You are all familiar with Charlie Chaplin. Even today, three decades after his death, his Little Tramp persona remains one of the world's most recognizable figures. Chaplin's career spanned a half-century, and the Chaplin myth has been immense, enveloping both film and the world at large. The writer James Agee claimed that "the finest pantomime, the deepest emotion, the richest and most poignant poetry were in Chaplin’s work," while Village Voice film critic Andrew Sarris lauded the comic as "the single most important artist produced by the cinema, certainly its most extraordinary performer, and probably still its most universal icon." But while you don’t need a litany of his artistic accomplishments, you should have at least an overview of Chaplin’s early years.

    Chaplin's youth was right out of Dickens, as it was marked by wretched poverty, hunger, cruelty and loneliness, all of which would become major themes in his silent films. He was born in London in 1889, the second son of struggling artists. His father, a vaudevillian, died young of alcoholism; his mother, a music hall performer who first lost her voice and then her mind, would subsequently spend most of her adult life in mental institutions.

    Charlie and his half-brother, Sydney, were in and out of workhouses, grabbing the occasional job when they could. Then Charlie lived a hand-to-mouth existence as a juvenile actor. At 21, Chaplin came to the U.S. for the first time, as a junior member of a traveling music hall company, the Karno Troupe. One young man, working as an extra for movie director D.W. Griffith, happened to catch a show, and he was particularly impressed with Chaplin's impersonation of a drunk. "If I ever become a big shot," this fellow said, " There's a guy I'll sign up." The young man's name was Mack Sennett. (If any of you have seen Chaplin, Richard Attenborough's earnest but ultimately boring biopic of some years ago, starring Robert Downey, Jr., as Chaplin, this should sound familiar.) During the troupe's second American tour a few years later, Chaplin was signed to a movie contract by Sennett, who had become the head director at Keystone Studios, known for its slapstick comedy, frenetic chase scenes and the Keystone Cops.

    Early on, Sennett told Chaplin to visit the Wardrobe Department and pick out some kind of costume. Chaplin outfitted himself in a tight jacket, baggy pants, big shoes, and a too-small derby. He added a trim moustache to make himself look older and picked up a cane, which he started to twirl. He moved with a gait and manner contrary to his slovenly appearance. Thus, the Little Tramp was born.

    Sennett was delighted with Chaplin's Tramp persona, as was the public. Yet Chaplin didn't stay with Keystone for several reasons. Sennett’s modus operandi was to crank out as many films as possible and to concentrate on farcical circumstances rather than characterizations. Chaplin, though, wanted action motivated through character rather than an exterior force or event. He was in favor of having several camera set-ups per film, while Sennett allowed a maximum of ten set-ups per movie. Chaplin was also interested in moving the camera in closer than Sennett permitted, allowing his costume to function as an extension of his screen character rather than merely a simple jester’s outfit. (Closer shots also enabled audiences to identify with the Little Tramp,  but unless a scene required a sense of pathos -- best expressed in close-ups -- Chaplin still kept the camera in mainly full shots, in order to emphasize his physical comedy.) After leaving Keystone, Chaplin jumped from studio to studio, upping his salary with each change. He eventually gained more power, i.e., creative control, when he was allowed to direct his own films. By the time he joined First National in 1918, Chaplin was one of the wrold's highest paid men, making $1.2 million for eight, two-reel comedies. He was 29 years old.

    The first film Chaplin made for First National was A Dog's Life (1918), which parallels the life of a dog with that of the Tramp. Chaplin later claimed that with each succeeding film, the Little Tramp became more complex. If that is true, we'll see the Tramp at his most sophisticated, as Modern Times proffers the character’s last cinematic incarnation.