The Gold Rush (1925)

Director: Charles Chaplin
Writer: Charles Chaplin
Stars: Charles Chaplin, Mack Swain and Georgia Hale

Index: That's a Wrap!

I was rather surprised to find that I haven’t reviewed The Gold Rush before, given that it’s the indirect reason why I wrote Charlie Chaplin Centennial: Keystone, a book about his first year in film, 1914. The trigger was a friend of mine attending a college film class, because he was the only person in the room who looked at the cover of the textbook and recognised Chaplin as the Little Tramp in The Gold Rush.

The point, of course, was that a century ago, the Little Tramp’s famous silhouette was the most recognised image in the entire world. To go from that to the comment of “Who’s that dude on the cover?” in a college film class is a scary descent in cultural awareness.

I wrote that book in 2014 by reviewing each film on its centennial and, for a very different project, I’m now doing the same thing for The Gold Rush, which was a huge hit for Chaplin. In 1925, it was the fourth highest grossing film of the year. Today, Movieweb lists it as the fifth highest grossing silent film of all time. What’s more, it’s the one film Chaplin said he wanted to be remembered for, though he said that in 1925, so after The Kid but before City Lights, two of his films that I’d argue are better still.

That’s not to say that this isn’t an utter gem because it is. However, it’s ruthlessly episodic; it’s easy to tell the difference between sets and locations and, indeed, bears and men in bear suits; and the romance is a dubious one: it’s entirely one sided until, well, it isn’t and, if we consider the context, I’m not convinced that the happy ending is indeed a happy ending.

As you might expect, the film takes place in the frozen wastes of the north, during the gold rush in the Klondike. In fact, the first shots are Chaplin’s recreation in the Sierra Nevadas of famous 1898 photos taken at the Chilkoot Pass, six hundred extras slogging through real snow up a real mountain to achieve that effect.

The Little Tramp is one of them, though he’s credited as the Lone Prospector this time. The next shot is clearly a set, even though the bear following him is clearly real, but then it’s back to a real location again. I may be being a little picky here, but that sort of thing doesn’t come up in The Kid or City Lights.

After that extra-filled shot, we spend quite a while watching three actors. Chaplin is new in the Klondike when he gets caught in a blizzard and takes refuge in a remote cabin. Inside is Tom Murray as Black Larsen, burning wanted posters of himself to keep warm. Soon joining them is another lone prospector, Mack Swain as Big Jim McKay, who’s only just struck it rich as the blizzard hits.

While this is another comedy from Chaplin, he broke new ground in his ongoing attempts to merge comedy with tragedy. The three are brought together by a raging blizzard and the second concern after shelter is food. The Little Tramp is desperate enough to devour a candle, with salt for taste. After Larsen leaves to seek sustenance in the storm, having drawn a lower card, the other two cook and eat a leather boot to stay alive. Big Jim even starts to hallucinate that his new friend is a giant chicken, chasing him with a knife. Chaplin looked at the Donner Party for inspiration, not a traditional source for jokes, but he successfully finds the balance that he was looking for.

Once the storm passes, the story splits into two threads, which will inevitably recombine into one towards the end of the film.

The first follows Big Jim, who returns to his claim, only to find Larsen awaiting him with evil intent. Larsen loses his life through karma but Big Jim loses his memory and wanders into town knowing only that he struck it rich near a cabin, without remembering where.

The second follows the Tramp, who reaches town first and falls in love with a flighty dance hall girl, Georgia, who doesn’t reciprocate and instead uses him as a human prop to annoy a beau, a cad named Jack Cameron. They meet a few times, with the Tramp always unaware of what she and especially her friends truly think of him. It gets sadder and sadder until...

And I’ll shut up there so you can watch this yourselves to see what happens. You’ve had a hundred years! The Gold Rush is one of the all time great comedies and lots of its scenes have become so iconic that you may well have seen them in isolation, three of them in particular.

The first has to be the boot scene, which is now the defining image of the dark flipside of a time when many became rich overnight. As with many great comedy scenes, it’s a serious one, the Tramp ogling his cooked boot like it’s a five star Michelin meal. It is Thanksgiving!

The second is the dancing bread scene, with Chaplin sticking a couple of forks into a couple of bread rolls and turning them into a pair of dancing feet. It’s a dream sequence of sorts, as he’s imagining what a carefully prepared New Year’s banquet might have been like if Georgia had only turned up as she promised. That just makes it sadder, but it’s comedy gold, enough that Johnny Depp recreated it in Benny & Joon and Robert Downey, Jr. reenacted it in Chaplin.

The third takes place back at the cabin, after a fresh storm has moved it onto the edge of a precipice, unknown to the Tramp and Big Jim, who wake up inside and go about their day. As they do so, the cabin tilts back and forth, with increasing danger shown through impeccable choreography.

My book about Chaplin focused on 1914, his first year in film during which he learned the ropes and took command of his career. By this point, he was the most famous actor anywhere in the world and he had total control of every aspect of his movies. He wrote them, acted in them and directed them. He produced them as well and was one of the four owners of United Artists, the production company. Other than a few scenes shot in California, this was entirely shot in his own Hollywood studio.

What’s more, while I’m watching as close to the original 1925 version as exists today, given that Chaplin re-edited it for a 1942 re-release, the score is adapted from the score he wrote for that re-release. It has been said that, if he only could, he would have been every member of the cast and crew himself.

What that means is that this is exactly what he wanted it to be and, even though there are other actors in play, we’re not watching them, even the lovely Georgia Hale, who had become Chaplin’s latest fling by the time they wrapped production. We’re watching Chaplin taking his most famous character to a new level. While it isn’t my favourite of his, it’s still a must.