The Tramp enters the shot with his back to the camera, going just beyond it at the left. His black silhouette contrasts starkly with the white marble facade of the building he walks along. He stops to pick up something and then moves on with great aplomb. We watch him go into a building. The camera keeps its distance from him as it captures him from the front inside the bank, emphasizing the comic effect of his two rounds about the revolving door (“The small figure of the Tramp in the distance was funnier than he would have been in a close-up” used to say Chaplin). He proceeds confidently, avoiding the backside of a janitor fiddling under a table; he goes down the steps of a grand stairwell to a gigantic vault door that looks like it came out of a H.G. Wells’ novel. With great solemnity, he enters each combination one by one, takes off his jacket and removes the precious contents: a bucket, a rag and a janitor’s uniform. The surprise effect is hilarious. With harmonious sequences, fluid narration, organized according to the three classic sections, and a marked dramatic element (this is a comedy without a happy ending), The Bank won over the last bastion of Chaplinskeptic critics who unanimously recognized being in the presence of a comic genius. Watching The Bank it seems that Chaplin did not just perform the gags but ‘became’ the gag itself, creating a comic effect with the discrepancy between his facial expression and the action of the rest of his body. For example, the solemnity with which he does his work as a janitor and the contrast with his total inability to control the ‘tools of his trade’ (especially the broom). The rivalry between Chaplin and John Rand – which anticipates a similar relationship in The Pawnshop (while the gag of paper being moved from one room to another is reminiscent of ‘the snow plow operation’ in The Gold Rush) –, Chaplin’s mature performance in rendering romantic disappointment and the narrative ploy of the dream that momentarily remedies the inevitability of defeat (social, romantic, etc.) all make The Bank one of the most enjoyable titles of the series.

Chaplinitis, vulgarity, and refining the Tramp: Chaplin at Keystone and Essanay (1914-1915)

The films of Charles Chaplin grew enormously popular in the United States in 1915, just after the filmmaker had moved to Essanay from his first company, Keystone. His fame spread so widely that Charles McGuirk claimed that the nation was suffering a case of “Chaplinitis”. Although it is difficult to pinpoint one reason for this growing fame, it surely was related to the easily identifiable tramp character and costume, the resilient nature of the tramp, Chaplin’s gifted performance style, and the imaginative comic inventiveness of Chaplin the filmmaker. While the tramp was becoming the most acclaimed character in movies, however, some moralists began to complain that the character was vulgar and crude. Evidence suggests that Cha­plin responded to that criticism and began to “refine” the tramp character in some of the later Essanay films and some of his Mutual comedies. This session will focus on Chaplin’s rise to stardom in the Essanay and Mutual periods and will be accompanied by some representative Chaplin films from this era.

Charles Maland, University of Tennessee

Programming Chaplin in 1915

In 1915 ‘Chaplinitis’ came to Britain. New purpose built cinemas had sprung up all over the country but what were they playing and why did Chaplin become so popular just then? How were his films seen? The poorer cinemas, we know, played rereleased packages of Keystone films but the richer cinemas could afford the new Essanay Chaplin comedies on exclusive contracts. These would be screened in a mixed programme with news items, a feature or drama and maybe a live act. In 1915 the Brits were still optimistic about the war but soldiers were beginning to die and the people needed heroes. This programme of films from autumn 1915 may not have been shown together literally on the same night but it is possible and it raise interesting questions about the kind of heroes the audiences wanted – not a superman – but a little fellow, a peoples hero – one who never gave up but modestly soldiered on.

Bryony Dixon, BFI National Archive