When I was a kid, I hated slapstick. I was way too sophisticated for the pie in the face, the poke in the eye, the foot in the can of paint. But then one day my family moved to within broadcast range of channel 9 in Chicago. WGN. An independent station serving a large, urban population that apparently loved old movies. Or maybe old movies are all this independent station could afford. Anyway they showed old black and whites often. It was a link to a different time and style of film that was way beyond The Stooges and cartoons featuring a coyote running off the edge of a cliff.
Those old movies introduced me to the kings of physical comedy. Of course you know I mean The Marx Brothers. Who else? In my humble, but truly intelligent opinion, they are the best of all those old-time rowdies. They offer so much more than a piano falling from the second floor onto a hapless bystander. They were fresh and full of surprises, with great wordplay. They were physically dexterous, clever, worldly. In other words: who really knows why I loved these guys. It’s like pornography, I don’t know what makes great slapstick, but I know it when I see it.
During this time, I knew of Charlie Chaplin, but hadn’t seen anything besides the odd clip here or there of this funny-walking little man with a mustache. He didn’t impress me, but then, his full films were unavailable at the time. I suppose this was due to the ban. He was (Gasp!) a commie after all, and he and his films had been shunted off to the cornfield.
Then along came Youtube in our post-paranoid, post-modern times. We are no longer afraid of the red menace. Or maybe it’s just that the wild, wild Internet could care less about politics, and there’s little regulation. Whatever; we are now allowed to peek at the subversive little man’s work. And since I’m no longer in WGN’s broadcast range, Youtube is where I go to feed my addiction to the classics.
Which is how I stumbled across the Chaplin gem entitled “The Pilgrim.” It’s a delightful little film that had me laughing out loud. I rarely do that when I’m alone. Laughter is something you experience with friends. Like tickling or getting drunk. Laughter is a way of communicating with others. It’s like saying, “Did you see that? I mean, did you see that?!” You’re sharing in a way words never can. It’s knee jerk: a reaction to something incomparable, never-before-seen, and truly sublime.
Because it’s better shared, you don’t usually laugh out loud when you’re alone. Something has to be outrageous for that. And there’s this one instance in “The Pilgrim” that is just that.
In this scene, The Tramp (Chaplin’s signature character) is an escaped prisoner posing as a minister. He’s been invited to the home of a fine upstanding parishioner where pious friends and family have gathered. Someone’s child of about 3 or 4 is present and has just discovered how much fun it is to slap adults in the face. He plies his new discovery on everyone in the room. They can’t slap back, of course: he’s a child. And as is typical of exhausted and jaded parents, his mommy is ignoring the situation.
Everyone puts up with the child’s antics. They’re not little love taps either. The kid actually knocks one guy off his seat. Hats and rugs go flying into the air. This child is possibly the most obnoxious one you’ve ever seen. And that’s saying a lot, as children are, by nature, obnoxious.
It reminds me of a dinner party I once attended. One of my friends brought a five-year-old who had the annoying habit of grabbing food off everyone’s plate. She’d use her grubby fingers to take a fistful of green beans or mashed potatoes or whatever, and stuff them in her mouth before moving on to the next guest. Mommy would say, “Sarah, honey, that’s not nice,” and Sarah would laugh. You get the picture: nauseating.
Watching that scene in the Chaplin film was excruciating in the same way that Sarah grabbing my green beans was. It was supremely annoying until, when no one else was looking, Chaplin back-kicked the child across the room. I howled. Applauded even! Of course, I tsk tsked hypocritically. I do not tolerate child abuse under any condition. Still it felt so good to see that kid flying through the air.
Go watch the film. Keep your sanctimonious, sophisticated judgments to yourself and enjoy the schadenfreude. Would love to hear what your favorite scene in the film is. Or any Chaplin film. I’m up for discovery.
Sue Lange, author We, Robots (or where all this AI is going)
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