Die Kur

"The Cure" has Chaplin arriving tipsy to a health clinic to supposedly dry out, but he shows up with a trunk full of booze. This film has some memorable scenes but the premise of it is very funny. There are plenty of run-ins with Eric Campbell's character with the foot cast. Campbell is also Chaplin's rival for the girl as well, although, poor girl, has to(?) choose between an ogre and a recovering alcoholic who is failing miserably at the recovering part.

Outside of the hotel is some sort of little fountain or well that has a stone terrace around it and stone benches. Mostly women it seems sit around the 'ol water cure hole and drink. At some point in the movie, a dude that Charlie had been rough with earlier comes back. The man goes into Chaplin's hotel room and throws every last bottle of booze (that is the ones that the crazy long-bearded old bellhop didn't drink) directly into the water hole below. So much for health clinic security! Before long, the entire hotel is trashed.

There's a good sequence when Chaplin goes into the spa for a massage with a large guy who looks like he's practicing wrestling moves on people. "The Cure" seems to lack a number of good sequences but makes up for it a bit with the overall funny factor. It still doesn't appear to be his best of the Mutual period (this was the 10th film for Mutual, 45th time directing and 67th overall)

Measured in terms of sheer belly-laughs The Cure may well be the funniest movie Charlie Chaplin ever made. Not one moment is given over to sentimentality about childhood trauma, unrequited love, poverty or anything of the sort; this time around, Chaplin is single-minded in his drive to make us laugh, and he achieves his goal with ruthless and exhilarating efficiency.

The story's setting may require a bit of explanation for younger viewers. At the time this film was made there were a number of well-known health resorts in the U.S. and Europe built around mineral springs. It was fashionable for middle- and upper-class people to spend a week or two at these spas to address whatever health problems they might be struggling with, for it was believed that mineral water cured or at least alleviated a variety of ailments. The resorts were visited by well-to-do patients afflicted with everything from rheumatism, gout, or polio to chronic alcoholism, and someone in the latter category who went to a spa to get clean and sober was said to be "taking the cure."

When Charlie arrives at the spa that is our setting, pushed in a wheeled deck-chair by a uniformed attendant and obviously still tipsy, we know right away that despite the familiar mustache he's not the Little Tramp we usually encounter. Here, though slightly disheveled, Charlie sports a dapper ensemble of light jacket, straw boater, and spotted tie, indicating that he's a respectable bourgeois citizen who has come to this place -- probably at the insistence of family or friends -- to dry out. It's soon apparent that he has no intention of changing his ways, however, for his wardrobe trunk is full of booze and he wastes no time in refreshing himself. When an attendant tries to ply him with mineral water he reacts with disgust, and after taking a sip rushes back to his room to wash the taste out of his mouth with liquor. Just to demonstrate that he's not entirely a wastrel, however, Charlie gallantly rescues a young lady (Edna Puviance) from the unwelcome attentions of an obnoxious man (Eric Campbell), and even sobers up long enough to go for a massage and a very brief dip in the spa's pool. Eventually, Charlie's stash of liquor is discovered by the resort's manager and inadvertently dumped into the spring. Soon, everyone in the place except for Charlie and Edna is drunk and disorderly, and Charlie must once again come to Edna's aid.

The great sequences in this comedy begin almost immediately, when Charlie confronts a revolving door and has his first run-in with Eric Campbell, whose unpleasant personality determines that his gouty foot will be fair game for brutality thereafter. Campbell, who wears an especially nasty-looking beard, has a great moment when he appears behind Edna in the lobby, leering at her through a curtain like a crazed goblin. Things get a little risqué when Charlie misinterprets Eric's flirty gestures as meant for himself, but the real comic highpoint comes when Charlie heads for the pool and must fend off a beefy masseur (Henry Bergman). This sequence is absolutely hilarious no matter how many times you see it, and stands with the best work of Chaplin's career.

Perhaps the synopsis of The Cure will sound distasteful to anyone who hasn't seen the film; and granted, attitudes towards substance abuse have changed over time. I maintain that Chaplin was well aware of the seriousness of his subject matter -- his own father died young as a result of alcoholism -- and that he did not take it lightly. The true subject of this film was the contemporary fashion for health resorts, and much of the humor derives from poking fun at the proponents of the spring's curative powers. We see just enough of the spa's administrative staff to get a sense of their self-righteousness, a well-meaning but pompous attitude suggesting that they know all the answers and hold the key to health and happiness. Charlie with his trunk-full of booze is a dangerously subversive element in this atmosphere, and it's his (almost accidental) overthrow of authority that's funny and exhilarating.

The Cure is beautifully staged, expertly performed, and hilarious. Where health and happiness are concerned I'd say that viewing it is as restorative as the spring waters touted by the resort's staff in the film: it's good and good for you.

Very simply the most hysterical of all his Mutuals! Charlie is not only inebriated throughout his stay in rehab but makes sure everyone in the place gets crocked too! A masterpiece! A riot! You'll laugh until you wet your pants!

When Chaplin was in production for his April 1917's "The Cure," American politicians were concerned about the overindulgence of alcohol in the country and were seriously considering enacting a ban on its sales, as some individual states were increasingly doing on their own. Three years after "The Cure" was released, the United States enacted its Prohibition on all alcoholic beverages.

Chaplin, in a number of films, showed his Tramp character drunk. But the times now were calling for sensitivity for the lower and middle-classes on the issue, so he created his character here into an upperclass dandy who rooms at a health spa. Trouble is, he brings a luggage crate full of liquor bottles, which ends up being thrown into an accessible well. Originally, Chaplin had intended to use a fountain for the bottles to be tossed into by the spa's staff, but after 77 takes, Chaplin realized it was easier to fall into a well built on the surface than in an elevated fountain.

Chaplin continued to be a master of using props and situations for belly laughs. The revolving door at the spa's entrance serves as a merry-go-round of human inescapability. And the massage parlor sequence proves to be a cat-and-mouse chase sequence between a hulking powerhouse masseuse and the scrawny Chaplin.

Out of all of Chaplin's short films, this is the one I could watch over and over again. Chaplin is at his absolute best as a reluctant guest at a spa. His daring escape from a massage, and the funniest use I have ever seen of an escalator are the highlights of this gem.