In his 1936 comedy Modern Times, Charlie Chaplin explores the reality of the American dream amidst the equivocal and seemingly irrevocable presence of capitalism. Chaplin guides his viewers through two mediums of analysis: within the first medium, Chaplin highlights the obvious individuals who construct or constrain a capitalist society—the tired workers; the suited, invasive employers; the incompetent authority figures. Through the second medium, Chaplin unveils the complicated relationship between the individual American and his ultimate dream. Chaplin’s central character, the famed and iconic Little Tramp, observes this post-WWI capitalist society through the eyes of a failed machinist. Eventually, Chaplin drives his Tramp to the point of industrialized insanity. However—and, perhaps unfortunately, for his overtly leftist viewers—the Tramp returns to society, falls in love with an unnamed gamine, and attempts to create his idealized home. The irony that pervades Modern Times is what drives its comedy as well as its complex and contemporary social message. Furthermore, this irony divides Chaplin’s viewers, forcing them to criticize capitalism and then evaluate that criticism. Modern Times evokes a feeling that is truly modern: Chaplin employs certain aural techniques to establish this timeless feel, forcing his audiences before and after the Great Depression to grapple with capitalism.
It’s the Best Years of Your Life ‘They’ Want to Steal:
Within the first moments of Modern Times, Chaplin expertly conveys the indignities that are common in the assembly line. The Tramp—who appears ragged, wearing a dirty shirt, overalls, and a perpetually bemused expression—is selected to test-drive a new invention. This invention is a machine designed to feed workers in a timely manner, forcing them to indulge in extravagant dishes that include, among other edible goods, a murky soup. Chaplin ascetically represents the first medium of analysis—the real face of capitalism—through the Tramp’s employers. Dressed in stark suits (except for the scientists, who appear in lab coats, dragging the machine towards the Tramp), these employers strap the Tramp onto the machine; ultimately, the contraption fails and the Tramp is left with an even more bemused expression and dirtier clothing. Of course, Chaplin delivers his literal and figurative dialogue through his clever use of sound. Upon starting the scene, Chaplin establishes the leitmotifs for each of his characters: the employers are presented with brass instruments that convey a sinister motive while the lighter strings denote the constant question on the Tramp’s face. As the action builds, the score grows, creating a racing narrative that combines authority and submission. This moment is comical yet embarrassing for Chaplin’s working class hero. Though the Tramp has fallen—injured by one threatening piece of frosted cake—the music continues and his workers declare, “It’s no good—it isn’t practical.” The audience is fed Chaplin’s first analysis: capitalism isn’t good, isn’t practical, isn’t justifiable in these modern times.
But You Grow Up and You Calm Down…
After a cocaine-laced stint in jail, the Tramp returns to society, longing to find lucrative means to one idealized end. He meets the gamine and falls in love; he falls in love and imagines a home; he imagines and home and finally constructs his own sense of purpose within the same capitalist society that force fed him. In this idealized home, Chaplin creates a space that is suitable for everything that the Tramp and his gamine desire. Though he is still clumsy, the Tramp also owns a beautiful home, a precious wife, and a fertile life. This world minimizes the industrialized and explores the natural; more importantly, it eliminates the fear of modernity through a fruitful tree and a milking cow. Chaplin expresses these beautiful gains through the lovely, lyrical score that begins upon the Tramp asking, “Can you imagine us in a little home like that?” Chaplin’s irony is still there, however. The same capitalist society that (ostensibly) offers dehumanizing working conditions, shaky class mobility, and hopeless institutions also allows its members to envision, crave, and aspire to progress. Chaplin ponders: does the creativity exist in spite of the capitalism or because of it? These fantastical indulgences are not meant to alleviate the viewer; rather, they are meant to uncover the viewer. Suddenly, the viewer is under investigation as well: like the capitalist society that is contradictory, the viewer too appears to indulge in faulty logic. This moment is comical yet indicative of a serious duality within the critics of capitalism. The audience is lulled, quite covertly, into Chaplin’s second analysis: (perhaps) capitalism allows us to create and dream in these modern times.
Modern Times is an entertaining comedy that continues to cultivate serious, necessary discussion. Chaplin understands that working for the clampdown is not black and white; rather, it is multicolored, just like his score and his characters, forcing his far-reaching public to realize and attempt to reconcile with the fact that capitalism provides room for disdain and pleasure, depravity and security.
A Looking in View... 