A raucous day's work for Charlie Chaplin, who waits tables (poorly) when he isn't absconding to the neighboring roller rink to generate chaos and steal kisses. These two-reel comedies aren't long enough to get much deeper than that, but there's no glaring need to. The spotlight is always, rightfully, on Chaplin's well-orchestrated bits of frenetic energy and fluid pandemonium, a hectic machine-gunning of highly polished comic routines that can adapt to fit the frequent changes of scenery.
In the restaurant, Chaplin bounds wildly between kitchen and dining room, spreading ruin in his wake but always, somehow, skipping out on the punishment. He's more assertive in the rink, sabotaging a rival in pursuit of a pretty girl while showing off his premier skill on a pair of skates. That particular aspect is the short's most striking attribute, a brilliant display of mastery that's just as remarkable in a 1916 film as it would be, twenty years later, in Modern Times.
The Rink may be slapstick through and through - lots of accelerated head-over-heel spills and broken plates - but it's efficient, crafty, and takes great care not to repeat itself. Silly and shallow, perhaps, but also highly entertaining.
