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Chaplin
An Everyman who expressed the defiant spirit of freedom, Charlie Chaplin was first lauded and later reviled in the America that made him Hollywood’s richest man. He was a figure of multiple paradoxes. Simon Louvish's new book, following his five major biographies of comedy's classic stars, from W.C. Fields to Laurel and Hardy and Mae West, looks afresh at the "mask behind the man." Louvish charts the tale of the Tramp himself through his films, from the early Mack Sennett shorts through the major features ( The Gold Rush , City Lights , Modern Times , The Great Dictator, et al.). He retrieves Chaplin as the iconic London street kid who carried the "surreal" antics of early British music hall triumphantly onto the Hollywood screen. Louvish also looks anew at Chaplin's and the Tramp's social and political ideas--the challenge to fascism, defiance of the McCarthyite witch hunts, eventual "exile," and last mature disguises as the serial killer Monsieur Verdoux and the dying English clown Calvero in Limelight . This book is an epic journey, summing up the roots of comedy and its appeal to audiences everywhere, who reveled in the clown's raw energy, his ceaseless struggle against adversity, and his capacity to represent our own fears, foibles, dreams, inner demons and hopes.
- GenresBiographyNonfictionFilm
432 pages, Hardcover
First published November 1, 2008
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113 people want to read
About the author
Simon Louvish
25 books10 followersSimon Louvish (born 1947 in Scotland) is an Israeli author and film maker. He has written many books about Avram Blok, a fictional Israeli caught up between wars, espionage, prophets, revolutions, loves, and a few near apocalypses.
He has also written biographies of W. C. Fields, The Marx Brothers, Groucho Marx, Laurel and Hardy, and Mack Sennett.
He has also written biographies of W. C. Fields, The Marx Brothers, Groucho Marx, Laurel and Hardy, and Mack Sennett.
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
June 3, 2017
Lovers of classic comedy and show biz biography undoubtedly know the name Simon Louvish. In recent years, the Scottish-Israeli film scholar has penned colorful, interesting books about W.C. Fields, the Marx Brothers, Mae West, Mack Sennett, and Laurel and Hardy. In Chaplin: The Tramp’s Odyssey he tackles the granddaddy of them all, providing his own quirky insight into one of the 20th century’s greatest enigmas.
As Louvish wisely points out in his prologue, there are probably already a hundred books on this juicy subject You can read my own biographical essay here.). Yet still the author has managed to carve out a niche for himself, mostly by presenting the most up-to-date scholarship on the topic, and by structuring his book playfully, as a sort of marathon Charlie Chaplin film festival starring the Tramp himself. Chapter headings are named after Chaplin’s key films, the themes of which are connected to events in Chaplin’s own life. Most significantly, he makes the touchstone of the book the greatest crisis of Chaplin’s adult life, and one of the most unfathomable events of (if you’ll excuse the expression) modern times: Chaplin’s 1952 exile from a land where he had been universally beloved only a decade before.
It would be hard to exaggerate the scale of Chaplin’s fall from grace. In his heyday he had been the highest paid man in America, the co-owner of his own movie studio, an icon, a toy, a comic strip. His Q factor was second only to Santa Clause. As Louvish mentions in one of the book’s more arresting sections, Chaplin actually enjoyed a following in the jungles of Africa – in a time not so long after Stanley first bumped into Livingston. An intimate of Shaw, Wells and Einstein, Chaplin was as close to a God as it is for a mortal man to get without actually commanding an army. But mortal is the key word. After one too many scandals involving girls half his age, and a rather foolish propensity to speak too generously about America’s Cold War enemies, Chaplin was given the “heave ho” by some grand-standing No Nothings, and the public betrayed him with a speed that would astound Timon of Athens. He spent the next 25 years in exile in Switzerland – a deposed king not so very unlike Napoleon in St. Helena, a subject about which he’d once wanted to make a film.
With the benefit of hindsight, it becomes easier to see why this unthinkable event happened. Yes, America loves the Little Guy. It also loves the Self-Made Man. But by the time of Monsieur Verdoux, Chaplin had ceased playing the former, and seemed to be denying the right of his fellow citizens to join him in becoming the latter. When a child of grinding poverty in Europe becomes one of the wealthiest inhabitants in America, and then implies that her ideological enemy has the better system, it should at the very least not be surprising that the public reply becomes “don’t let the door bang you in the ass on your way out”. On the other hand, it is surely no coincidence that Chaplin’s detractors tended to be morons who showed no evidence of comprehending the Constitution or its Bill of Rights, the very instruments that made the American system superior to the communist one in the first place. These documents, when honored, were supposed to guarantee Chaplin’s freedom not only to make his fortune here, but to say whatever damn-fool idealistic notion came into his head. Otherwise, America may as well be Russia. Call him any names you like. But kick him out for his beliefs, and (to adapt a handy modern phrase) the communists will already have won.
