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Charlie Chaplin – The Tragic Life of the Little Tramp

Over a century after he first appeared in
movies, Charlie Chaplin’s name still conjures images of a funny little guy in a bowler hat
causing mirth-inducing chaos. By some measures, his Little Tramp is the
most famous character to have ever existed, a clown so beloved that not even Hitler stealing
his mustache could ruin him for us. But what about the man behind the character? Born into grinding poverty in Victorian London,
Charlie Chaplin rose from the gutter to become the highest paid actor in Hollywood. He met with icons. Courted revolutionaries. And then lived long enough to see his reputation
dragged through the mud and his adopted country disown him. They say that behind the smile of every clown
lurks tears. If that’s true, then it makes sense that
the story of cinema’s greatest clown would be the most tragic of all. The Kid (1889 – 1908)
When Charles Spencer Chaplin was born in London on April 16, 1889, it must have seemed like
he’d hit the artistic jackpot. His mother, Hannah, was a singer, while his
father, Charles Chaplin Sr., was an up-and-coming comic. Barely a year after young Charlie had been
born, Charles Sr. was touring the USA and pulling in megabucks. Unfortunately, he was doing it without Charlie
or Hannah. That spring, 1890, Charles Sr. had walked
out on his wife and baby son and taken his money with him. Hannah, Charlie, and Charlie’s older half-brother
Sydney were plunged into biting poverty. This being Victorian England, biting poverty
really did bite. Hard. Still, Hannah did what she could for her boys,
providing for them with her singing work, teaching them her routines. Much later, Charlie would say his own skill
as a dancer, singer and mimic came from observing Hannah as she did the housework. By the age of five, young Charlie was able
to mimic his mother’s most popular songs. This turned out to be super useful when, one
evening in 1894, Hannah’s voice gave out halfway through a performance. Charlie was watching from the wings. When Hannah stopped singing, the manager simply
shoved the child onstage and told him to do something! So Charlie did. In front of a cheering crowd, he finished
his mother’s ditty for her, bringing the house down. In any other biography, this would be the
heartwarming moment Charlie attained stardom. Sadly, there’s very little that’s heartwarming
about the life of Charlie Chaplin. Hannah’s lost voice wasn’t laryngitis,
but the first outward sign of the mental illness that was consuming her. On June 29, 1895, she was committed to an
insane asylum. Too young to fend for themselves, Charlie
and Sydney went to the workhouse. The tales of their next few years are heartbreaking. At some point they went to live with Charlie’s
father, Charles Sr., but the abuse they suffered at his alcoholic hands was so great the authorities
were forced to step in. Not that Charles Sr. didn’t sometimes try
to act the father. In 1897, he got Charlie a gig with a clog
dancing troupe known as the Eight Lancashire Lads. But the troupe soon dissolved, and Charlie
went straight back to the workhouse. On May 9, 1901, Charles Chaplin Sr. finally
died of alcohol related illnesses. Not long after, Hannah – herself only just
back in the boys’ lives – had a final relapse and was recommitted to the asylum. This time, young Charlie was completely alone. Sydney had taken the only way out of poverty
he could and joined the Navy. With his mother, brother, and father gone,
Charlie struggled to survive. Over the next five years, Charlie worked any
job he could get his hands on. Newspaper vendor, toymaker, printer, doctor’s
boy… whatever paid, he’d do it. When he couldn’t get work, he simply resorted
to sleeping rough. Although he picked up acting parts on the
side, including a one year run in a 1903 stage production of Sherlock Holmes, they were never
enough to support his dream of becoming an actor. That finally changed in 1908. That year Charlie Chaplin, by then a lad of
19, landed a gig with the Fred Karno Repertoire Company. Although the work was minor – he played
“the Drunk” in a sketch – it brought him into contact with the right people. Stan Laurel, for instance, was another cast
member. Perhaps more important still, in 1910, the
Fred Karno company gave Charlie the chance to do something he’d never dreamed of. He was going to tour America. The Tramp (1910 – 1918)
In fall, 1912, American movie producer Mack Senett was looking to add new talent to his
burgeoning stock of actors. The head of Keystone Films, Senett was one
