Der große Diktator

I agree that the final speech is powerful, and stirring. It made my heart hurt (in a good way ;-) But I also have to say that the comedy is first-rate. When the Charlie and the pilot are unknowingly upside down and chatting away...when the pilot is serenely reminiscing about his girlfriend back home even as the downed plane plows right into the ground...when Hynkel delivers this vitriolic diatribe about 'the Juden' and the blandly impassive translator says, 'the Phooey has just made reference to the Jewish people' and 'the Phooey's heart is full of love to all mankind,' ...when Hynkel strips his hapless henchman of all his beautiful medals, spitting and fussing a mile a minute...I could go on and on! I think no one else on earth could play Hynkel as hilariously as Chaplin, but it might be fun to imagine modern comedians trying. ;-)

... and in today's parlance that means regardless of race, ethnicity, gender or sexual orientation but you might struggle to know it with the polarisation that continually pulls us apart, doing more damage to culture and society than any aspiring dictator could ever do.

A truly great piece of cinema from a truly great performer and genius, whose closing speech mirrors many of the concerns we perpetually live with today and to which we can add climate change and military AI as we enhance our quest for annihilation, extinction and mutually assured destruction.

I was surprised and impressed to find out this movie was released in 1940, before the United States entered World War II. On the surface, satirizing something as solemn and horrible as Nazi Germany could be misconstrued as rash. But Chaplin's brilliance isn't limited to making a joke out of everything. In fact, the seriousness of his message wouldn't have been nearly as valid if not for the excellent use of humor in this movie along with the moments of stark drama blended in. Drama alone wouldn't have had the bite and resonance that this film did. Laughing at someone (Adenoid Hynkel) can be the best way to attack them, while laughing with someone (the Jewish Barber) can be the best way to love them. In the Jewish Barber's final speech, I forgot for a moment that the war he was talking about happened more than half a century ago. They are words that have meaning now, and in any time of war. For this reason I believe the film did far greater good than harm, as it still has the same profound effect today.

Back at the dawn of the talkie era, Charlie Chaplin defended his decision not to start making sound films by saying "The moment the little tramp talks, he's dead". He was right of course. His comic persona was the creation of an era in cinema when words and voices were irrelevant. The little tramp's appeal lay entirely in how he did things, not in what he was supposed to be saying. And yet it was inevitable that if Chaplin wanted to continue in the business he would have to cave in eventually. Besides Chaplin's agenda was itself changing, and he had now reached a point in his life where he really wanted to speak to the world.

Many of the early scenes in The Great Dictator seem to prove Chaplin's fears about sound film. The slapstick has lost its flow, looking forced and awkward. And it appears Chaplin has no real idea how to write or direct dialogue. Sometimes characters make some banal little comment on the action as if simply to fill up the silence. Even worse things happen when Chaplin attempts verbal humour, resorting to feeble puns like the one about the gas keeping him awake all night (not that puns are necessarily bad, just that Chaplin isn't very good at them). Above all, the visual and verbal business is poorly integrated, with a badly-timed stop-start feel. It makes it particularly jarring after a dialogue scene to see this ageing version of the little tramp doing some of his old moves, such as teetering on one foot as he runs into a squad of stormtroopers. These scenes are unlikely to raise more than a titter, and are a sad testament to the fact that this familiar character was past his prime and out of time.

But this is a tale of two Charlies. For the first time in decades Chaplin creates a new character for himself in dictator Adenoid Hynkel. And the great thing about Hynkel is that he sidesteps Chaplin's inability with comedy in words but still makes use of comedy in sound. The dictator's cod-Germanic speech is part silly-voice, part linguistic nonsense and it is very, very funny. It actually adds to the humour that no-one else in the picture speaks it, and that Hynkel mostly lapses into it in moments of anger, as if it was some involuntary anxiety-driven affectation. The other great thing about Hynkel is that he is one of Chaplin's great works of satire. The nonsense language is of course a lampooning of Hitler's forceful speechmaking, but the parody continues through everything Hynkel does. Take for example when he has finished posing with the baby, and rather disgustedly wipes his hand clean. He does it with the same stiff-faced disdain that Hitler always displayed in public, but the character's puffed-up austerity is also being punctured by the fact that he's just got his hand covered in wee wee. The little tramp, a creation of and for the silent era, could not make the transition to sound. But Hynkel is a creation of and for the sound era, and he works fantastically.

As the picture unfolds, it begins to gain maturity and clarity, not to mention comic brilliance. Jack Oakie's Napoloni makes a perfect partner for Hynkel, and their antics together are like the Marx Brothers at their most riotous. Napoloni is also a work of satire equal to Hynkel, with Oakie working in many of Mussolini's less dignified mannerisms, such as curling his lip and bulging his eyes like he's trying to squeeze out a fart. While Chaplin's direction is at its most overt and showy, he also cleverly and subtly gears his compositions towards ridicule, making the most of those tall set designs to show off the dictator as some little twerp. And finally, the picture acquires the poignancy that made Chaplin's silent features stand out, this time with an extra bite in the seriousness of its message. It is then that you realise Chaplin knew his little tramp was finished, and yet that he needed him here to deliver his point. By subjecting him to sound, Chaplin sacrifices his alter-ego, making a means to speak his mind to the public who had loved him.

Aside from giving this film its proper socio-historical credit as one of only 2 U.S films which condemned Hitler, Naziism and the Holocaust prior to U.S. involvement in WWII, it's a great time as well. Much of the humor remains visual, and some of the funniest (and most famous) scenes are done in the silent mode (e.g. the globe). Although a bit more lacking in continuity and editing than many of Chaplin's earlier films, to do it credit simply as a passable first effort at a new medium is to damn it with faint praise. It's unique. No serious student of film can neglect to see and appreciate The Great Dictator as a classic amalgam of film talents.