But don’t be deceived. This political angle is really just the book’s eloquent framing device. Louvish is writing about a comedian after all. Much intelligent analysis is given to the content of the films, including thorough descriptions of their plots, for those who don’t know them. Strung together as they are in Louvish’s book, the chapters of Chaplin’s life spool together like the reels in a film. The trajectory of his life, occurring as it did in numerous discrete, definable steps, makes for an exceptionally coherent narrative arc even under the worst of circumstances. His Dickensian childhood, his apprenticeship with Karno, his stint as first among equals at Keystone, the breakout at Essanay, the formal brilliance of his Mutual period, the full flowering at First National, the masterpieces for United Artists, the talkies, and then the political and personal problems that brought him down. Weaving through it all, like a naïf on a fairy tale journey, is the character of the Tramp, far from Chaplin’s only creation, but the one that public clamor constantly demanded he return to.
As always, Louvish is smart, passionate and writes with clarity. Sometimes, he is almost too smart. A spirit of “gotcha” pervades his books. He’ll catch his subjects in some inaccuracy and match it against a documented truth he has uncovered elsewhere, often a date or some other salient detail, and then follow it with an (often literal) crow of “aha!” While correct facts are obviously necessary to the progress of knowledge, I frankly find Louvish’s attitude of triumphalism a bit illogical, even perplexing. Do entertainers often lie in the course of building their myths? Of course – public relations is, after all, the Siamese twin of show business. No revelation there. But just as importantly, and just as frequently, the actors themselves are not lying at all. They are people who have led extremely busy lives, often advanced in age when they slow down to pen their memoirs. Lapses in memory can often attain proportions appalling to their devoted fans, who revel in memorizing every minute fact of their heroes’ lives and careers. Think of George Harrison in the 1995 Beatles documentary, not remembering if a certain song was on Rubber Soul or Revolver. Inconceivable! Woody Allen claims not to have seen most of his own films since they first premiered in theatres. To my mind, it’s crazy to even bother citing the artists or their intimates as sources in such cases, except where the occasional example may reveal some particular illuminating truth. With Louvish, spotting the uttered untruths is a kind of bloodsport, often taken to absurd degrees. When writing about one of Chaplin’s many child-brides Joan Berry, Louvish writes “Note that press and FBI records consistently spelled her name as ‘Berry’”. Why? Why should we take any note of that at all? It speaks volumes about Louvish’s abilities as a fact-checker, but little if anything about Charlie Chaplin.
But these are nutshells in an otherwise tasty cake. While some of the notes on the dust jacket give the impression this book is for Chaplin aficionados only, my feeling is that it’s detailed descriptions of the films themselves (for those who don’t know them) ought to widen its appeal. Call me a Pollyanna, but who doesn’t want to know more about Charlie Chaplin?
As Louvish wisely points out in his prologue, there are probably already a hundred books on this juicy subject You can read my own biographical essay here.). Yet still the author has managed to carve out a niche for himself, mostly by presenting the most up-to-date scholarship on the topic, and by structuring his book playfully, as a sort of marathon Charlie Chaplin film festival starring the Tramp himself. Chapter headings are named after Chaplin’s key films, the themes of which are connected to events in Chaplin’s own life. Most significantly, he makes the touchstone of the book the greatest crisis of Chaplin’s adult life, and one of the most unfathomable events of (if you’ll excuse the expression) modern times: Chaplin’s 1952 exile from a land where he had been universally beloved only a decade before.
It would be hard to exaggerate the scale of Chaplin’s fall from grace. In his heyday he had been the highest paid man in America, the co-owner of his own movie studio, an icon, a toy, a comic strip. His Q factor was second only to Santa Clause. As Louvish mentions in one of the book’s more arresting sections, Chaplin actually enjoyed a following in the jungles of Africa – in a time not so long after Stanley first bumped into Livingston. An intimate of Shaw, Wells and Einstein, Chaplin was as close to a God as it is for a mortal man to get without actually commanding an army. But mortal is the key word. After one too many scandals involving girls half his age, and a rather foolish propensity to speak too generously about America’s Cold War enemies, Chaplin was given the “heave ho” by some grand-standing No Nothings, and the public betrayed him with a speed that would astound Timon of Athens. He spent the next 25 years in exile in Switzerland – a deposed king not so very unlike Napoleon in St. Helena, a subject about which he’d once wanted to make a film.
