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The Gold
Rush
and The General
by
Karl Bowman
Rather than
pacing the Blockbuster Video aisles searching for the least offensive
release, delving into film history is a good way to find wholesome
material and broaden our entertainment horizons. Crack open any
video rental guide, go straight to the five star movies, and you
may be surprised at how many great movies you have never seen. This
review focuses on two gems from the pioneer days of cinema: Charlie
Chaplin's 1925 film The Gold Rush and Buster Keaton's 1927
film The General.
THE
GOLD RUSH
It's 1898. The Klondike Gold Rush is on and amateur prospectors
are coming to Alaska in droves for a chance to strike it rich. "Three
days from anywhere," a Lone Prospector a.k.a. the Little Tramp (Charlie
Chaplin), makes his way into the hostile land, taking refuge in
a cabin with a wanted criminal, Black Larsen (Tom Murray), and a
lucky prospector, Big Jim McKay (Mack Swain). When the blizzards
finally subside, the Tramp goes into town where he falls in love
with Georgia (Georgia Hale), a beautiful dance-hall girl. She doesn't
see anything of interest in the shy prospector, but with little
else than his wits, the Tramp sets out to win her heart.
The Gold
Rush is one of Chaplin's most enduring comedies, both for its
scope and for its original comedy sequences. He takes his fragile
Little Tramp, plants him in the most alien terrain he can find,
and milks the resulting situations for all they're worth. From the
first moments, the Tramp's trademark amble is put to good use as
he teeters on icy precipices, unknowingly followed by a giant bear.
It is fascinating
to watch how Chaplin uses the tiny, restricted cabin as the inspiration
for complex visual gags. The intimidating Black Larsen refuses to
share the cabin, but every time he opens the door to kick the Tramp
out, fierce winds blow him back inside! The Tramp just shrugs as
if a higher power wills that he stay in the cabin. Later, when Big
Jim struggles with Larsen, they fight over a loaded rifle that constantly
points straight at the Tramp no matter where he moves. A well-known
sequence involves the cabin being blown halfway off the edge of
a cliff during the night. When Big Jim and the Tramp awaken, they
trudge through their morning rituals with no clue to the danger.
Chaplin plays with our expectations as he carefully choreographs
the character's movements to balance out the cabin. But when both
characters end up on the wrong side, the cabin tips dangerously
and the characters just can't figure it out! Only when the Tramp
opens the wrong door do they realize the awful truth and climb all
over each other (literally) to get to safety. Even with special
effects that are over 75 years old, this is a convincing and thrilling
sequence.
Other classic
scenes derive from the characters' lack of food. On Thanksgiving,
still trapped in the cabin, the Tramp cooks up his own boot to share
with Big Jim. As Jim watches in disbelief, the Tramp carefully eats
the leather sole and shoelaces as if they were the finest delicacy.
Days later, Big Jim begins to hallucinate, imagining the poor Tramp
as a large, feathered chicken. This imagery may seem cliche, but
when we realize that this could be the first time the device was
used, we begin to appreciate Chaplin's talent a little more.
Chaplin is not
all about slapstick comedy, though. His jokes are always constructed
around a serious social and/or emotional concern. Georgia is in
a different social circle than our lowly hero and she treats him
rather rudely. In a final effort to win her affection, the Tramp
sets up a magnificent New Year's Eve dinner for her and her friends
(with another man's property, of course). Georgia promises to come,
but as the hour grows late, the Tramp falls asleep at the table.
In his dreams, he imagines himself as a huge success with the dinner.
The girls laugh, enjoy themselves, and ask him for a speech. Instead,
he picks up two dinner rolls and performs a dance with them (yet
another classic scene) to everyone's delight. When the Tramp awakes,
he realizes that Georgia is not, and was never, coming. With a heavy
look at the table he has painstakingly prepared, Chaplin makes us
feel like bawling. Just as he pushes comic gags to the extreme,
he is not afraid to yank our heartstrings. This ability to swing
the viewer from crazy laughter to bitter tears is another testament
to Chaplin's genius. No words are necessary.