of the pioneers cashing in on the new gold rush in California. Silent films were a fresh, exciting medium
in 1912, where money could be quickly made. Provided, of course, you could find the comic
talent. That year, one of the best reviewed comics
in America was an English lad called Charlie Chaplin, on a second tour with Fred Karno’s
company. So Senett set about luring him to Keystone. He offered him $150 a week. The chance of continuous work. Chaplin dithered for an entire year before
finally accepting Senett’s terms in November, 1913. Not two weeks later, he was Keystone Studios’
newest actor. Making a Living, the first Charlie Chaplin
film in cinematic history debuted on February 2, 1914. It was… not a success. Chaplin and the director, Henry Lehrman, fell
out so badly that Lehrman cut most of Chaplin’s gags from the final edit. Even had he kept them, it’s unlikely Making
a Living would be fondly remembered. Chaplin’s character was nasty. Unfunny. Perhaps Keystone had made a bad investment
in its new comedian? If the thought ever flashed through Mack Senett’s
mind, it was soon gone. After Making a Living wrapped, Senett was
at the Keystone lot, watching the filming of a short called Mabel’s Strange Predicament. Chaplin was hanging around, hoping to be noticed,
when Senett said “we need some gags here.” The producer pointed at Chaplin. “Put on comedy makeup. Anything will do.” Chaplin went to the prop department, unsure
what Senett wanted. There, he found a pair of baggy trousers,
a bowler hat, and a cane. As Chaplin later said:
“I had no idea of the character. But the moment I was dressed, the clothes
and the makeup made me feel the person he was. I began to know him, and by the time I walked
on to the stage he was fully born.” That “he” was the Little Tramp. And he was about to make Chaplin’s fortune. In the Tramp costume, Chaplin made the crew
on Mabel’s Strange Predicament laugh so hard the entire Keystone company stopped to
watch. By the end of the day, Chaplin swore he’d
never perform without his new costume again. And so it was that on February 7, 1914, the
Tramp’s second Keystone picture, Kid Auto Races at Venice, beat Mabel’s Strange Predicament
into theaters. It was an instant hit. You can clearly see the effect the Tramp had
on Chaplin’s career. Over 1914, Chaplin made 32 more films for
Keystone. When his contract ran out in December, a bidding
war erupted that made Senett’s initial offer of $150 a week look pitiful. Essanay Studios offered Chaplin $1,250 a week
plus a $10,000 signing bonus. Not being an idiot, Chaplin said yes. The next few years saw Chaplin’s star go
supernova. At Essanay, he rebooted the Little Tramp in
1915’s The Tramp, making the character more sweet natured. The new approach was so successful that Mutual
Films poached Chaplin from Essanay with an offer of $10,000 a week. Aged 26, Chaplin was now the highest paid
actor in Hollywood. Over the next two years, Chaplin shot 12 shorts
for Mutual. He later called those years the happiest of
his life. Not that happiness stopped him from moving
on. At the end of 1917, Chaplin terminated his
Mutual contact. He built his own studio, signing a deal with
First National to release his pictures without interference. Not yet 30, Chaplin was now the most famous
movie star in America. His next move? To conquer the world. The Gold Rush (1918 – 1928)
The next decade was a golden time for Chaplin the filmmaker. His first feature, The Kid, came out in 1920. The Gold Rush, possibly his best work, followed
in 1924. In 1928 he made The Circus, a film Orson Welles
– the director of Citizen Kane, the greatest movie of all time – once called “the greatest
movie of all time.” It was also a golden time for Chaplin the
producer. In 1919, he ditched First National and cofounded
United Artists with Mary Pickford and DW Griffith, giving them total control over their pictures. So… that’s it for the rest of this video,
huh? Us throwing movie names at you and detailing
just how exceptionally rich and famous Chaplin became. Not quite. If the decade following 1918 was a golden
time for Chaplin’s public faces, it was far less so for his private one. It was in this period that the darkly flawed
Chaplin emerged. It began in fall 1918, when Mildred Harris
told Chaplin she was pregnant. The two had started seeing each other earlier
in the year in secret. In secret because, while Chaplin was nearly
30, Harris was barely half his age. Under California law, having sex with someone
aged only 16 was statutory rape. So, when Harris told Chaplin she was pregnant,
