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experiences, The Kid stands alone in that it is as autobiographical as David Copperfield was for Dickens.
His own poverty-stricken childhood, his need of his mother, his desolation when he was snatched from her, the background of want and insecurity he had lived through were reproduced in the film, and shared between Charlie and his adopted waif.
Chaplin loved children, as all emotional and sensitive men do, but they terrified him. Their directness, their simplicity, above all their assurance, made him feel conscious of his shortcomings; and he found it difficult to talk naturally and simply to them.
But Chaplin's relationship with Jackie Coogan, the child of the film, was one of the happiest and most successful of his life. He made the small boy into an artist as he had made Edna Purviance into an artist, with infinite patience and tenderness and tact, and an exact knowledge of the end he had in view.
Charlie's tremendous protective love of The Kid in the film was based on the truth of Chaplin's love for the child in real life; and Jackie Coogan adored the man who took him into the fantastic world of film.
There was a moment when Chaplin was directing Jackie in one of the most pathetic incidents in the film — the scene in which he is torn from Charlie's arms when they are hiding from the officials who are seeking them out. Jackie had astounding dramatic talent, and his real life relationship with Chaplin lent such poignancy to the scene as Jackie rehearsed it that quite suddenly Chaplin pushed the child into his father's arms, — "You'll have to take over! I simply can't stand it! I can't stand it!"
And Coogan senior was astounded to see that Chaplin was himself almost in tears, cursing and muttering to ward off the breakdown the child had provoked in him.
When The Kid was released, it was hailed throughout the world as Chaplin's finest film; and it is still regarded as one of the best he ever made. It was universally successful. Yet, when it was just finished, Chaplin himself was utterly despondent about it, and fearful of the reaction of the critics. In this mood of discouragement, he asked Sam Goldwyn to come and see it, and advise him on its improvement. Sam, who profoundly admired Chaplin's work, went that very day. Even he was not prepared for the impact of the film, and the enormous progress made since A Dog's Life, Shoulder Arms and Sunnyside, the outstanding films previously made for First National.
As Goldwyn roared with laughter, wiped away a surreptitious tear, moved in his seat in ecstatic delight, or remained still in moments of