. Despite the lack of a story, some seeds are planted in this film. Here, he has discovered the motion picture camera, and the motion picture camera has discovered him. He grimaces. He sticks his tongue out. He runs around. He intrudes. He leaps and skips down the racetrack. The film is a beautiful introduction to a humble not-so-humble legend that would continue this same act to the pleasure of audiences for another 30 years, and then some. 

The Kid (1921)

"A picture with a smile - and perhaps, a tear."

Director

Charlie Chaplin

Cast

Charlie Chaplin - The Tramp

Jackie Coogan - The Kid "John"

Edna Purviance - The mother

Carl Miller - The father

Tom Wilson - The policeman

Charles Reisner - The bully

Twice have I claimed on this blog that I consider myself a great admirer of Charlie Chaplin, praising his genius and theatrical mastery all while criticizing two of his films - "Monsieur Verdoux" (1947) and "A King in New York" (1957). 
How impudent of me, but not really. 
Chaplin's movie "The Kid" from 1921 is a film I've wanted to post my thoughts on for quite some time.
I'm willing to bet all my DVDs that the majority of people alive have at least one movie they'll watch again and again, and never grow tired of. For me, "The Kid" is one of those movies.  
There are several Chaplin movies I love as I find his artistic creativity and careful dedication to telling a story that hits all the right chords with an almost flawless balance of comedy and drama truly inspiring. 

Chaplin wrote, produced, directed, composed, and acted in a majority of his films. Most importantly, he thought the stories through scene by scene, line by line. 
Directors like Chaplin, who have the sharpest eye for detail, don't come around often. Stanley Kubrick is the only other director that comes to mind whom I would put on the same level as Chaplin. 

His first full-length movie "The Kid" is a film about family bond above all else, forgiveness, and repentance.
It brings to mind a quote from the 2000 movie "Finding Forrester." In that film, Sean Connery's character "William Forrester" gives a speech in which he discusses family. 
"Losing family obliges us to find our family," Forrester says. "Not always the family that is our blood, but the family that can become our blood. Should we have the wisdom to open our door to this new family, we will find that the wishes we had for the father who once guided us, and for the brother who once inspired us, are not merely wishes at all. A family is not what you always imagine it will be." 
The movie opens with a woman (Edna Purviance - Chaplin's leading lady in several of his pictures), unwed and alone, leaving a hospital with a baby in her arms. "Whose sin was motherhood," the title card reads. 

There's no one to greet her at the hospital. She walks with her newborn baby, lost, through the streets wondering where to go and what to do next. 
As she goes from one place to another, her life now changed, an image of Christ carrying His cross to Calvary slowly fades into frame, and then fades out.
The mother passes by a large house with a limousine parked out front. An idea comes into her head. 
She thinks about it for a moment, and then places the baby in the back seat of the limo with a note attached asking that whoever finds the child to please take care of him. 
After she runs off, two thieves approach the car making sure the coast is clear. 
Once they think no one is looking, the steal the limo without noticing the baby in the back. 
They drive to a dirty alleyway in the slum part of town. When they park, they hear the kid crying. So, they place him by some garbage cans, and drive off as quick as they can.
Charlie comes along, unaware of everything going on, and finds the abandoned baby. There's a carriage nearby with another baby inside. He thinks who ever that carriage belongs to must have dropped their other kid. So, he puts the baby inside.
The mother comes out and catches him. She starts beating on him for messing with her child. After a few more attempts to give someone else the baby, he sits down and tries to come up with a plan. Charlie finds the note and then chooses to take care of the child himself. 

Jackie Coogan and Charlie Chaplin.

Despite living in a ramshackle home in the slums, with no money and very little possessions, he still cares for the baby.

Five years go by. Not only has the bond between the Tramp and the kid become as strong as a father and son relationship, they also have a working partnership. He and the kid work together repairing windows. 

The kid's job is to throw rocks at random windows without getting caught. Charlie's job is to coincidentally walk by after the damage is done, and offer to repair them. 

Meanwhile, the mother has since become a renowned singer. Despite the attention and fame, she still carries the guilt of abandoning her son. To make some kind of penance for her sin, she spends her free time helping the poor living in the slums where Charlie and the kid live.

During a visit, the woman sees the kid watching her as she hands out toys to other children. She doesn't realize who he is as she gives him a toy, which he accepts fondly.

