We like to think that comedy has evolved since the time of silent film. We like to think that with the advent of sound and the injection of modern technology in all aspects of film production has made just about everything better. Indeed, it's hard to argue that so much of today's fun and farce just can't exist without a sound mixer and a few boom mics laying around. Ask yourself, if you put The 40-Year-Old Virgin (2005) or The Hangover (2009) on mute, would you really get anything out of it?
By 1936, sound had long taken the film industry by storm. In fact, if you listen closely to the moment Al Jolson uttered "You ain't heard nothing' yet," in The Jazz Singer (1927), you may have heard the careers of many shattering in earnest. Never has there been a piece of technology so seamlessly adapted to an industry before or since. To name the number of noteworthy films made after 1929 that were silent would be to name perhaps a dozen.
Yet with this adoption came growing pains. The cumbersome size of the Photokinema sound-on-disc machines and their components meant cameras had to stay bolted down. Actors had to not wonder too far from the mic or worse still, find a way to wear several pounds of bulky microphones under their garments. What once were dreams, stitched together by editing cuts became pale imitations of stage plays. The grammar of film essentially took two steps back.
Seeing this, silent era superstar Charlie Chaplin decided to stem the tide. In 1931, he directed, produced and starred in City Lights, a romantic masterpiece of stagecraft and pantomime that to this day is one of the best examples of the beauty we lost. Seeing the writing on the wall by 1936, Chaplin decided to give the Tramp one last hurrah before retiring the character. One last bow before the tendrils of technology transforms his career into a shadow of its former self.
Modern Times is at once one last bow, one last look at innocence lost and one glorious masterpiece of cinema. In it, Charlie's lovable Tramp struggles to adapt to a modern technological age while causing light-hearted mayhem everywhere he goes. Throughout the film he tries to conform to working as a security guard, a longshoreman, a factory worker, a mechanic etc. yet his peculiarity prevents him from being at a work site for too long. During his struggles he befriends an woman named Ellen (Goddard) who aids him in his quest for fulfilling work. They of course, fall in love in the chaste innocent way that couples did in the films of the time.
Modern Times is infamous, for among other things, a soundtrack that includes the earworm "Smile" composed by Chaplin himself. The most famous cover was crooned by Nat King Cole whose astringent voice had the poorly covered scars of a life harshly lived. "Smile" to Modern Times is perfect; both as a bittersweet anthem and as addition to the American songbook. It perfectly captures the Tramp's uneasy monachopsis while hanging onto a buoyant hope of finding purpose. It's at times sad, at times triumphant but always life-affirming.
Modern Times is also known for large, unique and detail filled comic set-pieces that despite being around for eighty years still coaxes laughter. One after another, these moments capture the absurdities of industrial life no other film does. Whether it be Chaplin toiling over a conveyor belt of widgets or literally being engulfed by a mechanical do-dad, He always has the perfect expression to reaffirm his humanity in the most inhuman of situations. It's pitch-perfect pantomime done by a true master of the craft.
Of course, being the film advertised as "the one where The Tramp speaks," Modern Times does succumb to the encroachment of sound. And unlike in City Lights, Chaplin decides to inject it as part of a large theme as opposed to a target of mockery. The film is book- ended by two moments of sound, the first of which is his factory boss yelling at him through a large projected screen. "Get back to work!" he yells while the Tramp struggles to find a moment of respite. The inclusion of sound as an oppressor, even a personified one is an effective means of identification. Those who have heard the phrase "If you have time to lean, you have time to clean," will no doubt sympathize with Chaplin's character in that particular moment in time.
The second time sound is used, is to affirm Chaplin's Tramp as a unique individual amid a crowd of onlookers. Late in the film, Ellen finds a job for the Tramp at a restaurant as a singing waiter. Right before his debut, he struggles to remember the words of the song he's to sing. He decides to put the lyrics on his detachable cuffs. Invariably, he looses the cuffs and, thinking quickly, begins to sing in gibberish. It's a prank pulled on audiences clamoring for the Tramp to finally speak on screen, yet it's one that's so incongruously Chaplin that one can't help but admire it.
With Chaplin having a hand in every aspect of the film's production, one can write an entire book fawning over the exploits of a genius so ahead of his time, we still feel his influence. Modern Times showcases that genius, filling the celluloid with beauty, pathos, humor and humanity. Years after most of today's contemporary comedies fade into obscurity, those centuries from now will still fondly remember Charlie and his lovable Tramp. I guarantee it.
