As we know, early silent films often relied on actual
events—the kid auto races at Venice, the opening of Los
Angeles Harbor, etc.—for their settings and so, filming on
location was a requirement of most film production at the
time. Given his reported negative attitude about
these “outings,” it’s not surprising to find an early clip that
portrays Charlie Chaplin at odds with the world outside the studio in
one such endeavor. Motion Picture for December
1914 notes that “Charles Chaplin was nearly arrested
recently for blocking the traffic while taking a scene in “The
Song Shop,” better known as the Keystone film, His
Musical Career. But besides these unavoidable legal
transgressions, what was the average day like with Chaplin on
location?
James Hilbert reported at length on just this topic for the
November 1917 issue of Motion Picture. The film this
time was The Adventurer made under the Mutual
banner and the scenes Hilbert witnessed and discussed in
the article are the ones of Charlie the convict outwitting the
inept policemen on or near the beach. Hilbert reveals their
location as “a summer camp” in Los Flores Canyon in the
Santa Monica Mountains. After the filming party (plus
reporters) found its way to the specific mountainside Charlie Chaplin
had chosen, Hilbert witnessed the lengths to which Chaplin
had to go to get the shots he wanted:
The guide climbed up first;
then he threw a rope down, and Charlie
tied it about his waist. The guide started
to pull on the rope, and, believe me,
it was a whole comedy in itself to see
Charlie climb that mountainside. He
had on those long shoes about ten times
too large for him, and every time he
took a step up he slid down two. When
he was about half-way up he lost his
hat and it started to roll down the
mountainside, and Charlie, in his haste
to recover it, nearly pulled the guide
down with him, burning the guide’s hands
with the swiftly moving rope as it pulled
through his hands.
Finally Charlie got mad at the preposterous
shoes and yanked them off. He tied them
together, threw them over his shoulders,
and made a new start in his stocking-feet,
much to the amusement of the campers,
who were taking in every agonized look
Charlie made as he stepped on the sharp
stones.
At last, when he reached the location,
nearly four hundred feet from the road,
he wasn’t satisfied with it at all,
and he returned to the road, still in
his stocking-feet. Then the motors started
to purr, and they, camp-followers and
all, were off to find a new location.”
(60)
Hilbert retells other mishaps of the
day, including a dummy of a prison guard
that rolled only halfway down the mountainside
and got caught on some vegetation, various
and sundry “flivvers” (cars!) in the
shot, and a wayward rattlesnake that
finally stopped the whole proceedings.
Irritations and distractions, every
one.
On the set of The Gold Rush
at the far away location of Truckee,
there were irritations and distractions
of other varieties. As Lita Grey Chaplin
reports in My Life with Chaplin,
“the weather was so bitterly cold that
spring of 1924 that before the first
two days were over I’d had my fill”
(60). Charlie, meanwhile, despite the
cold, “personally scouted every inch
of the area for suitable backgrounds,
and he had the cameramen shoot thousands
upon thousands of feet of film, aware
that he might wind up using little or
none of it, yet eager to get the feel
of vast expanses of snow” (61). Such
diligence finally led to sickness among
many of the company, including Charlie.
Needless to say, filming on this location
was abruptly curtailed.
Photographer William Phillips submitted
a photo essay to Photoplay
magazine for the April 1935 issue entitled
“On Location with Charlie Chaplin as
He Produces His First Picture in Four
Years.” The scene being filmed is the
final one of the movie, showing the
Little Tramp and the Gamin walking off
towards the mountains. While the photos
really tell the story here, Phillips’
captions provide some interesting information
as well. Taken all together, these captions,
in fact, seem to form a short narrative
of the experience:
Charlie hangs on
to his chair, poised to spring. Things
are not going the way he wants them
to go. Charlie takes a look through
the camera, and changes the angle. Maybe
this effect will be better this time.
Amused, but still perplexed, Charlie
is seen in a characteristic Chaplin
pose. Chaplin confers with his assistant
director, Carter DeHaven, illustrating
what he wants next. Charlie sits back
and takes a smoke. And studies the situation.
Just how to get that effect--. Everything
is all right, now. Charlie gives his
assistant the big grin . . . and then,
almost immediately, calls a recess,
to advise Paulette Goddard, his new
leading woman, on how to do her nails!
A quizzical Paulette watches a scene
by the old maestro, while she eyes our
cameraman. Finally, the day’s work is
finished. So, Charlie takes his cane,
forgets work and is off for home.
(28)
 I imagine myself
as Charles the First coming through that
window to be beheaded—where he might have
looked. Then as a spectator, placing myself
in a position where the citizens must
have stood that day” (I:80). So, the next
time you’re standing at the corner of
Wilshire and Commonwealth looking at the
fish-scale latticework adorning a window
on the Town House apartment building and
seeing Charlie and Virginia walking along
with a basketful of flowers, you can feel
some solace in knowing that Charlie might
understand your motivation—at the same
time as he is remembering the countless
distractions and irritations that he experienced
filming the scene.
|