He plays with his new toy, which may be the only toy he's ever been given, as she departs. A bully sneaks up behind him, snatches it, and runs off. 

The kid chases him and, in no time, they're engaged in a fist fight out in the street. 

The bully's big brother comes on scene, as does Charlie to break up the fight. But the big brother insists the kids fight. Not necessarily keen on the idea, Charlie interferes. In no time, Charlie and the older brother are fighting. 

The mother returns, breaks up their fight, and offers counsel to Charlie and the bully's brother.  

When the ruckus is settled, the kid isn't looking too good. The mother advises the Tramp to call a doctor.

After the doctor arrives and examines the bedridden kid, he learns Charlie isn't the boy's father. He shows the doctor the note he found with the kid five years ago.

The doctor reports this to welfare workers who show up later with a police officer to take the child away. 

Charlie, however, doesn't let them take the kid so easily. He fights back, rescues the kid, and runs away.

After he's gone, the mother comes by Charlie's home to see how the boy is fairing. She bumps into the doctor who tells her they're gone, and shows her the note. She recognizes that it's the same note she left with her baby years ago.

Hiding from the authorities doesn't last long. The law soon catches up with Charlie, but all is not lost for him. His care in raising and loving this orphan child despite his poverty when no one else would doesn't remain unappreciated. 

The drama cuts deep in this comedy.

Chaplin's method of storytelling is so delicate, precise, and masterful. Without saying a word, he controls the audience's emotions like a child holds a balloon. It's his true medium.

"The Kid" is a perfect example of how well Chaplin can tell not only a great story, but an emotionally compelling one and still make room for humor that's neither out of place nor inappropriate for the subject at hand. 

The acting is absolutely accomplished in this silent film. 

In one scene, Edna chats with a woman on the sidewalk outside the Tramp's home. She asks if she can hold this woman's newborn baby. As Edna holds the baby, her smile begins to fade. The pain and regret of the past creeps onto her face as she looks in the camera. No words are spoken. Her expression speaks volumes. At the same time, the kid walks out of the house behind her, unaware that his true mother is standing right there. And Edna is just as unaware that her child whom she's thinking about is standing behind her. 

The most emotional scene in the story occurs when the cop and welfare workers hold Charlie down while forcefully snatching the kid out of his arms. One of them takes the kid, whose kicking and screaming, and puts him in the back of their truck. Some women are standing by outside the Tramp's home watching this occur.

The child, sobbing profusely, pleads and begs with these women to help him. But there's nothing they can do. 

In desperation, he turns his gaze to heaven, and begs God to help.  

As the doctor and the police officer restrain Charlie inside, he stares into at the camera with a face full of pain and fear, listening to his boy's cries from outside. But he can't get to him. It's one of the most heart wrenching scenes in silent film history, as far as I've seen. 

This is where Jackie Coogan's powerful performance comes in. He was about seven-years old when he appeared in "The Kid." Coogan masters the art of conveying a ton of emotions in this movie - anguish, joviality, shyness, and feigned innocence. But this scene showcases how truly great a young actor Coogan is.

Watching his performance as the kid being ripped from the arms of the only father he's known is exceptional, amazing, and tear-inducing. 

Incidentally, Coogan, whom I've heard referred to as "America's first child star" continued his acting career into his adult years. He's well known for playing "Uncle Fester" in the sitcom "The Addams Family." 

Each time I watch "The Kid," it leaves me with the same questions. QWhat happened after the mother meets the Tramp at the end, knowing he indeed loved and cared for her child when she felt she wouldn't be able to?
Also, what did she decide to do with the real father?

The copy of "The Kid" I have is on VHS, distributed as part of the "Charlie Chaplin Centennial Collection" from MK2 and Warner Home Video. It's packaged with his 1921 film "The Idle Class." 

The version I re-watched the other day is on Amazon Prime streaming service. This streamed version didn't have the movie score I'm familiar with. It also has some scenes that aren't included on my VHS copy. One scene in particular, which was new to me, shows the mother attending a suave party. As she walks in, she sees the man with whom she had her child out of wedlock with. 

The smiles leave both their faces when their eyes meet. It's an awkward moment, and that sentiment spills into the audience. 

The woman politely excuses herself onto the patio. The gentleman follows her without trying to draw attention to himself. 