With the benefit of hindsight, it becomes easier to see why this unthinkable event happened. Yes, America loves the Little Guy. It also loves the Self-Made Man. But by the time of Monsieur Verdoux, Chaplin had ceased playing the former, and seemed to be denying the right of his fellow citizens to join him in becoming the latter. When a child of grinding poverty in Europe becomes one of the wealthiest inhabitants in America, and then implies that her ideological enemy has the better system, it should at the very least not be surprising that the public reply becomes “don’t let the door bang you in the ass on your way out”. On the other hand, it is surely no coincidence that Chaplin’s detractors tended to be morons who showed no evidence of comprehending the Constitution or its Bill of Rights, the very instruments that made the American system superior to the communist one in the first place. These documents, when honored, were supposed to guarantee Chaplin’s freedom not only to make his fortune here, but to say whatever damn-fool idealistic notion came into his head. Otherwise, America may as well be Russia. Call him any names you like. But kick him out for his beliefs, and (to adapt a handy modern phrase) the communists will already have won.
But don’t be deceived. This political angle is really just the book’s eloquent framing device. Louvish is writing about a comedian after all. Much intelligent analysis is given to the content of the films, including thorough descriptions of their plots, for those who don’t know them. Strung together as they are in Louvish’s book, the chapters of Chaplin’s life spool together like the reels in a film. The trajectory of his life, occurring as it did in numerous discrete, definable steps, makes for an exceptionally coherent narrative arc even under the worst of circumstances. His Dickensian childhood, his apprenticeship with Karno, his stint as first among equals at Keystone, the breakout at Essanay, the formal brilliance of his Mutual period, the full flowering at First National, the masterpieces for United Artists, the talkies, and then the political and personal problems that brought him down. Weaving through it all, like a naïf on a fairy tale journey, is the character of the Tramp, far from Chaplin’s only creation, but the one that public clamor constantly demanded he return to.
As always, Louvish is smart, passionate and writes with clarity. Sometimes, he is almost too smart. A spirit of “gotcha” pervades his books. He’ll catch his subjects in some inaccuracy and match it against a documented truth he has uncovered elsewhere, often a date or some other salient detail, and then follow it with an (often literal) crow of “aha!” While correct facts are obviously necessary to the progress of knowledge, I frankly find Louvish’s attitude of triumphalism a bit illogical, even perplexing. Do entertainers often lie in the course of building their myths? Of course – public relations is, after all, the Siamese twin of show business. No revelation there. But just as importantly, and just as frequently, the actors themselves are not lying at all. They are people who have led extremely busy lives, often advanced in age when they slow down to pen their memoirs. Lapses in memory can often attain proportions appalling to their devoted fans, who revel in memorizing every minute fact of their heroes’ lives and careers. Think of George Harrison in the 1995 Beatles documentary, not remembering if a certain song was on Rubber Soul or Revolver. Inconceivable! Woody Allen claims not to have seen most of his own films since they first premiered in theatres. To my mind, it’s crazy to even bother citing the artists or their intimates as sources in such cases, except where the occasional example may reveal some particular illuminating truth. With Louvish, spotting the uttered untruths is a kind of bloodsport, often taken to absurd degrees. When writing about one of Chaplin’s many child-brides Joan Berry, Louvish writes “Note that press and FBI records consistently spelled her name as ‘Berry’”. Why? Why should we take any note of that at all? It speaks volumes about Louvish’s abilities as a fact-checker, but little if anything about Charlie Chaplin.
But these are nutshells in an otherwise tasty cake. While some of the notes on the dust jacket give the impression this book is for Chaplin aficionados only, my feeling is that it’s detailed descriptions of the films themselves (for those who don’t know them) ought to widen its appeal. Call me a Pollyanna, but who doesn’t want to know more about Charlie Chaplin?
October 2, 2009
Even if you have never seen a Chaplin movie, you know Chaplin's Tramp. The Little Fellow with the cane, bowler hat, mistache and little swagger. But the silent era of film is quickly turning into the forgotten era. Trying to find books and biographies is not that simple, expect Chaplin's famous 'My Autobiography' which I think is on my TBR list.
This is a biography more on the 'Tramp' than Chaplin. Looking at how he was created, how he changed and what he represented. Not the perfect account of the "Little Fellow". Mainly because Louvish likes to quote his other works and seems to be over reliant on secondary texts. But it is interesting, though annoyingly Louvish gives you only quick glimpses of others such as Fatty Arbuckle, Mable Normand, Mack Sennet, Buster Keaten, W.C Fields, the Maxx brothers and Laurel and Hardy, then quickly going on to the next subject with only your pallet tasted for these interesting people. But this is a bio on the Tramp, though Laurel kept popping up mainly because he was a Chaplin impersonator early in his career. I get the feeling Louvish was showing off a little, considering he has also written books about the above.
