One of the indisputable gems of the Essanay series, The Champion is part of, according to a definition dear to Jean Mitry, the ‘parody-ballet’ genre. The tempo that sets the story’s pace is not a narrative one but a dance tempo, a musical and choreographic tempo, which reaches its climax in the boxing ring (the forerunner of the truly superb scene in City Lights) with Chaplin and his costars moving with great fluidity. Going to boxing matches was for years one of Chaplin’s favorite pastimes, as demonstrated by the numerous pictures in his archive of him throwing punches with Benny Leonard, Harry Manswell and Primo Carnera when visiting Chaplin Studios. The opening scene of The Champion is quintessentially Chaplin: we see the Tramp sitting on a step (behind him is the door of a house which he clearly does not live in) and watch him as he pulls out the inevitable sausage from the inside pocket of his jacket, a stale sandwich from his bowler and salt from the breastpocket of his waistcoat. He shares the meal with a rather picky dog that wins him over. The character is perfectly defined both physically (the costume) and emotionally (he is alone, lives by his wits and on the street).

The Little Tramp’s movements always become somewhat of a dance, no matter what the occasion. The more erratic the trajectory, the more precise and regular the mechanics. As in pantomime, the body in movement becomes a form of expression. Running as if in a chase or timid twirls, a drunken gait, or play-boxing, from his relationship with authority to amorous advances, from the effects of alcohol to fear, the Little Tramp’s body in movement expresses the full gamut of feelings, until it finally becomes “autonomous in its abstract form”.

Sam Stourdzé