Out on the patio, the two exchange a few words, but then say nothing. They stand there silent, not looking at each other, contemplating their past together, and what became of their son. This scene answered that question I had. What did this woman decide to do in regards to the kid's father?

According to imdb.com, Chaplin decided to release a new version of "The Kid" in 1972. The website claims this new version was given a new music score composed by Chaplin. 

He also re-edited the film, and cut a few scenes featuring the kid's mother as he thought they were toosentimental for modern audiences. My guess is that my VHS copy is the 1972 version of the film while the version streaming on Amazon is the original cut.

Chaplin did something similar to his 1925 film "The Gold Rush" but that's another post for another time.

His soundtrack for "The Kid", just like so many of his other soundtracks, fits the film so perfectly. Not very many soundtracks capture the mood of the characters as well as this one. It's flawless. I consider it, hands down, one of the best music scores in film history. Even as I download images from the movie onto this post, the dramatic soundtrack plays in my head. It's a memorable and crucial part of the story.

Still, I wish there was an epilogue to this story. Did the boy stay with Charlie as he was the only father he had? Did the woman give the Tramp a better place to stay, and an opportunity to work an honest job? Did the child stay with his real mother and keep in close contact with the Tramp? I guess it's for the audience to decide. One thing is certain, the Tramp is the true father in this story. 

He's not the blood father, but the father that can become such to the child. After all, a family is not what you always imagine it will be. 

There are a handful of films I think are such a foundational part of our American cinematic culture. Films like "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs", "Citizen Kane", "The Wizard of Oz" and "E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial" are among such films. They should be seen by everyone at least once. Chaplin has a few such films, and "The Kid" is without a doubt one of them. It's visual proof of Chaplin's theatrical expertise.

Monsieur Verdoux (1947)

"This is a ruthless world and one must be ruthless to cope with it." 

Director

Charles Chaplin

Cast

Charles Chaplin - Henri Verdoux 

Mady Correll - Mona Verdoux

Allison Rodan - Peter Verdoux

Martha Raye - Annabella Bonheur

Isobel Elsom - Marie Grosnay

Margaret Hoffman - Lydia Floray

Marilyn Nash - The Girl

Back in April, I claimed my fandom of the legendary Charlie Chaplin and his work as a actor, producer, director, writer, and composer all while criticizing his film A King in New York. I said, in so many words, it's a movie made by a jilted Chaplin. 

Back in 1947, Chaplin made a movie called Monsieur Verdoux which doesn't seem to be talked about as much when it comes to his talking films. However, to me, it sticks out above the rest of his work, even more so than his first all-talking picture, The Great Dictator (1940). 

The Great Dictator is a satire on fascism with Chaplin in duel roles as a Jewish barber resembling his famed "Little Tramp" character, as well as a mocking portrayal of Adolf Hitler, named "Hynkel." 

But Monsieur Verdoux is significant for a few reasons. It's his first movie in which he plays a character that in no way resembles his "Tramp." It's also labeled as a "dark comedy" since Chaplin plays a man who murders his wives for their wealth. It's worth mentioning that actor William Frawley (Fred from I Love Lucy) has a role in this movie as well. So, there's that. 

As per his usual genius and impressive skills, Chaplin wrote, directed, starred in, and scored this film. The story is based on real life French serial killer, Henri Landru, who's nickname was "the Bluebeard of Gambais." 

Between 1915 and 1919, Landru is believed to have murdered at least seven women in the Gambais area of France. It's also believed he murdered three other women and one man in a house he was renting in the town of Vernouillet.

Actor and director, Orson Welles, is credited for writing the story for Monsieur Verdoux. The circumstances leading to the movie's production fall victim to testimony between Welles and Chaplin, and is one crazy story in itself. 

When it comes to media outlets versus an audiences' reception of movies, very little has seemed to change between 1947 and now. Even today, media critics tend to love what general audiences hate. It's a common trend on rottentomatoes.com.

At the release of the movie, film critic Richard Coe of the Washington Post called Monsieur Verdoux "a bold, brilliant, and bitterly amusing film." 

Writer Evelyn Waugh, who generally loved Charlie Chaplin, seemed torn about the movie. He said it's a "startling and mature work of art" while also saying he thought "there is a 'message' and I think a deplorable one."  After all, this wasn't the same Chaplin whom Waugh admired during his childhood.

