Review of The Gold Rush (1925) by Daniel S — 15 Jan 2009

Technically, this is the 1942 version that we'll be discussing, the one Chaplin rereleased with narration and a soundtrack--and with shots trimmed to make it tighter. (Also to cut a lengthy kiss with a former mistress, but you know.) At any rate, as I've told you before (see [i]The Hobbit[/i]), I used to go to the library every Friday afternoon and watch movies. [i]Films[/i], shown on a real projector. In those days, I saw a lot of Chaplin, and I have a vague memory of having seen this one. What I cannot remember is if we saw the sound version or the silent version. Well--it was long ago. But I have fond memories of that community room. And, yeah, I've seen a [i]lot[/i] of Chaplin. Laurel and Hardy, too. I suspect the library got 'em cheap.

So yeah. The plot of this seems a little convoluted, but we'll give it a go. Charlie Chaplin is the Lone Prospector; his characters seldom get names. He has gone to what I'm pretty sure is the Yukon to get rich. He ends up in a cabin with Big Jim McKay (Mack Swain), who has made a fabulous gold strike, and Black Larsen (Tom Murray). They're trapped by a blizzard. Things happen. The Lone Prospector famously eats his shoes (more on which anon). When he finally gets into town, he encounters dancehall girl Georgia (Georgia Hale, the mistress in question). She's looking for a good, honest, decent man to Take Her Away From All This, and--as is the case in Chaplin films--she doesn't see the Lone Prospector as, well, a prospect. The famous roll dance occurs. The famous cabin on the edge of the cliff happens. All sorts of hilarity.

So it's well known that Charlie Chaplin was a perfectionist. The classic story about that is, in fact, from this movie, wherein he nearly killed himself, literally, for the perfect shot. The shoes, you see. The shoes were made of licorice, because you sure as hell wouldn't actually make them out of leather. The thing is, though, he took [i]63[/i] takes of eating shoes made of licorice. That's an awful lot of takes--an awful lot of licorice. In fact, and here's where the almost killing himself part comes in, he ended up hospitalized for insulin shock. Because, again, a lot of licorice. Also, he seems to have shot 27 times more film than actually appeared in the movie, which I'm pretty sure was really unusual for those days.

I think I laughed more at Chaplin when I was little. There's some Chaplin that I think I get more out of now--[i]City Lights[/i], [i]The Great Dictator[/i], [i]Modern Times[/i]. But the Chaplin shorts? I just don't get into them as much anymore. I shudder to think how I'll react to Laurel and Hardy, if the library here turns out to have Laurel and Hardy. I was told once that I don't have a sense of humour--really--but I think I have a very different sense of humour than I used to. [i]The Gold Rush[/i] is cute, and bits of it are pretty entertaining. But I remember laughing out loud at these things when I was nine. Why don't I anymore?

Charlie Chaplin got two honorary Oscars, one at the first ceremony and one in 1971. He didn't win a competitive Oscar until 1972, when he rereleased [i]Limelight[/i] with an all-new score. He won for that, which frankly is kind of questionable to me. I'm not sure rereleases should be eligible for Oscars. I suspect the Academy agreed. Then again, I think people in the Academy may have reconsidered whether Jimmy Stewart deserved Best Actor in 1940 for [i]The Philadelphia Story[/i] instead of, oh, Charlie Chaplin for [i]The Great Dictator[/i], which is a much more complex role. Charlie Chaplin was one of the icons of early film. He's still iconic now. The Academy tends to feel guilty about that sort of thing, though often too late to do anything about it.