it sent the star into panic mode. That October, 1918, Chaplin married Harris
in a secret ceremony. Not long after, Harris’s pregnancy vanished. Suspecting his new wife had tricked him, Chaplin
resolved to make her life hell. Over the next two years, Chaplin badly mistreated
Harris. Although he was never physical, he was mentally
abusive, ignoring her, belittling her, calling her an idiot. In 1920, when Harris was 18, Chaplin finally
got her pregnant for real then divorced her. It wouldn’t be his only icky behavior that
decade. The same year he divorced Harris, Chaplin
met Lita Gray, then a mere 12 years old. Chaplin kept her close for the next few years,
until Gray finally turned either 15 or 16, depending on which source you read, then seduced
her. Today, we would call this behavior “grooming”. Even in the freewheeling ‘20s, it was shocking. On November 23, 1924, Lita told Chaplin she
was pregnant. Once again hasty to avoid a statutory rape
charge, Chaplin married her in New Mexico. Once again, the Little Tramp made their marriage
a misery. Nor was it just Chaplin’s home life that
was suddenly devoid of laughter. The same month he married Lita, Chaplin was
on a yacht when producer Thomas Ince died in mysterious circumstances. It’s long been rumored that Chaplin was
sleeping with newspaper baron William Randolph Hearst’s mistress, and that Hearst accidentally
shot Ince while trying to kill Chaplin. But if the rumors were bad enough, the divorce
suit Lita filed in 1927 was even worse. After two miserable years with Chaplin, Lita
was a broken woman. In her court filing she accused Chaplin of
trying to force an abortion onto her, of mental cruelty, and of forcing her to participate
in sex acts so disgusting there’s no way we can realistically describe them here without
getting our entire channel banned. Although Chaplin settled the suit out of court
for $600,000, the scandal consumed him. Chaplin was used to being a household name. Now he was a lightning rod for those who hated
the loose morals of the age. Still, the 1920s ended on a high. The Circus was a major success, and Chaplin
quickly began work on the film that would become City Lights. By now, though, storm clouds were gathering. Two events were about to happen that would
shake up Chaplin’s world. One in Wall Street, the other in the very
town that had made his fortune. Modern Times (1929-1942)
On October 6, 1927, a little film called The Jazz Singer premiered. The tale of a white Jewish man who blacks
up to becomes a jazz legend, the film would probably be forgotten today, were it not for
one major technical innovation. The Jazz Singer was the first feature film
in American history to feature a synchronized soundtrack. The age of talkies had finally arrived. Famously, silent stars like Chaplin were dismissive
of the new technology. While preparing City Lights, Chaplin claimed
the new fad wouldn’t last six months. There were no such delusions over the next
world shakeup. Two years after The Jazz Singer premiered,
the New York stock market gave a final sigh and collapsed into a pile of broken American
dreams. The wreckage of that fateful day would become
the Great Depression, and it affected everyone. But while the advent of talkies was ruinous
for most silent stars, the Great Depression gave Chaplin’s work a sudden urgency. For Jazz Age audiences, a Tramp with a heart
of gold was as exotic as superheroes are to us today. For filmgoers in the 30s, though, he was the
exact tonic they needed. Despite being a silent anachronism when it
appeared in 1931, City Lights was a standout success. Not that Chaplin enjoyed the accolade. Seemingly depressed by the way the world and
his art form were going, he left the States in 1931 and embarked on a world tour. During this time, the actor met everyone from
Albert Einstein to Mahatma Gandhi. But it was what Chaplin witnessed in Europe
that concerns us today. The rise of automation and nationalism was
fraying the continent at the edges. When Chaplin returned to Hollywood in July
1932, he was obsessed with doing something about these twin evils. On one level, that meant starting work on
Modern Times, his 1936 satire of capitalism. On another, it meant leaning towards politics
for the first time in his life. It meant becoming openly sympathetic to Communism. This radical shift did not go unnoticed. In 1939, Chaplin began shooting his first
real talkie: The Great Dictator. A satire of nationalism in general and Adolf
Hitler in particular, it was made at a time when the US was officially neutral in the