Charlie Chaplin as Henri Verdoux in Monsieur Verdoux (1947).

Meanwhile, Monsieur Verdoux sparked protests and bans in various parts of the U.S. By the 1940s, Chaplin's public persona and popularity was marred by scandals and political controversies that were deemed un-American.

That's not to say all critics back when Chaplin's movie was released were praising it. 

Howard Barnes of the New York Herald Tribune wrote "Chaplin has composed what he likes to term 'a comedy of murders' with a woeful lack of humor, melodrama or dramatic taste."

I first watched this movie more than 25-years ago. It wasn't the Chaplin I was accustomed to back then so my teenage self found it boring. I haven't seen it since until a few nights ago.

Chaplin plays Henri Verdoux - a man who doesn't let beauty go ignored, appreciates the innocence of youth, and takes pleasure in murdering his wives. 

Having worked as a bank teller for thirty years before being laid-off, he has turned to a life of marrying wealthy women, and then killing them for their wealth. He does this for the sake of caring and supporting his real wife, Mona (Mady Correll), and their young son, Peter (Allison Roddan). Of course, Mona is unaware of Henri's double lives and crimes while he's away.

The family of one of his wives, Thelma Couvais, immediately grow suspicious after she withdraws all her money from the bank and then disappears just two weeks after marrying Verdoux whom they think is named 'Varnay'. All they have is a picture of him.

Verdoux is introduced to the audience in a rather grim scene. As he's trimming roses from his garden, black smoke billows from his chimney. Some of his neighbor ladies complain to themselves how they can't put their laundry out as he's been burning for the last three days. Of course, the audience catches on that one of his wives is in that furnace.  

Verdoux is trying to sell Thelma's home when a wealthy widow named Marie Grosnay (Isobel Elsom) drops by to take a look at the house. 

Verdoux sees this visit as another potential source of illegitimate income. So, he attempts to woo her right away.

Grosnay declines his advances, but Verdoux doesn't give up that easily. 

He orders flowers to be sent to Grosnay regularly over the next several weeks, hoping she'll change her mind.

While this is taking place, Verdoux realizes he is low on money. He needs more to invest. 

So, under the pseudonym of M. Floray, he pays a visit to his "wife" Lydia (Margaret Hoffman). 

Though she's bitter with him because his "engineering job" keeps him away for long periods of time, Verdoux convinces her to withdraw her money and valuables from her bank. He claims her money will be safer in the home lest in the financially troubling times, the powers that be help themselves to what she has in the bank.

Lydia reluctantly agrees, and is left second-guessing her actions.

That night, just before she becomes Verdoux's next victim, he stares out into the night through a large window at the end of the hallway.

"How beautiful this pale, Endymion hour," he says.

"What are you talking about," Lydia shouts at him off-screen from the bedroom.

"Endymion, my dear - a beautiful youth possessed by the moon."

In Greek mythology, Endymion was an attractive boy who spent his life in perpetual sleep. And Verdoux finds some beauty in murder. 

With more money in hand, Verdoux returns to his real home to visit his Mona whom we find is wheel chair bound. 

Later that evening, they have a dinner party at their house with some friends of theirs, one of whom is a chemist. 

Chaplin stars alongside and Margaret Hoffman in Monsieur Verdoux

During dinner, the chemist chats a bit about a formula he has created that puts animals to sleep without any pain.

Verdoux is intrigued by this. But the chemist tells him that he had to cease working on it after the pharmaceutical board banned it. 

Verdoux suggests he could test this chemical himself on a vagrant off the street, much to the horror of the chemist. But Verdoux blows off the comment as a joke. 

When he gets a chance later in his office at a furniture store, Verdoux attempts to recreate that chemical.

Walking home in the pouring rain, he runs into a young lady (Marilyn Nash) who's sheltering herself inside a doorway.

Verdoux is curious to see if his chemical will work. He befriends this girl, who tells him she was just released from prison.

He invites her back to an apartment he's renting, and offers to make her dinner which she accepts. 

Back at his place, he offers her a glass of wine which he laces with the drug he brewed.

As they chat over their meal, the girl says her husband, who was a helpless invalid, died while she was in jail. He starts feeling pity for her, and claims her wine has some cork floating in it. 

He dumps it out before she consumes any, and gives her a fresh glass.

