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beginning with the double-cross and ending with his replacement by the little Jewish barber.
Only Chaplin could bring forth belly laughs from such a subject at such a time. Witness the scene of the parley between the two dictators over their projected invasion of Austerlich, which degenerates into the most wildly funny custard pie fling since Mack Sennett days; or the glorious confusion arising out of Napoloni's arrival on an Imperial train that draws up in the wrong place; or the scene in which the two dictators, in barber's chairs, each strive to gain a vantage point from which they can look down on the other; or the superb scene filled with an irony light and delicate as a bubble, in which Hynkel juggles with a terrestrial globe, dancing with the world to the music of Lohengrin until the juggling becomes a ballet, until Hynkel caresses the globe with such energy and ardour that it bursts in his face, and he breaks down into hysterical sobbing.
The sentimentality of the film and its pathos are expressed in terms of the little Jewish barber — also played by Chaplin — and Hannah the Jewish refugee he befriends.
At the end of the film comes the famous harangue, delivered by Chaplin: (see Appendix B.)
1947 — Monsieur Verdoux (125 minutes). Released 11th April.
Cast: Charlie Chaplin, Mady Correll, Allison Roddan, Robert Lewis, Audrey Betz, Martha Raye, Ada-May, Isobel Elsom, Marjorie Bennett, Helen Heigh, Margaret Hoffman, Marilyn Nash, Irving Bacon, Edwin Mills, Virginia Brissac, Almira Sessions, Eula Morgan, Bernard J. Nedell, Charles Evans, William Frawley, Barbara Slater, Christine Ell.
However fundamental and tragic the social implications of this film, there is great comedy in it, and the wonderful touches from a master hand, as when he starts laying breakfast for two, suddenly remembers the successful activities of the night, and methodically lays for one only; or the scene in which his beautifully expressive hands hover delicately, lovingly, over his roses, while in the background dense black smoke pouring from an incinerator marks the passing of a victim. His juggling with a tea cup, his backward fall through a window; above all, his magnificent scenes with Martha Raye, who has recorded her delight at working with so perfect a partner, arc Chaplin at his comic best. Throughout, there is perfection of movement and gesture and mime, the subtlety of his most finished art in his most finished role.