Modern Times was Chaplin’s seventh feature film; he had been directing himself in dozens of comedic short films (one- and two-reelers) since 1914, but had shifted to feature films starting with The Kid in 1921. As a result, by the early 1930s he was one of the most recognized and wealthiest men in the world, and Modern Times was particularly anticipated since he had been absent from the screen for five years. When it was released, the film divided critics and audiences, likely because it was fundamentally a transition film for Chaplin. It marked the last appearance of his indomitable, beloved Little Tramp character, thus marking the end of an era; at the same time, it opened a new epoch in Chaplin’s career as he used it to experiment with synchronized sound, adapting the new technology to his well-worn comedic style, thus creating a kind of hybrid film that is part sound, part silent, both modern and antiquated.

Critics and historians have long argued about the precise meaning of the film’s opening title card: “The story of industry, of individual enterprise--humanity crusading in the pursuit of happiness.” The ideas in Modern Times emerged from Chaplin’s having observed the effects of the worldwide depression during his travels in 1931 and 1932, and it was understandably received as a film with a specific social/political agenda, something that Chaplin had never done outright. The opening title suggests as much, with its references to “industry,” “humanity,” and “happiness,” three pillars of the American dream that were sorely lacking during the Great Depression, and Chaplin visually confirms the film’s social bent with an opening shot that dissolves from similar-looking workers bustling out of a subway station to a herd of sheep. Yet, Chaplin was reluctant to label the film a “social satire” or anything that reeked of a message. As he put it in a 1931 interview during the first stage of his world tour, “I am always suspicious of a picture with a message.”

Yet, Modern Times is clearly a “picture with a message,” built as it is from a series of loosely connected sequences that all revolve around pressing social and economic issues. It was the first film in which Chaplin openly depicted the Great Depression (although homelessness, hunger, and quiet desperation were frequent themes in his films), and he pushed political boundaries with many of the film’s jokes, including one in which the Tramp picks up a flag that fell off the back of a truck and accidentally begins leading a labor march that culminates in his being arrested for being a “communist,” a label that had been applied to Chaplin more than once and would eventually lead to his being expelled from the country in 1952.

The film begins in a massive, almost futuristic factory (we never know what is being produced, which is part of the point) where Chaplin’s Little Tramp (identified in the credits as “A Factor Worker”) is essentially enslaved to the nonstop movement of an assembly line. The film’s most famous bits occur in this opening segment, with Charlie getting drawn into the massive cogs of the machinery and eventually losing his mind from the repetition of his work. Like most of Chaplin’s previous features, the Tramp is given a sidekick of sorts, in this case a homeless teenage girl known as the Gamine (Paulette Goddard, who at the time was Chaplin’s third wife). However, unlike previous sidekicks, the Gamine is very much her own character, as much in control of her destiny as the Tramp (his equal in virtually every since), and she is given appropriate treatment visually and narratively (I don’t think any of Chaplin’s films involve as many close-ups as this one, testament to both Goddard’s rich screen presence and Chaplin’s romantic infatuation with her at the time). The relationship between the Tramp and the Gamine is kept purely plutonic, removing any hint of sexuality and effectively imbuing it with a natural sweetness and innocence that underscores the film’s poignant portrayal of fundamental human desire for personal freedom and interpersonal connection.

Narratively, Modern Times is a step back from the more organically structured story in Chaplin’s previous feature City Lights (1931), although its semi-structured, episodic approach works for the material, allowing Chaplin to engage in all kinds of comedy and social commentary without having to tie it together too neatly. Thus, the Tramp’s disastrous turn at the factory is followed by sojourns in prison, working as a nightwatchman in a department store, returning to the factory as a mechanic’s assistant, and finally working as a waiter in a low-rent café where the Gamine has been hired as a dancing girl. Chaplin works the comedic potential of each situation in different ways, deploying high-energy slapstick humor in the factory while introducing a seemingly death-defying stunt in the department store that is actually a clever combination of camera angles and a glass matte painting. Even though he was encroaching on 50 years of age, Chaplin has never seemed more lithe, limber, and in control of his physical presence, whether he be roller-skating, prat-falling, strapped into an absurd “feeding machine,” or responding to threats with his unique mixture of external submission and behind-the-back defiance.

Of course, the fact that Modern Times uses as much sound as it does deserves mention, if only to illustrate how deftly Chaplin was able to deploy the new technologies while maintaining the purity of his silent art. There are human voices throughout the film, but aside from the scene in which the Tramp sings a nonsensical ditty in the café, all the voices are heard through some kind of mediating technology (an intercom system, a phonograph, etc.). As he had in City Lights, Chaplin used a synchronized soundtrack for the film’s carefully composed and arranged music while also employing strategic sound effects for comedic purpose, which range from the mechanical noises in the factory to the Tramp’s embarrassing flatulence (thus making Modern Times the first film to employ a fart joke). Had the sound stood out too much or dominated the visuals, Modern Times might have felt like a concession. Instead, it is one of Chaplin’s masterpieces, a film of timeless human comedy and social observation that is both firmly rooted in its time and place, yet destined to be universal in its humor and emotional impact.

Copyright ©2010 James Kendrick

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