Little does Verdoux realize that the disappearances of the women he's married have attracted the attention of the police to him. 

Detective Morrow (Charles Evens) visits Verdoux to question him. But Verdoux isn't going to surrender so easily.

I wonder if it was uncomfortable for audiences then to watch a comedy about wealthy women murdered

I think my wife's reaction to the movie sums up Chaplin's role adequately. When I told her what I was watching and what the plot was, she said "Charlie Chaplin as a murderer? Seriously?" 

Chaplin has a way of inserting his true self into his roles, and this movie is no exception.

Watching Monsieur Verdoux now, I can't say this role of his is really that surprising.

Chaplin was married four times, starting with his first wife Mildred Harris. He was 35 when he married his second wife, 15-year old Lita Grey. It caused quite a scandal in the day.

His third wife, Paulette Goddard, was 26 when she married then 47-year old Chaplin. And his fourth wife, Oona O'Neill, was 18 when she married Chaplin who was 54. So, needless to say, he loved younger women. 

Those first three marriages ended in divorce. So, I sense the impression there's some bitter sentiment within Chaplin that comes out in Henri Verdoux. 

In one particular scene where he's having a conversation with the young girl he brings home for supper, he says, "...I love women. But I don't admire them."

When she asks why, he says "Women are of the earth. Realistic. Dominated by physical facts."

"What nonsense," she says.

"Once a women betrays a man, she despises him. In spite of his goodness and position, she will give him up for someone inferior. That someone is more, shall we say 'attractive." 

"How little you know about women."

"You'd be surprised." 

It's all speculation, of course.

Chaplin often depicts his Tramp character in conflict with the system, or the ruling class. This is the comedy behind the Tramp, and goes back a long way. 

As I mentioned in my review of A King in New York, his silent movie The Immigrant has a scene in which the Tramp (i.e. the immigrant) kicks a pushy U.S. Customs Official in the ass. It was a bold scene to film at the time, especially with Chaplin being a foreigner and making a mockery of the U.S. immigration system. 

At the end of Monsieur Verdoux, as he walks his last mile on death row, a priest visits Verdoux to prepare his soul for death. 

"I've come to ask you make your peace with God," the priest says.

"I am at peace with God," Verdoux replies. "My conflict is with man."

Verdoux is a man without a conscience, who lacks peace with other men because, perhaps, they also lack a conscience. All the while, he isn't presented in too villainous a way.

That conflict is the cynicism often seen with the Tramp,  After all, the Tramp has a reason to be wary and cynical of the world around him as it turns a blind eye to him while pushing him around. It carries over into his later films of the 1930s and 1940s, so Monsieur Verdoux shouldn't be any different.

I would love to explore the character of Verdoux much more, especially as he feels justified in his evil ways.

Chaplin is well known for being a humanist who very often took part in various efforts to assist mankind. On film, he very often plays a character doing just that in some way or another. He helps a gypsy girl in the 1916 film The Vagabond. He rescues the small child in The Kid (1921). He helps a poor, blind flower girl regain her sight in City Lights (1931). He helps the gamin start a new life for herself in Modern Times (1936). And he practically preaches a sermon about wanting to help mankind in The Great Dictator (1940).

So, Chaplin throws in "the girl" character whom Verdoux decides to help. Why? Is it to show that Verdoux does actually have some good qualities about him? Is it to entice a little pity for Verdoux, the wife killer? Why should the audience take any sort of pity on him? Being laid-off from a job someone has been at for years can be devastating and emotionally crippling. It's no justification for the middle class to take down the upper class. This is a story about a struggling middle class guy who feels mistreated, and sticks it to the wealthy class all while justifying himself. "These things have to be done" he claims in the movie. It's a common situation in Chaplin movies, and is likely why Monsieur Verdoux was met with a lot of protest and claims of his being un-American. Or, maybe I'm looking too deeply into this, and it's all just a dark comedy.

Kate Cameron of the New York Daily News sums up well how I felt after watching this movie when she wrote, "[Chaplin] has built his comedy on the Bluebeard theme and has tried to make the business of wholesale killing of prosperous, silly, aging women a sly, rib-tickling joke as he postures and poses before the camera.

But the joke, I'm afraid, is on him....Chaplin has attempted, with inconspicuous success, to mix sentiment, slapstick, comedy and horror."