THE
GENERAL
When the Civil War breaks out, railroad engineer Johnnie
Gray (Buster Keaton) hurries to enlist in order to impress his sweetheart,
Annabelle Lee (Marion Mack). He is turned away because he is more
useful to the South as an engineer. Of course, no one bothers to
tell Johnny the reason, and Annabelle and her family consider him
a disgrace. But when his train, The General, is stolen
with Annabelle inside, Johnnie bravely goes behind enemy lines to
rescue both of his loves.
Like The
Gold Rush, this story is based on a true event. Keaton retains
the basic skeleton of "The Great Locomotive Chase," but fleshes
out the story with his own brand of humor. Keaton's trademark is
his "Great Stoneface." By maintaining a deadpan expression no matter
what ludicrous events happen, we strangely identify with his character
and root for his success. However blank his face, we can somehow
read the exact thoughts behind his eyes and body language. For example,
after Johnnie loses the respect of his sweetheart, he sits on the
crossbar that runs between the large train wheels. He stares at
the ground, with his hands held in his lap, a dejected man. In the
background, we see the assistant engineer get in the engine and
start the train. Johnnie still sits, lost in thought. The train
begins to roll away, moving him up and down as the wheels turn.
Still Johnny stares at the same spot on the ground. It is only when
the train enters the wheelhouse that Johnny awakes from his reverie
and realizes his dangerous predicament.
The General
is Keaton's most ambitious film. The majority of the film is a thrilling
chase involving three real trains. In order to catch his train-nappers,
Johnnie takes off in another train. Unfortunately, the car containing
his Confederate comrades is not attached and he leaves the soldiers
behind in his haste. By the time he realizes he is alone, it is
too late. Just like Chaplin's technique, Keaton uses the physical
restrictions and dynamics of the train to inspire his comedy. Johnnie,
the one-man crew, runs all over the moving train, chopping wood,
feeding it into the steam engine, and driving. With amazing ease
he leaps from the wood car, grabs the top of the engine, and swings
himself into the cab of the engine. In a masterful use of the motion
picture frame, he stands on top of the wood pile chopping wood,
while a retreating Confederate Army passes in the field behind him.
Then, a whole Union army passes by and Johnnie is clueless to the
danger.
When Johnnie
finally catches up to his enemies, he runs to the end of the train,
where a huge cannon is attached. His aim is to use the cannon to
force his rivals to stop. On his first try, he loads too little
gunpowder and the cannonball shoots ten feet before dropping into
his own train. So the next time, he loads a ridiculous amount of
gunpowder into the cannon. But when he's climbing to the next car,
a rod from the cannon car snags his leg and won't let go. To make
matters worse, the train hits a bump, jarring the cannon and lowering
its muzzle directly at him. He has only seconds of life left, but
gets tangled in another chain! At the final moment, the track curves
and the cannonball shoots right past Johnnie's head and straight
at the desired target. This is merely one highlight of the film
and a example of Keaton's careful coordination and flawless execution.
The enemies
know they are being followed and they throw heavy railroad ties
into his path to derail him. Johnnie gets out on the very tip of
the train, hoists one of the heavy ties and uses it to knock the
upcoming obstacle off the track. The enemies use obstacle after
impossible obstacle to stop him, but our hero overcomes everything
with extraordinary sense and sometimes plain luck. Even the fortuitous
moments, like the cannon scene, are so carefully planned and executed
that we are always surprised at the outcome. Rest assured, this
kind of "effortless" entertainment is the hardest to put on film.
In the climactic
moments of the film, one of the trains crashes through a burning
bridge and plunges to the water below. This is not a miniature,
but a real, working train. Now you understand why this is also Keaton's
most expensive film!
A CHALLENGE
It is not easy for media junkies like ourselves to watch
black and white, and in these cases silent, movies. Sometimes the
camera jiggles, the editing jumps, and the lack of synchronized
sound forces us to pay more attention than we are used to. The danger
is to dismiss these early films as boring or unimportant. Certainly,
we can't expect The General and The Gold Rush
to be as polished as the latest Jerry Bruckheimer extravaganza,
but by keeping our minds open, we will discover those qualities
that transcend time. This is the challenge, but also the fun, of
old movies. Under what we would consider primitive filmmaking conditions,
these two "silent clowns" accomplished epics of incredible spectacle
which still profoundly move and entertain us. The humbling realization
is that even with our state-of-the-art digital effects and booming
soundtracks, there will likely never be another Charlie Chaplin
or Buster Keaton.
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