The Great Dictator

Transitions are difficult. This film serves as an example of that fact, as director and star Charlie Chaplin presents an uneven effort in his first full talking picture. The movie catches Chaplin caught between the type of visual set pieces that were standard fare in silent films and the more structured narrative demands of the modern, sound enhanced motion picture of later days. Some of the visual sequences fall flat, while others still work well enough to elicit genuine laughs. Meanwhile, a compelling narrative tale, featuring excellent supporting work from Paulette Goddard, is woven into and around those visual jokes, offering a story of deep pathos—in the story of the crimes of the period leading up to World War II—and biting satire—via a full-throated attack on the perpetrator of the those crimes. The sympathetic story is genuine and moving, even within the unevenness of the full presentation. And then, when the film reaches its climax, Chaplin steps out of character and delivers an end statement that is surprising and electrifying and that carries the potential of rousing the passions of even the most diffident viewer. This film was nominated for Best Picture, and that was clearly a reach; I can’t deem that nomination as anything other than a nod to lifetime achievement. Yet the movie’s message comes across so forcefully in the denouement that this film deserves recognition as must-see material, for its instructional value on being a human being if nothing else—and especially so as a great deal of that message remains so sadly relevant today.