I wonder if it was uncomfortable for audiences then to watch a comedy with Chaplin killing wealthy women. That's where the horror aspect comes in - obviously.

With Monsieur Verdoux, the comical, familiar Tramp persona can't seem to hide. 

In one scene, Verdoux attempts to sneak up and strangle another wife, Annabella (Martha Raye) while they're both alone on a small boat fishing. Each time she looks back at him, he flings one leg over the other and smiles like nothing's happening. It's typical Chaplin.

Cameron from the New York Daily News claims the heavy laughs are really furnished by Martha Raye, and I agree.

The art of Chaplin's comedy and drama is relatability and emotion. His genius is evident in how he captures emotions both in imagery and music. 

Some of his soundtracks are among my favorites, specifically that of The Kid, Modern Times, and The Gold Rush. 

In this movie, much of the humor is subtle. For instance, in the scene following Lydia's murder, Verdoux sets the breakfast table for two. Then... oh, yeah... he remembers he killed her during the night. So, he puts the second setting back. It's those small details that Chaplin is known for. It calls to mind the scene in his earlier movie City Lights where the slam of a limousine door is all it takes to make a blind flower girl think the Tramp is a wealthy individual rather than his actually being the poor little fellow he is.  

I suppose the humor in this dark comedy is that murder is funny when the right people die, and the guilty party is an otherwise gentle and friendly person.

While the captivation in the story is narrow, but present, the movie drags on in its two hour and four minute run time.

As the tagline reads, "Chaplin changes!" In so much as playing a brand new character, then sure. Chaplin changes. Monsieur Verdoux is worth appreciating in that regard, aside from the story itself despite its semi-slow pace. At the same time, even in this black comedy, he can't hide the Tramp, nor the true Charles Chaplin.

A King in New York (1957)

"One of life's minor annoyances is a revolution."

Director

Charlie Chaplin

Cast

Charlie Chaplin - King Shahdov

Dawn Addams - Ann Kay

Oliver Johnston - Ambassador Jaume

Michael Chaplin - Rupert Macabee


Former New York Times film critic Eugene Archer said in his review of Charlie Chaplin's 1957 film A King in New York, "The works of genius are frequently difficult to understand, and the films of Charles Chaplin, operating simultaneously on several levels of meaning, present a critical problem of particular complexity."

For me, this film is a mess of cynicism, satire, frustration, let down and commentary on the social garishness and political obsessions of the U.S. during the 1950s from a jilted comedian.

I wanted to review a Charlie Chaplin film on this blog for sometime, but I couldn't narrow my options down to one. 

As a long time admirer of Charlie Chaplin, and I still am, from his first screen appearance in Making a  Living (1914) to his later films, The Great Dictator (1941), Monsieur Verdoux (1947), and Limelight (1952), A King in New York is a movie I wanted to see for years, but simply hadn't. 

I stumbled upon it on HBO Max recently, and figured it was as good an opportunity as any to finally sit and watch it.

Known for his iconic character, "The Little Tramp," Chaplin was a genius when it comes to story telling. I immensely admire his films City Lights (1931) and Modern Times (1936) particularly. With the latter, I look past the tinge of Marxist overtones to appreciate and admire the innocent, ingenious comedy and romance within.

Chaplin wrote, produced, directed, and scored many of his movies, including this one. 

These two silent movies were made after the advent of talking movies. As Chaplin felt sound would be a passing fad, these films prove he could tell a story with comedy, tragedy, and romance without having to speak. 

But even Chaplin had to keep up with modern times, though he was reluctant to have the Little Tramp speak.

He eventually did, however, in his first full talking film The Great Dictator where he played dual roles. First, he played the Little Tramp for the last time in the role of Jewish barber. Chaplin also played a satirical version of Adolf Hitler. Hence, the movie's title. 

Chaplin was exiled from the United States in 1952. By this time, his innocent "Little Tramp" character, loved by millions worldwide, was involved in a paternity suit. The public began to see an actor straying far from the innocent Tramp to a person who chased young girls and seemed irresponsible.

Above this, his loyalties were in question as this was a time when anti-Communism was at its zenith in America. 

Chaplin opposed the House Un-American Activities Commission as they questioned many notable individuals about their loyalties towards Communism. Attorney General James McGranery didn't take kindly to his opposition and said Chaplin would only be granted a Visa if he could "prove his worth and right to reenter the U.S."