war engulfing Europe. So when the film premiered in 1940 with its
political ending speech, audiences didn’t see the Little Tramp exhorting the end of
a horrific war. They saw a suspected Communist trying to ram
leftwing ideology down their throats. Just one year before, in 1938, the House Un-American
Activities Committee (HUAC for short) had come into existence following a report that
Hollywood was teeming with Reds. Now, Chaplin was confirming their worst suspicions. And, boy, did he ever confirm them. After the attack on Pearl Harbor dragged the
US into WWII, Chaplin became a professional agitator for the Red Army. At an ill-advised speech in New York, he called
Stalin’s purges “a wonderful thing,” and followed up by saying, “the only people
who object to Communism… are the Nazi agents in this country.” In the context of a war in which the US was
allied with the USSR, these comments may have seemed justifiable. But for those who already suspected Chaplin
of anti-Americanism, this was fuel for the fire. By late 1942, prominent media personalities
were questioning Chaplin’s commitment to America. All it would take would be one giant anti-Communist
panic and his reputation could be utterly destroyed. But this was the early 1940s. There was no way America could just be a few
short years away from being consumed in a Red scare. Could there? Monsieur Verdoux (1943 – 1952)
April 11, 1947, is the day Charlie Chaplin lit the fuse on the bomb that destroyed his
career. That day, he released his movie Monsieur Verdoux. A black comedy featuring Chaplin as a serial
killer who marries and murders old ladies for their money, Monsieur Verdoux almost bankrupted
United Artists. It led to Chaplin being blacklisted and nearly
indicted by HUAC. Today, the film is regarded as a late Chaplin
classic. But in 1947? It was the equivalent of watching Mr. Rogers
kick a puppy to death while wearing a swastika. To understand just how Monsieur Verdoux came
to annihilate everything Chaplin held dear, we need to go back in time to 1941. As you’ll probably remember, this was when
Chaplin was just starting to mouth off about how great Stalinism was. It was also when he met a young actress named
Joan Barry. Barry was slightly older than Chaplin’s
previous conquests, being the grand old age of 21 when the 42 year old Chaplin met her. They started an affair, but it wasn’t long
before things got out of hand. In 1943, Barry sued Chaplin for impregnating
and abandoning her. Unfortunately for Chaplin, prosecutors decided
to hit him with everything they had. Chaplin was charged under the 1910 Mann Act,
better known as the White Slave Traffic Act. Designed to stop people taking prostitutes
over state lines, it wound up being so broadly worded that anyone who brought someone to
another state even for consensual sex could be charged. That was exactly what Chaplin had done. The trial was a media circus. The phrase “Charlie Chaplin on trial for
white slavery” was simply too irresistible. While Chaplin was acquitted, the smoke now
billowing around him convinced many there was a dark fire burning behind his public
persona. The thing is, they weren’t wrong. We’ve already heard how atrociously Chaplin
treated the women in his life. And he really was sympathetic to Communism. It also didn’t help that during his trial
he’d started an affair with another 18-year old, Oona O’Neill. But the Barry trial turned everyone on him. Notorious columnist Hedda Hopper joined forces
with FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover to destroy the Little Tramp. In the Senate, William Langer of North Dakota
started advocating for Chaplin’s deportation. As 1947 dawned, Chaplin was in dire need of
a comeback. United Artists was nearly out of money. His reputation was in ruins. What was needed was another City Lights, a
film to remind the public why they loved him. Instead, the public got Monsieur Verdoux,
a film that ends with Chaplin comparing the capitalist system to mass murder and implicating
every single American in war crimes for the atom bombing of Hiroshima. It was the last straw. In Washington, HUAC informed Chaplin he would
likely be subpoenaed. While he never was, the McCarthyites still
destroyed him. That November, 1947, the Hollywood Ten were
jailed for refusing to name and shame other Communists. In the wake of the scandal, 300 more stars
were blacklisted, including Chaplin. Still, Chaplin was Chaplin, which meant he
had money and influence at his disposal that other blacklisted stars didn’t. Even while on the blacklist, he found the
