January! For many of us it’s the most bone-chilling, gray and lengthy time of the year. Not that I’m complaining, believe it or not. Living in a northern state as I do (I sure wish you could experience Minnesota the way I always have), I’m head over heels for all four of the seasons, even the one with the longest and darkest of nights. There’s no better time to catch up on reading, little projects around the house, and…silent movie watching. (Obviously.)

Might I suggest, for example, exploring the work of the great French comedian Max Linder? If there’s only one thing you need to know about Linder’s significance in film history, it’s that none other than Charlie Chaplin himself referred to him as “the professor.” The diminutive, genial, slightly manic-eyed Frenchman in a silk hat was not only the world’s first major screen comedian, well over a hundred years ago, but he was arguably the very first film star–years before the star system was even in place.

There’s dozens and dozens of Linder films, some more readily available than others, and most running about ten minutes or less. These had clean, simple premises such as “Max teaches the tango” or “Max tries to outsmart a romantic rival,” all cranked out quickly and efficiently. As Linder himself described: “We work from nine in ze morning to four in ze afternoon, and zen–she was fineesh!” Where, you might wonder, should you begin with such a lengthy filmography? Here’s a few suggestions:

6. Max Learns to Skate (Débuts d’un patineur, 1907)

This is an easy choice–none other than the little film that introduced Linder to the world as a screen comedian! Its simple premise is a nice little intro to his style of comedy. As the title implies, Max goes ice skating for the first time and naturally, his enthusiasm about the experience quickly turns sour. Doubtless you can fill in the blanks!

Max Learns to Skate also contains an interesting look at a 1900s French skating rink, where apparently you would check your coat (you being quite warm enough in your customary underthings, shirt, and suit) and someone would assist you in getting on your skates. It’s all quite civilized, I must say.

5. Troubles of a Grass Widower (Vive la vie de garcon, 1908)

After Max and his wife get into a quarrel, the wife storms out and goes home to mother. Initially elated to be on his own, Max soon finds out that his clumsy attempts at chores and cooking don’t measure up to his wife’s skills.

Many 1900s comedies tend to capture the action in long shots, but Grass Widower contains a nice example of the camera getting up close and personal as Max is attempting to cook a chicken dinner. Linder’s dexterity and expressive, yet restrained, performance might remind you of the many comedians who proceeded him–who were certainly inspired by films like this.

Note the scene where Max is trudging home from the market and tries to hide his parcels from a neighbor lady–apparently if the man of the house was seen buying groceries, it was a sure sign of domestic troubles! And do enjoy the charming interiors of Max’s home, quite elaborate for this simple short. Those lovely mouldings and wainscoting were brought to your eyes through the magic of trompe l’oeil painting.

4. Max Takes a Bath (Max prend un bain, 1910)

In this delightful little short Max is suffering from a nervous tick. The doctor recommends he treat it by taking a cold bath everyday, so Max eagerly buys a bathtub, his apartment apparently not being equipped with one. I must say, a beautifully-decorated antique tub like that would command a pretty penny nowadays!

Owning a tub is more of a headache than he expected, however. Not only is it difficult to get home, but where is he going to fill it up? His breezy solutions inadvertently lead to chaos. I love this short, for both its cheery simplicity and for one very funny sequence of Max scuttling along with the tub on his back like a turtle shell. You won’t guess where he manages to go!

3. Max’s Hat (Le chapeau de Max, 1913)

Another entry in the category of “beautifully simple,” I bet practically anyone with a pulse can be charmed by this short. Max, dressed to the nines with a silk hat and all, heads out for the day and his beautiful hat promptly gets damaged. Heading to a nearby shop, he buys a new silk hat–but how long will it last? Ah, and how long will the one after that?

Uncomplicated as the plot may seem to us today, consider how film actually gave Linder more freedom than the stage. He goes from his home, to a taxi, to a hat shop, to a city street, back to the hat shop, and so forth. This would be more complicated and less effective if acted out on a stage. But motion pictures? A big advantage.

2. Max’s Vacation (Les vacances de Max, 1914)

The newly-married Max, who’s mad about his young wife, is invited to take a trip with his uncle–but only “as carefree bachelors,” as the invite reads. Since his wife can’t bear being left behind, he hatches a plan to smuggle her along in his trunk.

This short has survived in lovely quality. Just look at the spiffy automobile that takes the couple to the train station, and that shiny two-level passenger train, and all the pretty French bric-a-brac and antique furniture decorating the interior sets. The plot is a bit more involved than some Linder shorts, the absurdity escalating as steadily as a climb up a hill. Linder’s gestures, timing and expressions just might reminded you of Chaplin, too.

1.Max Speaks English (L’anglais tel que Max le parle, 1914)

Most fittingly, this short is named after its best scene. Max sits next to a charming woman on a train, and they share some mutually interested glances. But when Max attempts to flirt, he discovers that she only speaks English. Not to be defeated so easily, they try gesturing instead. Then Max has the idea of communicating with drawings, much like a game of Pictionary.

This delightful sequence takes up most of the ten-minute short with the remaining time devoted to Max visiting the woman at her workplace, which is a bathroom fixture showroom (there’s at least one hijink that ensues). As a bonus, we also get to see my very favorite shot of the silk-hatted Linder, standing outdoors in a nicely-framed medium shot with the Eiffel Tower looming grandly in the background.

I hope you enjoy watching this little, curated collection of Linder’s work! It’s not for nothing that this endearing, manic-eyed little Frenchman was such a cinema star, back in a time when cinema stardom had barely reached its infancy.

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