While sailing to his home country of England, the U.S. Government decided to deny Chaplin re-entry.

He ended up residing in Switzerland for the remainder of his years, but did return to the United States in 1972 to receive an Honorary Oscar. Chaplin received a deserved standing ovation that lasted 12 minutes during that ceremony. 

Filmed in the U.K., A King in New York is his first after his exile, and wasn't released in the U.S. until 1972.

In A King in New York, Chaplin plays King Igor Shahdov who flees from his country of Estrovia to New York City after he's deposed from his throne following a revolution.

Once in New York City, the king wants to experience the American way of life. He moves into an upscale hotel room where his Ambassador, Jaume (Oliver Johnston), becomes his personal assistant.

His money situation is meager as his former Prime Minister stole his funds.

Shahdov tries contacting the Atomic Energy Commission with plans for using atomic energy for the sake of creating a utopia.

All the while, the king realizes he can't keep up with the fast paced raucous life in the Big Apple.

Several producers approach him to film commercials for various products, and are willing to pay him handsomely.

He's also invited to a dinner party, but declines the offer until he runs into a gorgeous woman named Ann Kay who's using a shared bathroom between their rooms.

Charlie Chaplin as King Shahdov in A King in New York

In an awkward meeting, the two start talking and she encourages him to attend the party. Of course he agrees knowing she'll be there.

Little does he know the party is a secretly televised program set up by Kay.

Shahdov learns this after the fact and is less than pleased knowing he was tricked to appear on television.

Still, Kay encourages him to accept television offers, and do whatever he can to look good on American T.V., including a little plastic surgery. 

With funds depleted, Shahdov agrees to do a few commercials for payment. 

He's also invited to speak at a progressive boy's school where he meets a 10-year old named Rupert Macabee (played by Chaplin's son, Michael Chaplin), whose mind is wrapped in more political thought than a child's mind should be. 

Macabee lectures Shahdov about freedom and rule in a rather Marxist style. 

The king learns the boy's parents are both Communists jailed for not giving names during a hearing similar to the McCarthy hearings held during this decade. 

Later on, Shahdov finds Macabee aimlessly wondering the snowy streets of the city. 

The kid ended up running away from his school. So, Shahdov takes him up to his room to give the boy food and shelter. 

The king has to step out for a few hours, leaving Macabee behind. 

While he's gone, some officials come to the king's room and Macabee lets them in. 

He tells the officials that Shahdov is his uncle. They grow shocked as soon as this kid starts proselytizing his Marxist ideas. The press catches on to Shahdov affiliating with Macabee, and the king is soon suspected of being Communist himself.

So, Shahdov has to face hearings in front of a panel similar to the real House Committee of Un-American Activities. 

As all this is going on, authorities make Macabee reveal the names that his parents wouldn't tell.

He's presented to the king afterwards to demonstrate what a patriot looks like, but the kid feels heavy with guilt. 

Shahdov invites Macabee and his parents to travel to Europe with him.

"The madness won't go on forever," the king tells a weeping Macabee. "There's no reason for despair." 

To those unfamiliar with Chaplin's life, A King in New York may come across as as a mere cynical picture, convoluted at times, running long at other times, and with a few funny bits here and there.

It's irksome to watch Chaplin, "the king," lecture American leadership about freedom while sympathizing for those adhering to a system that doesn't tolerate opposition in thought and deed - ideas that ultimately oppose freedom.  

In a recorded interview in 2013 Michael Chaplin says there was no proof his father had any ties with Communists or the Communist party. I'm not claiming anything contrary. 

In this movie, Chaplin tries to show American leadership the American optimism surrounding freedom and liberty which he, it seems, thinks the HUAC doesn't share. 

The political aspect of this movie comes out when the king visits the progressive boy's school.

Michael Chaplin as Rupert Macabee 

In the scene where Shahdov first meets Macabee, he finds the boy quietly reading. When asked what he's reading, Macabee responds nonchalantly "Karl Marx."

"Surely you're not a Communist," the king replies.

"Do I have to be a Communist to read Karl Marx?" 

"That's a valid answer," Shahdov says. "Well, if you're not a Communist, what are you?"

"Nothing. I dislike all forms of government." 

"Well, somebody must rule."

Macabee says he doesn't like the word "rule" and begins a tirade about "human dignity destroyed by political power" because it antagonizes the people, and violates their "natural rights." 