money to crank out Limelight, a part-schmaltzy, part-touching picture about an ageing clown
whose glory days are over. Scheduled for a September, 1952 release, Chaplin
decided to travel to Europe to drum up publicity. On September 18, Chaplin and his now-wife
Oona boarded a ship headed for England. They wouldn’t see America again for two
decades. The next day, the Attorney General cancelled
Chaplin’s reentry visa. Despite being in the US for forty years, the
star had never thought to trade his British passport for an American one. And now America had blocked him from returning. When Limelight was released in the US, it
was picketed by morality crusaders and anti-Communists. No longer welcome in his adopted home, hated
by the America that had once embraced him, Chaplin was suddenly as homeless as the Little
Tramp. His days as the greatest star in Hollywood
were over. The Freak (1953 – 1978)
The rest of Charlie Chaplin’s life can be easily divided into two chapters: the one
where everyone hated him, and the one where they finally accepted him too late. After settling in Switzerland with Oona in
January 1953, Chaplin slowly started working his way into the European film system. In 1957, he released A King in New York, about
a king who flees into asylum in the USA and suffers much of the same persecution that
Chaplin did. Although the script went out of its way to
portray Americans as fundamentally decent, America wasn’t listening. The movie was banned in most states for being
“unamerican”. This disappointment more or less set the stage
for the next decade. At one point, Chaplin considered reviving
the Little Tramp as the lone survivor of a nuclear holocaust, only to instead make 1967’s
A Countess from Hong Kong, a film in which the only gag seems to be Marlon Brando repeatedly
being caught with a nubile young woman in his bedroom. It probably didn’t help that Chaplin’s
health was failing. After a series of strokes across the ‘60s,
he’d been left partially disabled. It was in this sorry state that he started
work on his final project. The Freak was to be Chaplin’s coda. The story of a South American girl who grows
angel wings and becomes hunted and persecuted, it was intended to cap his life’s work. Sadly, it never got made. As the ‘60s became the ‘70s, Chaplin suffered
yet more strokes. By 1974 he was wheelchair bound and in need
of care. Although he shot some test footage for The
Freak, everyone working with him knew the director wouldn’t survive long enough to
get his picture made. On Christmas Day, 1977, Charlie Chaplin suffered
a final, cataclysmic stroke in his sleep and died, aged 88. Despite a brief return to the States five
years earlier to collect an honorary Academy Award, he was still living in exile. Still sure America would never truly want
him back. Normally this would be the point where we
concluded with a quick overview of Chaplin’s life, to try and make some sense of his historical
standing. Not this time. Because fate had one last, ghoulish twist
in store for the Little Tramp. In March, 1978, two refugees from Communist
Eastern Europe dug up Chaplin’s corpse and took it hostage. For the next 11 weeks, Chaplin’s body remained
missing. Finally, in late May, 1978, Swiss police observed
one of the graverobbers trying to call Oona with a ransom demand. He was arrested, and Chaplin’s missing body
located. He was quickly reinterred, this time under
a concrete slab. Awful as this story is, we can’t help thinking
that Chaplin himself may have seen the potential in it. The two graverobbers turned out to be dispossessed
immigrants living on the breadline, who wanted to make some quick cash to support their families. While the Little Tramp never did anything
as desperate as they did, in most other respects his life wasn’t too dissimilar. Maybe we’ve just been researching this video
too long, but you can almost imagine a darker version of Chaplin making this film. Almost picture the Tramp’s oblivious face
as he’s accidentally roped into graverobbing, lured by the promise of money for food. In a way, maybe that’s fitting. Chaplin’s films were some of the very first
that truly sympathized with the poor, with their struggles, their hopes and dreams. Using the magic of cinema, he conjured stories
from their hardscrabble lives… and turned them into masterpieces not just of comedy,
but empathy too. He may have sometimes been cruel, sometimes
foolish, sometimes simply a raging egomaniac. But Charlie Chaplin was also the greatest
clown who ever lived. Tragic as his life was, he succeeded in bringing
joy to millions.

