Tillie's Punctured Romance (1914)

Director: Mack Sennett

Cast: Marie Dressler, Mabel Normand, Charles Chaplin, Mack Swain

Have I Seen it Before: Never. As big a fan I am of Chaplin, I’m a little surprised about that as well. But this is certainly a different thing, so I think I can be forgiven.

Did I Like It: Not only the first feature length appearance of Chaplin, but the first feature length comedy of any kind, I’m also willing to forgive the Keystone comedy for not quite knowing what to do with something that was supposed to last over an hour. Sennett brings all of his slapstick tricks to bear, but there’s a reason that if you went out onto the street and asked random people if they have heard of any of the people involved in this film, most would say yes to only one name.

I really do believe that if Chaplin had somehow died young and never fully become the Tramp that we know today, it would be impossible to take your eyes away from him in this film. He’s already thinking about what this form can do. He’s unpredictable. He’s dynamic. He’s graceful. Above all else, he’s funnier than anybody else in the movie, and even funnier than the movie itself. There may be moments where he—and everyone—really, feel an inexplicable need to look at the camera and speak so that no one can hear them, but considering a few short years ago the entire cast was performing on Vaudeville stages, this, too, can be forgiven.

You might have a different reaction as the film unfurls. Seeing Chaplin in garb other than that of the Tramp might cause one to dismiss the entire film before realizing that Chaplin didn’t even direct it. But let me offer a perspective that might be only really of use to moviegoers of the 21st century: In my head, this is an origin story. Charlie, the City Slicker here wears clothes that don’t quite fit (it makes him funnier) and eventually acquires a bowler hat. This is an origin story of the Tramp for me. Canonical concerns be damned, but from this moment on the funny little man feels the need to atone for his ways here, leading him all the way through adopting a child,   all the way through having a breakdown in the middle of a factory, all the way through to impersonating the dictator of Tomania.

The Gold Rush (1925)

Director: Charlie Chaplin,

Cast: Charlie Chaplin, Georgia Hale, Mack Swain, Tom Murray

Have I Seen it Before: Oh, sure.

Did I Like It: Once again I’m stuck as I try to review a film featured as a retrospective exhibition with a complete inability to review a film itself, but the need to review the experience of watching it. While this film certainly is mired in the Chaplin’s early impulse to make features with only the loosest of narrative threads, so that it can be a showcase of several short subjects. But between the dance of the dinner rolls and the deliciously demented expression on Mack Swain’s face when he sees the chicken, the film will be viewed and heralded not only long after Chaplin has passed away, but probably long after I am dead, too.

But I had something of a revelation while seeing this film again during one of Circle Cinema’s Second Silent Saturdays. In previous screenings, any reminder that I am relegated to live in the 21st century would eliminate the illusion of the organist that I might actually be taking in this movie in the 1920s. It really annoyed the crap out of me. During this screening, things were going pretty well, but there was a need of several people to comment on what was taking place on the screen.

A typical exchange, in a scene where Big Jim McKay takes a swig of whisky when they return to their cabin in the film’s later scenes:

“What is that?” said Audience Member #1.

“Oh, it’s whiskey,” says their companion. We’ll call them Audience Member #2.

“Well, how did they get that?”

I might have been irritated that they were ruining the movie for everyone—forget the fact that the film’s 1942 re-release has Chaplin providing narration throughout—and being a perfect example of everything that is wrong with film audiences of this stupid, stupid 21st century.

But then I realized in all likelihood there were absolute clods filling movie theaters 100 years ago as well that had to bring some sense to what they were watching and didn’t care who heard it.

So, thanks. Thanks for keeping up the illusion.