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Chaplin's gift of hilarity performs well in 'Circus'

"Bring in the funny man."

So cries the crowd under the big top in Charles Chaplin's 1928 silent cinematic sleeper "The Circus." For viewers today looking back with a working knowledge of the filmmaker's career and probably for those who watched the film in 1928, that statement abounds with irony. Calling Chaplin the funny man is like calling Einstein "that smart guy."

The history behind the production of "Circus" is possibly more interesting than the film itself. Following the immense success of "The Gold Rush" in November of 1925, Chaplin announced his plan to decrease the time frame between his pictures and his next project, tentatively titled "The Clown," was slated for release in only six months. Over two years later, "Circus" premiered at the Strand Theater in New York.

Chaplin nearly suffered a breakdown while trying to complete the movie. Hounded by the IRS and the lawyers of his ex-wife Lita Grey, who argued the film's rights should be included in her divorce settlement, the comedian traveled from town to town, editing the picture hastily and secretly. A massive fire that virtually destroyed the set forced Chaplin to cut many scenes and leave the final product much shorter and simpler than expected, leaving a straightforward concept that seems to be carried out effortlessly.

When the film opens, the circus is in despair, the crowds unsatisfied. The unpleasant ringmaster of the show (Al Ernest Garcia) mistreats the animals, berates the clowns, and literally abuses the show's main attraction, a circus rider who happens to be his stepdaughter (Merna Kennedy).

Meanwhile, a tramp (Chaplin), loitering on the outskirts of the spectacle, attracts the attention of the police after a pickpocket deposits a pilfered wallet into the vagabond's trousers. Chaplin's attempts to escape the officers lead him into the middle of the ring, and his antics to elude them bring the crowd to an uproar.

Realizing the little man could be the key to saving his struggling show, the ringmaster offers him a job as a performer. Unfortunately, it quickly becomes apparent that the beggar can't be funny when he tries to. So the circus proprietor hires the tramp as a janitor, making sure he always happens to be around when the performance is taking place.

Soon, the little fellow falls for the circus rider, while the audience falls for him. But his contentment comes crashing to a halt when Rex (assistant director Harry Crocker), a world-renowned tightrope walker arrives on the scene. Slowly, Charlie begins to realize the stepdaughter is in love with Rex and the ringmaster is exploiting him.

What makes Chaplin so wonderful is the tireless work he put into every aspect of his films. The production quality is very simple, despite the fact that producer-director Chaplin, brought in real lions, donkeys, monkeys, and over 500 extras. Chaplin the actor spent over two months learning to walk the high wire. He could have used an extra, but his perfectionism and egotism never would have allowed it.

"Circus" may lack the pathos of Chaplin's later work, but it's every bit as funny. There's never a question of whether a Chaplin film will be entertaining, merely how entertaining will it be.

Chaplin's tramp is an everyman, and we identify with his struggles. Nothing is ever quite resolved for the tramp, but he always continues on, ready for a new day. Given the circumstances of Chaplin's personal life during the production of "Circus," the film's final shot has a whole new meaning.

Chaplin received a special Oscar at the first Academy Awards Ceremony in 1928 for "versatility in writing, producing, directing and starring in 'The Circus.'" He could do so much it's hard to label the artist. Funny man? Yes. Emotional wreck? You bet. Greatest comic mind of the 20th century? Judge for yourself.

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