February 2nd 1914,
exactly one hundred years ago today saw the launch of one of the most
successful Hollywood careers in history. On
this day a century ago, a twenty-four year old Englishman called Charles
Spencer Chaplin made his screen debut in a one reel Keystone comedy called Making a Living. Eighteen months later
he would arguably become the most famous entertainer on the planet and by his
late twenties he was the richest. Being a man for whom Chaplin has a special
place in my heart, not to mention a permanent inked place on my arm, today is
something special for me and to celebrate I decided to watch his first film
exactly a century after its initial release.
Although I’ve reviewed over forty
of Chaplin’s films in the past two years on this blog, Making a Living was one that I had never seen. In a way I’m glad
that today was the first time I’d seen the short film as there’s something
interesting about seeing it for the very first time exactly a hundred years
after it was first exhibited. Chaplin plays a charming swindler called Edgar
English having not adopted his iconic Tramp costume and persona until his
second film, Kid Auto Races at Venice.
During the thirteen minute runtime, English has frequent run-ins with Henry
Lehrman’s reporter and eventually falls foul of the Keystone Kops, leading to a
chaotic and slightly confusing conclusion.
Although in unfamiliar costume,
Chaplin’s famous creation is easily recognisable in the opening scene. Within
seconds we are treated to the famous cheeky grin and hat raising that would
help to define the Tramp in the months and years to come. Like the early
incarnation of the Tramp, Edgar English is also a little wicked and devious, in
no way the hero of the piece that Chaplin would become by the turn of the
1920s. Not only does he con the reporter for money but later steals ‘his’ girl
and then his camera, claiming a pay day for photos of a car accident.
If I’m honest, Making a Living isn’t a hilarious film
and at times it barely passes for funny but I watched with a huge smile about
my face. There’s the odd moment of slapstick business which still resonates
with ones modern tastes but for the most part you can’t help but wonder what
the 1914 audiences would be laughing at. The final few moments are a mêlée of
kicks, pratfalls, chases and general confusion which isn’t bought to life by
the poor quality print I tracked down amongst my collection of early films.
Where the comedy works is in subtler moments such as the toss of a cane or the
dropping of a shirt cuff. It’s these quieter, more thoughtful pieces of comedy
which Chaplin would concentrate more on as his career progressed. By the time
he reached Mutual in 1916 he had, for the most part, done away with chases and
unnecessary kicks in the behind, and his comedy was much stronger for it.
Despite the comedy occasionally
falling flat on its face, the acting was of a much higher standard than I’d
expected. For me, Chaplin has always been an underrated actor but even here in
his first film, he shows signs of using his face and body in a mature and
understated way (in amongst the leaps and falls) and his face is much more at
ease than many of his co-stars. In the past I’ve been critical of the gurning
exhibited by the likes of Henry Bergman and Mack Swain but here also, Chaplin’s
co-stars are generally much more natural than I expected. Virginia Kirtley in
particular makes good use of her hands and eyes to evoke her emotions. The
acting is not without fault though and many of the bit part players, especially
the Kops show no signs of the subtlety and grace of Chaplin and Kirtley.
Aside from the slightly flimsy
plot and comedy, something which I always like about the very early Chaplin
films is the background. As well as shooting on the Keystone lot, the production
ventures out onto the streets of Los
Angeles. I’m always fascinated by these hundred year
old shots of the city and the film makes good use of the tram network, with the
movie actually ending in a shot reminiscent of a famous scene from Buster Keaton’s
The General. It’s also fascinating to
see large crowds on the sidewalk, watching as the production rolls by. One
scene takes place down a dirty, cobbled alley way which looks even older than
it actually is. As well as the streets of the city, there is a scene in which a
car plummets down a cliff, shot somewhere in the country. It’s quite a stunt
but is unfortunately poorly edited meaning we only see it for a second or two.
A better director would have shown the crash to its fullest extent but thus was
the Keystone way. The picture was directed and edited by Henry Lehrman who
later admitted to deliberately mis-editing certain scenes in spite of his
talented co-star. It was actions like this that lead to Chaplin demanding to
direct his own movies later in the year.
With a century of hindsight, it’s
easy to place Making a Living towards
the bottom of Chaplin’s oeuvre. It isn’t particularly funny and is poorly made
by even the standards of the period. Looking beyond its thirteen minutes
though, one can view it as the beginning of something special. The bare bones
of Chaplin’s Tramp are visible and he steals the movie despite it being his
first outing in front of the camera. Had Chaplin not gone on to be the most
famous movie star in the world, the film would almost certainly be forgotten
but because of who he was and who he still is, Making a Living is a film worth cherishing.
7/10
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