Even though this was interesting the writing was dry, and had too many long quotes, and I found myself skimming over long discritpions of plot lines that never made it in to the final movie. Still I would recommend this if you like Chaplin, or even if only you know the images, and some of the jokes, and you will. One of my favourite cartoon staples was of a starving character seeing his companion as a large pork chop - originally from "Gold Rush".
This is a biography more on the 'Tramp' than Chaplin. Looking at how he was created, how he changed and what he represented. Not the perfect account of the "Little Fellow". Mainly because Louvish likes to quote his other works and seems to be over reliant on secondary texts. But it is interesting, though annoyingly Louvish gives you only quick glimpses of others such as Fatty Arbuckle, Mable Normand, Mack Sennet, Buster Keaten, W.C Fields, the Maxx brothers and Laurel and Hardy, then quickly going on to the next subject with only your pallet tasted for these interesting people. But this is a bio on the Tramp, though Laurel kept popping up mainly because he was a Chaplin impersonator early in his career. I get the feeling Louvish was showing off a little, considering he has also written books about the above.
Even though this was interesting the writing was dry, and had too many long quotes, and I found myself skimming over long discritpions of plot lines that never made it in to the final movie. Still I would recommend this if you like Chaplin, or even if only you know the images, and some of the jokes, and you will. One of my favourite cartoon staples was of a starving character seeing his companion as a large pork chop - originally from "Gold Rush".
May 10, 2019
Interesting contrast to Vera Brittain’s “Testament of Youth. Both born at a similar time but in different classes. How WWW I shaped their philosophies. How the Red Scare and the negative press changed Chaplin’s fame in the US. Loved his quote — ‘kinetic invasion of the twentieth century’ which he deplored but was responsible for his fame and wealth.
July 13, 2020
I didn't realise this really was a book about Chaplin's films, less about his life in general. If you are a film buff and a fan of Chaplin's films, this is a book for you.
January 7, 2011
This is a well written and informative book, tracing the development of Chaplin's Tramp everyman pesona, from his roots in the poorhouse in South London (his mother was mentally ill and his father died of alcholism at 39), through the Fred Karno vaudeville circuit, then to Max Sennett's studio, before he developed into the lovable Tramp persona, becoming the most famous man in the world in the process. Louvish writes with great authority about the early days of Chaplin in vaudeville and silent films, and with insight about many of Chaplin's features (not uncritically either), but he seems ambivalent about Chaplin the man. Famously hounded out of the country for his allegedly 'communist' leanings in the McCarthyite 50s (i.e. supporting Russia in the war, like the US government did in fact, and being interested in the common man, etc), Chaplin's sexual peccadillos seem to have been more offensive to many in his adopted country (favouring very young girls), Louvish makes clear that CC was a humanist liberal at best (or worst), as evidenced by his cringemakingly mawkish speech at the end of The Great Dictator, with no real Marxist leanings at all; he was, rather, more influenced by Ghandi and his reading of philosophers, and a sentimental feeling for the 'man in the street' (those whom he would see occasionally when they flocked to see him at film premieres).
February 7, 2013
Someone who might be interested in this book is Chaplin fans, movie producers, someone looking for a good laugh. As I myself am a huge silent film fan and someone who loves Chaplin, I would recommend it to people who feel the same way, also movie producers; to see how one can make a film with so little and be as successful as most people will ever be. As for the people who want a good laugh, this is the book for you. Chaplin was a comedian, he made things funny. The things that he does will make you sit back and really smile. As my overall satisfaction I gave this book a 4/5. As much as I loved this book, since I am a huge fan, some parts of it sort of dragged. I feel as if he included some detail that wasn’t fully necessary. But, with my great interest in Chaplin’s life I feel as if this fully explained it well enough for me to learn and know more about my favorite comedian.
September 22, 2012
This was a very interesting study of Chaplin's career that covered not only his filmmaking but also the development of his thought as he traveled around the globe and met people from different walks of life. This is one of the few books that I've read that take Chaplin's ideas (and how he came up with them) seriously instead of saying "and then he got a big head."
Louvish's judgments on Chaplin's films strike me as very sound. He pays attention to "The Circus" and "Monsieur Verdoux," which have been underrated in recent years.
All in all, a very useful and enjoyable book.
Louvish's judgments on Chaplin's films strike me as very sound. He pays attention to "The Circus" and "Monsieur Verdoux," which have been underrated in recent years.
All in all, a very useful and enjoyable book.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews