Charlie Chaplin at the Jeu De Paume
By Lisa Stein PhD

It seemed more than a little ironic that the front door of the Jeu de Paume, the venue of Sam Stourdzé's "Chaplin et les Images" (Chaplin in Pictures) exhibit looks out on Place de la Concorde, just a few short steps from the façade of the Hotel Crillon where Charlie looked down from his position on the first floor balcony at the hoards of adoring Parisians creating a traffic quagmire there in March 1931. Paris and Parisians have been and continue to be kind to Charlie, to hold him in their hearts as well as their minds. This summer in Paris, Charlie Chaplin films were on television every Sunday night, Monsieur Verdoux and The Great Dictator were being shown on the big screen at select MK2 theaters around town and, if you were paying attention, you might have seen him both pictured and quoted in a special exhibit at the Cité des Sciences et de l'Industrie celebrating the 100th anniversary of Einstein's theory of relativity and in an exhibit at the Bibliothèque Nationale de France commemorating Jean-Paul Sartre's 100th birthday, cited as being one of the motivations for Sartre's visit to America in the 1940s.

But the "main event" was and is "Chaplin in Pictures" at the Jeu de Paume until September 18th and then moving on to the Kunsthal in Rotterdam, the Deichtorhallen in Hamburg, and hopefully elsewhere. Although the exhibit is loosely arranged according to Charlie's creative chronology, it's best experienced randomly. What struck me first was how multi-textual Charlie's images are: they're two-dimensional, three-dimensional, photographic, filmic, verbal and visual-to name a few. And while Stourdzé expertly traces the development and evolution of the Chaplin image, his exhibit suggests that this particular goal is almost beside the point. The Little Tramp is not an evolving product that, like a snake, sheds his skin never to pick it up again. The Tramp of Mabel's Busy Day is as important to an understanding of the Tramp in Modern Times or of the character of Verdoux as he is to himself or to the Tramp of the Keystone films alone. These Chaplin images overlap; they engage in dialogue with each other; they infect each other. As you face the wall, for instance, and begin to look at a traditionally framed photo-one you've only seen in books before and so are a little more than excited to see the real thing-you notice that even this image is not "pure." The glass covering the photo reflects the film loop playing just behind you, so as you try to look at Chaplin on the stage in Repairs, the Tramp from Kid Auto Races at Venice walks into the frame, sauntering tenuously up to Lehrman's movie camera. This montage-creating ability of the exhibit design is reinforced by strategically placed display cases that juxtapose magazine covers, postcards and Charlie's own "official" pressbooks from the archives in a simple and effective collage and by a striking display of modernist artistic representations of the Tramp by Fernand Leger, Erwin Blumenfeld and others which show Chaplin's character either exploded into familiar parts and re-assembled or placed newly envisioned in unfamiliar contexts.

Another part of the exhibit continues in this mode. At a station containing three small screens, clips from the Mutuals and a few Keystones are creatively blended to highlight similar movements, strategies and bits of business-all while being infected and effected by one of the few sounds of the exhibit, the soundtrack from City Lights accompanying the boxing scene, being screened just a few feet away. A similar effect is created and expanded upon later in the exhibit, in a large space-both open and enclosed-in which three films are projected on one wall, with first the ending of The Great Dictator and the ending of... well, hopefully, you'll see for yourself.

Not to be forgotten or dismissed in this account is the audience. I think Chaplin himself was always keenly attuned to his audience and so you could say that the audience of this exhibit-you and I and the gaggle of folks crowding around that particular film still from Sunnyside you're just dying to see-are as much a part of the experience as the artifacts themselves. Young and old, male and female, they were all here. Some shuffled around alone or in family groups, others had obviously taken the time to arrange a private guide-led tour. Very few were completely silent and so, this was the true and perhaps intended soundtrack of the exhibit-shuffling feet, voices making themselves heard at all decibels in both conversation and laughter, and the light swish-swish of clothed bodies in motion.

