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But we could not do that, of course.
I think that logic and inspiration have enabled me to discover something equivalent to Chaplin's contribution which will enrich the genre of our film comedy.
In my opinion, it is not the lyrical and the sentimental (in the positive sense of the term) that will be the distinctive feature of our high screen genre. No, it will be something else.
While in Chaplin's films we have love of mankind, solicitude for the "smaller brother," tears for the humiliated and insulted, for those whom fate maltreats, in our films we will have social emotion — socialist love of mankind. And socialist love of mankind is not compassion but re-creation; comedy scenes are socially, not individually, lyrical. But social lyricism is pathos. The lyricism of the masses is a hymn. A comedy evoking not lyrical but pathetic tears — this is how I visualized the comedy in our film art.
The second point is that it will have not only a generalized type like Chaplin. It will have types which at the same time will be notions. (Can you imagine — a notion sitting down or having a shave, taking off its hat or going to bed!)
We all start our lives as exploiters. For nine months we draw our life's sustenance from our mothers. For many more months we nurse at their breasts.
In our biological development childhood is the period of exploitation and consumption. While this period lasts it is timely and even pleasant. But if it lasts beyond its natural time it is disgusting and fit only for idiots.
Social relations of exploitation were conducive to progress at certain stages of social development. In its initial phase the bourgeoisie was a progressive class. But relations of exploitation mean social infancy. The disgusting nature of these relations becomes apparent as soon as humanity has learned to use its feet. Actually, as soon as they appear.
The object of our ridicule will be this trait— social infancy crawling over into the age of social maturity, I should say, socialist maturity.
One cannot help laughing while watching Chaplin, playing a paper hanger, manicure his nails with huge wall-paper scissors. But this stunt is individual and illogical.
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