He uses the concept of passport regulations to prove his point, wagging his finger with each declaration while speaking mechanically without letting the king get a word in edgewise. The king practically begs him to let him talk.

"And free speech, does that exist?" Macabee asks.

"No, you've got it all!"
I don't know what to make of this scene as there's a lot happening here.  

The encounter is mixed with some slapstick humor as other students play small pranks on Shahdov as he's engaging with Macabee. The entire scene concludes with Shahdov sitting on a cake.

Nothing Macabee dictates really moves the king.

But when we meet Macabee again, he's a hungry pitiful boy stranded out in the freezing cold. And the king then takes sympathy on him.

Macabee later identifies as a Communist because, as he claims, society makes it advantageous not to be one. 

Shahdov later calls Macabee, "the most obnoxious child I ever met, but a genius."

Archer was on to something when he wrote that Chaplin operates simultaneously on several levels of meaning. Complexity indeed!

Based on how the scene plays out, I'm left thinking it's a depiction of where Chaplin stands in the midst of the political climate of his day.

He's not persuaded by Communism but still pities those who are Communist and have been questioned  by the HCUA. Chaplin was a self-described humanitarian, and this sentiment of his popped up before in the speech he gave in The Great Dictator. 

Nevertheless, the satire in the movie's depiction of American life is played out well in this movie. It's where the movie shines the most. Americans of the day were already riled up dancing in the aisles of rock concerts, mesmerized by the glare of movie screens, instantly sold by advertisements, and constantly surrounded by noise of music, media, traffic, and constant chatter. Nothing has changed much since then. 

As far as the story goes, the movie is all over the place, tripping over itself with a drawn out narrative mixed with political commentary, satire, and a taste of silly humor. 

By the third act, A King in New York slows down. The satire is used up in the previous acts. The story begins turning convoluted and long winded. The motivation just feels forced as though Chaplin is chastising the American system of the day, swatting it on the nose with a rolled up newspaper because the system booted him out.

No doubt Chaplin had a lot to say after being kicked out of the nation that helped make him the cultural icon he is to this day. His work is still loved and admired here and abroad.

Fans of Chaplin who take an interest in his life and work are more likely to appreciate this film rather than those who simply aren't interested.  

Chaplin and Dawn Addams (right)

I understand his displeasure. That frustration is depicted in a scene where Shahdov comically sprays a firehose at the House Un-American Activities Commission. Never make enemies with a writer! 

It's not the first time in his career Chaplin used American officials as the punch line of his humor and satire. 

In his 1917 silent movie The Immigrant, Chaplin kicks a rather pushy immigration officer up the backside. A foreigner making a mockery of the American governmental system wasn't taken kindly back then. 

I believe this early scene was later used as evidence to "prove" Chaplin was "anti-American." I am willing to bet all my Chaplin movies that Charlie was anything but anti-American. Far from it.

It was a time though, after all, when American patriotism was high, as it should be. And anti-American sentiment within US borders needed and still needs to be swiftly expelled without a second thought. 

But Chaplin's comedy works in his facial expressions which made me laugh. In the dinner party scene, while he sits next to Kay at the table and flirts with her, she randomly breaks into advertising slogans. 

Shadhov has a confused look on his face as he glances around behind a smiling Kay who's looking towards the camera Shahdhov can't see. 

I still maintain my love and appreciation for Chaplin as an artist. I love satire, but Charlie's satire in this movie is clearly coming from bitterness. Some of is a sort of "a funny thing happened on the way to the House Un-American Activities Commission" scenario. Other times, it's the same kind of humor a jilted boyfriend would make about the girlfriend who dumped him.

My displeasure is where Chaplin depicts his preachy toleration. You can't tolerate everything, even in the name of "humanity." We should respect people. We shouldn't respect nor tolerate their bad ideas. 

This is a movie made from the mind and view of a jilted man, broken over a major rejection after a relationship between himself and the United States that lasted several decades.

To put it in modern terminology, the HCUA in the 1950s was simply trying to cancel Communists because Americans generally don't like people trying to overturn American culture.
While Chaplin seems to support even Communist thought to flow freely like all other thoughts, I have to side with G.K. Chesterton on this one who says "there's a thought that stops thought. That is the only thought that ought to be stopped."