TSPDT placing: #48
Directed by: Charles Chaplin
Written by: Charles Chaplin
Starring: Charles Chaplin, Paulette Goddard, Henry Bergman, Tiny Sandford, Chester Conklin, Hank Mann, Stanley Blystone
By 1936, Charles Chaplin was already an anachronism – albeit, an anachronism who was also treasured as an artistic genius. The arrival of The Jazz Singer (1927) did little to curb the director's enthusiasm for silent cinema, and, though he considered at length the commercial implications of converting to synchronised sound, his first film in the "talkie" age was almost completely silent (Chaplin compromised by composing a musical score). Nevertheless, the critical and commercial response to City Lights (1931) was strong, reaffirming Chaplin's status as a cinematic master, and vindicating his decision to linger with an otherwise extinct medium. Thus, Modern Times (1936) was to follow in the same mould, despite a synchronised soundtrack which includes a musical score, sound effects and several lines of spoken dialogue (always spoken through a mechanical "barrier," such as a record-player, radio or loudspeaker). The film is historically significant in that it was Chaplin's first overtly political work, raising concerns inspired both by the economic hardship of the Great Depression, and Chaplin's growing interest in socialism.
The title "Modern Times" is used to deliberate ironic effect. Traditionally, to be modern was to be at the forefront of human progress, a step forwards in Man's noble attempt to assert his dominance over his environment; in short, to further distinguish our species from the lower animals. Yet Chaplin believed that such widespread industrialisation was a step backwards for society. Even from the opening shot, he draws comparisons between the hustling crowds of factory workers travelling to work, and a flock of sheep being herded through a corral. The dehumanisation caused by the workers' monotonous factory work is played for maximum comedic effect, with Chaplin's Tramp eventually driven to a nervous breakdown by Frederick Taylor's apathetic brand of scientific management. In these conditions, direct human interaction is minimal, and almost always channelled through an mechanical mediator. In a scene predating Orwell's "Nineteen-Eighty Four (1949)," Chaplin is reprimanded by a telescreen in the bathroom, the image of his boss looming overhead like the spectre of Big Brother.
Chaplin may also have been remarking upon the rise of the Hollywood studio system, which by then employed a comparable assembly-line approach to film-making. Chaplin, who was given full artistic control through his co-ownership of United Artists, worked in complete opposition to these practices, though it could be argued that his perfectionism and often improvisational style was so inefficient that only an artist as wealthy as he could have gotten away with it. Truth be told, there's nothing particularly distinguished about Chaplin's direction – despite his strong reliance upon actions over words, his silent films were never as visually accomplished as that of Murnau or Lang, for example. However, his greatest talents as a filmmaker were concerned with the plight of people, and, however much sentimentality he liked to dish out, there can be no doubt that, in Chaplin's characters, one found individuals with whom they shared a very real human bond, of empathy and compassion. For all the director's criticism of modern society, he possessed a genuine belief in the value of human spirit.
When Chaplin came under fire for alleged "communist sympathies" in the late 1940s, the content of Modern Times was scrutinised for evidence to support the allegations. Certainly, within the director's distaste for industrialisation one may discern an underlying dissatisfaction with capitalism, but Chaplin was definitely not a communist; after all, a prime motivation in his choosing to continue producing silent films was to retain his commercial popularity in foreign-language markets – that's the capitalist spirit! Nevertheless, Chaplin was eerily prescient when he included a scene in which his Tramp is falsely accused of being a communist, mirroring his own intense political troubles, which concluded in 1952 with the retraction of his US re-entry visa. Though he was initially hesitant about breaking his screen silence, as Chaplin's political convictions grew, so too did his desire to have himself heard. For that, he would, however reluctantly, have to embrace the technology of sound, and, for a mouthpiece, he would choose the most hated man in Europe.
9/10
Currently my #1 film of 1936:
1) Modern Times (Charles Chaplin)
2) After the Thin Man (W.S. Van Dyke)
3) Swing Time (George Stevens)
4) Partie de campagne {A Day in the Country} (Jean Renoir)
5) Follow the Fleet (Mark Sandrich)
6) Sabotage (Alfred Hitchcock)
7) Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (Frank Capra)
8) Secret Agent (Alfred Hitchcock)
9) Intermezzo (Gustaf Molander)
10) My Man Godfrey (Gregory La Cava)
2) After the Thin Man (W.S. Van Dyke)
3) Swing Time (George Stevens)
4) Partie de campagne {A Day in the Country} (Jean Renoir)
5) Follow the Fleet (Mark Sandrich)
6) Sabotage (Alfred Hitchcock)
7) Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (Frank Capra)
8) Secret Agent (Alfred Hitchcock)
9) Intermezzo (Gustaf Molander)
10) My Man Godfrey (Gregory La Cava)
Currently my #10 film from director Charles Chaplin:
What others have said:
Extracts of reviews for other Chaplin pictures:
We first find the Tramp {whom Chaplin liked to call the "little fellow"} at a carnival, completely devoid of money, where a devious pickpocket (Steve Murphy) has stashed his winnings into the Tramp's trouser pocket. As he tries to pickpocket his money back, a policeman catches him, and, completely befuddled, the Tramp finds himself graciously thanking the officer for returning the money that he never knew he had. Needless to say, it doesn't take long before both the Tramp and the pickpocket find themselves frantically fleeing the authorities, and Chaplin takes refuge in a maze of mirrors, where the policemen can certainly see their quarry, but can't decide which of the dozen reflections is real. Following a hot pursuit, the Tramp finds himself scuttling through a circus tent in the middle of a performance, and the audience is left in hysterics by his inadvertently hilarious antics. The The Circus Proprietor (Al Ernest Garcia), desperate for anyone who might save his floundering show, hires the Tramp immediately, but deliberately neglects to inform him that he is the star attraction. 
As was typical in most of Chaplin's pictures, there is also a love interest that forms the story's emotional heart. Merna Kennedy plays one of the circus performers, the ill-treated step-daughter of the show's proprietor. When they first meet, the Tramp scolds the hungered girl for stealing his meagre breakfast, but quickly takes pity on her, and eventually falls in love. Realising that he lacks the means to provide any respectable life for the women he loves, the Tramp graciously surrenders any notions of marrying her, instead convincing Rex (Harry Crocker), a handsome and upright tight-rope walker, to take her hand in marriage. The film's final image, of Chaplin sitting alone in the newly-deserted field where the circus once resided, is almost achingly poignant, a perfect illustration of the lonely lifestyle that he must lead each day. It was Charles Chaplin, in even his early films, who discovered that tragedy and comedy were never too far apart: though The Circus doesn't quite balance the two as evenly as his various masterpieces, such as Modern Times (1936) and The Great Dictator (1940), it remains a joyous slapstick romp, with more than enough heart to go around._01.jpg)
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