The Birth of the Tramp and Charlie Chaplin as a Cultural Icon
Note: This is the seventy-sixth in a series of historical/critical essays examining the best in film from each year. Essentially, I am watching films from the beginning of cinematic history that interest me and/or hold some critical or cultural impact. My personal, living list of favorites is being created at Mubi, showcasing five films per year. All this being explained, what follows is an examination of my favorite 1914 film, KID AUTO RACES AT VENICE, directed by Henry Lehrman.
Alright. Here we are. 1914. Charlie Chaplin. Perhaps the greatest director-performer who ever lived. Certainly my favorite filmmaker on my list so far. How do you approach such a monolithic figure whose very silhouette conjures up some kind of recognition in almost every generation? Well, thankfully, Chaplin’s films litter my favorite films list from here on it, so I will approach the chronicle of his life and the morphing of his career piecemeal as I address each of my favorites. This being said, let’s talk about the first appearance of Chaplin’s indelible Tramp character, KID AUTO RACES AT VENICE (1914).
Well, KID AUTO RACES isn’t the first film to be produced starring the Tramp; that honor belongs to Mabel Normand’s MABEL’S STRANGE PREDICAMENT (1914), released two days after KID AUTO RACES. In fact, KID AUTO RACES was only the second film starring Chaplin to be released. Chaplin’s life is well-documented, but it’s worth explaining how the English stage/vaudeville comedian came to be working for an American film studio at such a formative time for the medium.
Although there’s no official record of his birth, it’s generally believed Chaplin was born in 1889 in London. His mother, Hanna, and his father, Charles Sr., were music hall entertainers. They became estranged shortly after Chaplin’s birth, and his mother had essentially no income. Passed between the custody of his mother and various schools for destitute children, Chaplin experienced the committing of his mother to a mental asylum in 1898 and the death of his father in 1900. His mother remained in institutions until her death in 1928.
Chaplin’s poverty and his parents’ background growing up contextualizes his Tramp character and the pathos he would eventually imbue into his work. More immediately, it threw him into situations where he performed at an extremely young age, touring English music halls at about nine years old. By 14 years old, Chaplin had entered the world of stage comedy, and began touring the country. When Chaplin was 18, his brother Sydney Chaplin (the older brother who would go on to be overshadowed by Charlie) secured him a job with stage comedy giant Fred Karno and his troupe. Charlie toured North America with the Karno company (alongside Stan Laurel), and on his second visit in 1913, was offered a job at Mack Sennett’s Keystone Studios.
The 24-year-old Chaplin made his first film, MAKING A LIVING (1914), and all involved felt dissatisfied. Sennett was skeptical and Chaplin disliked the film; in spite of this, I’ll be writing about it soon as one of my favorites of 1914. In any event, Chaplin had a rocky start at Keystone, but he ended up making 35 shorts and appearing in the first feature comedy film, TILLIE’S PUNCTURED ROMANCE (1914), in his time at Keystone…which lasted only throughout the year. His output gained popularity as Chaplin began to write and direct the films in which he starred about halfway through 1914, but historians generally agree he never would have made it that far if it wasn’t for Mabel Normand.
The only Normand film in my favorites list is the feature THE EXTRA GIRL (1923); in my piece on it, I’ll dive much deeper into the incredible and tragic life of the pioneering film comedian. But for now, it’d be appropriate to say that Normand advocated for Chaplin, convincing Sennett to keep him on after the lukewarm early Keystone films and mentoring Chaplin in the ways of filmmaking, writing, and directing. Normand simply doesn’t give the credit she’s due for her part in the cultivation of film comedy, not only by giving one of the medium’s most recognizable figures a break, but also through her own groundbreaking work.
In spite of all these apparent difficulties at the beginning of Chaplin’s film career at Keystone, clearly I don’t see them. Directed by Henry Lehrman, KID AUTO RACES AT VENICE is, as mentioned, only Chaplin’s second film, and was obviously made before Chaplin took on behind-the-scenes creative duties himself. But its novel concept is still intriguing today, and Chaplin’s (and the Tramp’s) mannerisms are immediately amusing and striking, even today.
But of course, the genesis of the film should still be credited to Lehrman, who also “wrote” the film. Initially an actor, he made his directorial debut in 1911 with Biograph, co-directing a film with Sennett. Lehrman left to join Sennett at the latter’s newly founded Keystone Studios in 1912, and stayed there until he formed his own company in 1915. He left it in 1917 for Fox, and took up with actress Virgina Rappe who, in 1921 at age 26, was murdered and raped, allegedly, by comedian Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle. Arbuckle was found not guilty, but his career was essentially ended, and it’s still not entirely clear if he truly committed the crime. In any event, Lehrman was involved in much of the media and publicity of the scandal, and struggled throughout the ’20s and early talkie era. He died in 1946 at age 60.
Lehrman, who also acts in the film as a director plagued by Chaplin’s irritating, attention-seeking Tramp, conceived a film in which a film crew attempting to shoot a “baby-cart” race in Venice, California is interrupted by a man who keeps walking in front of and mugging for the camera. It’s a simple concept that fits comfortably into just six minutes. As I said, Chaplin’s swaggering, staggering Tramp mannerisms are immediately amusing, and it’s a strange feeling to see the beginning of a figure so closely associated with film greatness in such a small package.
The framing of the film begins with Chaplin’s interactions straight to the camera, but about halfway through, a cut reveals the camera, cameraman, and director. Both of these aspects are an early example of playing with the fourth wall, cemented further by Chaplin’s performance in the midst of a real race and spectators. The film was allegedly improvised and shot in about 45 minutes, which does explain the bit of repetition that pops up in the already short film.
The crowd’s reaction is initially confused, but their laughter at some of his antics gives insight into some of the earliest American reactions to a Chaplin performance. For my part, I literally laughed out loud when seeing Chaplin inexplicably running across the raceway, and the closing moments of him making faces at the camera is one of the more striking images of film to that point, a kind of THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY (1903) moment reversed into hilarity.
KID AUTO RACES AT VENICE, in hindsight, is certainly a minor work amid even just the shorts of Charlie Chaplin. But for 1914, it was a revelation. It’s a lively, genuinely funny short in an era that, while rife with comedy shorts, fails to connect with me for the most part. And of course, in hindsight, its impact and its status as a historical relic lends it a lot of weight. It’s impossible to separate that, truly, but I think KID AUTO RACES AT VENICE is a great, accessible short that heralded an era of film that was to be defined by heretofore unknown cinematic artistry. This is just my first ode to Chaplin, a figure I’ve always recognized for as long as I can remember (there must have been a Tramp porcelain figure or two around my great-grandparents’ house), and he’s certainly going to get a lot of the spotlight as I progress through my favorite films.
Make sure to catch up on and keep up with all of my essays on my favorite films here.
