Gold Rush [Warner Brothers]

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I can't think of another fictional screen character more recognizable worldwide than Charlie Chaplin's Little Tramp. The baggy pants, top coat, vest, oversized shoes, derby hat, cane, distinctive walk, and abbreviated mustache made the diminutive fellow an icon, an instantly identifiable symbol of the small man standing up against all odds. Chaplin's films, especially the early ones with the Little Tramp, have become classics, and it's good to see them finally getting their proper due from MK2 and Warner Brothers in special-edition, two-disc sets called "The Chaplin Collection."

"The Gold Rush" gets extra-special treatment because we not only get the original 1925, ninety-five minute silent movie, we also get Chaplin's 1942 reissue (or "revival" as it he called it) with added sound narration and music written by Chaplin himself and a shorter running time of sixty-eight minutes. Be aware, however, that the addition of sound doesn't necessarily make for an improved motion picture, and, in fact, I much prefer the silent version with its piano accompaniment to the sometimes distracting presence of Chaplin's voice-over and music. Admittedly, it's a very personal preference, so it's convenient to have both films available for comparison.

By 1924 Chaplin had become the biggest movie star in the world, and "The Gold Rush" was to be his most ambitious project yet. It would be his "epic" as he called it, grander in length, in scale, in cast, in every way than anything he had ever done before. And it paid off as audiences loved it. In some theaters, certain scenes were stopped, rewound, and played over again to the delight of insistent viewers. Today, the film seems a bit dated, to be sure, and it is not without its faults, but it continues to stand as one of Chaplin's best works and one of the screen's best comedies of all time.

Produced, written, and directed by as well as starring Chaplin, his inspirations were the Klondike gold strikes of the late nineteenth century and the Donner Party a half century earlier. The anticipation of finding easy money in the Yukon and Alaska sent thousands of men scurrying north, while the unrelated Donner Party of Western settlers met with tragic results and reports of cannibalism. Chaplin would sew elements of these two situations together into the fabric of tragicomedy. It's what he did best: combining pathos and humor, and his Little Tramp was the perfect vehicle for the job.

The story involves a lone prospector, the Tramp, wandering aimlessly in the snow-covered wilderness until he reaches a cabin owned by a wanted desperado, Black Larsen (a name unaccountably changed to Larson in the credits of the 1942 version), played by Tom Murray. By coincidence, no sooner does the Tramp arrive than another lone prospector, Big Jim McKay (Mack Swain), shows up looking for food and shelter, but there's not much to be found in Larsen's place. The three draw lots to see who should venture out into the storm to find help, and Larsen loses. On their own, the Tramp and Big Jim find themselves getting cabin fever before finally finding their way out to safety.

The rest of the plot involves Big Jim's discovery of a gold mine, Big Jim and the Tramp's eventual partnership, and the Tramp's helpless falling in love with a beautiful dance-hall girl, Georgia. The girl is played by Georgia Hale in a role that was initially to have been Lita Grey's, but Ms. Grey found herself pregnant by the director early in the production and had to bow out.

In other words, there isn't a lot of plot. The film is mainly an excuse to see Chaplin in a series of meticulously worked out set pieces, elaborate gags that on occasion run on a little too long but still bring a smile to one's face. Look for standout bits like the Tramp eating the wick of a lantern; the famous scene of his eating his shoes (licorice, incidentally), wrapping the shoestrings around his fork like spaghetti; his walking against the wind (Marcel Marceau, eat your heart out) and being blown about; his waltz with Georgia in a saloon while dragging a dog behind him; his catching his foot on fire; his celebrated dancing rolls, of course; and the amazing teetering cabin. Then, too, look for the New Year's Eve dinner that's a genuine heartbreaker. Chaplin could pull an audience any way he chose.

Expect no great innovations in cinematography or editing from Chaplin. He pretty much points his camera at a scene in medium shots and lets the action unfold. The occasional use of long shots, close-ups, or superimpositions punctuate a few occurrences but not many. Oddly, it doesn't seem to matter as the action moves at a brisk pace and the sparse and judicious editing works to the film's advantage. MTV, take note. Most of the film was shot in a studio and on a back lot after plans to film in the Sierra Nevada Mountains near Truckee, California, were scrapped because of inclement weather. A couple of shots remain, like the opening sight of several thousand prospectors trekking up a pass, but rest of the outdoor scenes were done on an enormous set in Hollywood.

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