One of the great things about Charlie is that he belongs to everybody and everybody seems to want to possess some part of him, or connect to him in some way. One young boy figured out that he ould "collaborate" with Charlie in a way when he accidentally discovered that his hand had slipped over the lens of a film projector. Soon he began trying new positions, effecting lighter and darker shadowing on the Charlie image-making the films and Charlie his own. This is just one of the freedoms this exhibit allows-a kind of personal connection to Charlie Chaplin that is long overdue.

To access the entire article, please visit the Archives section of the Chaplin Newsletter (www.discoverchaplin.com/newsletter.html) at www.discoverchaplin.com.

This article on Charlie Chaplin reprinted with permission.
Copyright 2005 Discover Chaplin.

The author of this newsletter article, Lisa Stein, is an accomplished Charlie Chaplin collector and scholar who has written extensively and spoken internationally about Chaplin's life and art. She also holds a PhD degree for her studies of Charlie Chaplin. In addition to authoring the Chaplin Newsletter for Discover Charlie Chaplin, Dr. Stein maintains her own website thelittlefellow.org: A Charlie Chaplin Fan Page. Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/?expert=Lisa_Stein_PhD

Ever since the beginning of the cinema, the public was always particularly interested in the leading actors and actresses of these movies. They were called "stars". They had such a public appeal that the success of a certain movie would depend largely on the popularity of the cast. Each "star" in this "star system" was an actor or actress who had his own distinctive qualities. They also had their own famous Hollywood name or image. Others may have their own signature tag lines.

Charlie Chaplin, for example, was called the Little Tramp because he was always in a pair of baggy trousers and wearing a battered Derby hat. Harold Lloyd was known for his horn-rimmed glasses. Buster Keaton always kept a straight face. However, these comedians did not rely on these images the public had of them because they had real talent. Their slapstick and pantomime was a real work of art.

When a certain actor was given a unique role in a film, it became his trademark. One kind of trademark was that of the vampire or commonly known as the "vamp". Theda Bara was the first vamp. She redefined what the public thought vampires looked like. Because of her, a "vamp" meant a sexy, beautiful woman who was fatally attractive to men. Theda Bara was soon followed by another actress called Gloria Swanson who was then eventually replaced by Clara Bow, known as the "It Girl". Each actress was able to create their own brand of vamp.

For men in the film industry, the ultimate symbol of masculine glamour was Rudolph Valentino. This trademark came from his most famous Desert picture entitled The Sheik which was filmed in 1921. Even unattractiveness became glamorized in Hollywood. This was exemplified by Lon Chaney. He was a character actor who played the roles of various monsters and cripples such as in the movie The Phantom of the Opera in 1925 and the Hunchback of Notre Dame in 1923. Drama also had its stars like the Gish sisters, Dorothy and Lillian Gish. They were renowned dramatic actresses. In Western movies, the leading cowboy actors were William S. Hart and Tom Mix.

In love stories, there were no one else but "America's Sweetheart" Mary Pickford and the dashing, debonair and romantic Douglas Fairbanks. Mary Pickford had the perfect image of innocence and purity while Douglas Fairbanks was flawless in his roles as beautifully costumed heroes in the movies Robin Hood in 1922, The Thief of Baghdad in 1924 and The Black Pirate in 1926. The Black Pirate was an exceptional film made using color photography.

As time went by, these epic films were made more frequently and had more startling and imaginative effects. Because of the magnitude of these films it wasn't only the actors and actresses that became famous. The people behind the scenes, like the directors and producers, also became quite known to the public. Cecil B. De Mille was a director who became known as the director of spectacles with biblical themes. The classic movie Ben Hur was made in 1926 and it was the most expensive production made in the era of silent films. It was Frank Niblo's adaptation of a General Lew Wallace novel, Ben Hur, A Tale of the Christ. The movie cost over $400 million. The high point of the movie was an intense chariot race which climaxed in a spectacular accident. In the 1950s, a second version of Ben Hur was made and was equally successful.

Michael Russell Your Independent guide to Movies