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100 thoughts on “Charlie Chaplin – The Tragic Life of the Little Tramp

  1. I wonder if a half a century after bill cosby has died if someone will make a similar biography and end it muchthe same on an up tick on “tragic as his life was, he did succeed in brining joy to millions”

  2. @Biographics – the reason that the new (August 2019) bio didn't work is that it just didn't have name or profession impact. In 1958 my mom took me and my brother to our first movie experience in Hollywood and it was a Charlie Chaplin revival – the Gold Rush and City Lights. I was spellbound. I never knew about his crap personal life until the late sixties. Those films had enormous impact on me. This is the best bio I have seen on the dude so thank you.

  3. Came wanting to hear about Charlie Chaplin's meteoric rise to stardom, left realizing he was a communist pedophile womanizer. He'd still fit right in with Hollywood today.

  4. Charlie is a mirror image of his dad. They are extremely responsible for their deeds and must pay.
    "God will get you for that. "

  5. His life wasn't tragic he was a piece of s***and everything that you stated about him in this video just further confirms this. I think he got what he deserved

  6. You really challenged my opinion of Chaplin in this. I always admired him even though I knew a few of his dark points. Now, I'm not so sure.

  7. and here i thought charlie chaplin built his career on making fun of the clown in europe. did hitler know he was imitating the clown? anyway, i have no good feelings towards this typical immoral man drunk on material success. he started off poor, tasted wealth and fame, then lost any humility from his heart. a failure.

  8. I have to disagree with some of your conclusions here; Why you would call Citizen Kane the greatest film of all time is beyond me. It tells you nothing about what really makes Kane tick. It also treats the female meant to portray Marion Davis in a shabby way, a view BTW that Welles expressed with in an interview. Amazing technique, but more like a shallow autopsy of a rich man for me. I'd say Rashomon or The Seventh Seal are much more profound films as classics.
    I'm wondering what was the problem with The Great Dictator…it was ahead of it's time in pegging Hitler as dangerous—I must have missed the Stalinistic parts….
    and then in Mousier Verdoux….did I miss the Commie aspect of that very funny Black Comedy? To be clear, I hate Stalin and dictators in general.
    You might know the story of how Chaplin abused his son on the set of Countess from Hong Kong…and when he tried to talk to Brando that way he got in Chaplin's face and said…"don't you ever talk to me the way again…" or something along those line…and he didn't dare. Too bad it was a crap film to boot.

  9. Has anyone else noticed how if anyone was remotely left wing or a communist their darkest side is heavily elaborated upon and exaggerated?

  10. Hollywood was is and most likely always will be Red…What does Hollywood have to do ? Take down the Hollywood sign and replace it with a sign that says "Yes,we are Communists" ?

  11. Have you ever made a video on what you have against Communism? I enjoy your work, but your anti-Communist streak is pretty obvious.

  12. I remember when Chaplin got his honourary 0scar later in his life. Everyone stood and cheered which brought him to tears. Obviously, he was emotionally affected by his banishment from the US. He was as sincere as anyone could be and he couldn't thank them enough.

  13. Citizen Kane is definitely not the greatest film of all time, I have no idea why it gets this title. Maybe the greatest film of 1941.

  14. I just did some research and I have concluded that you guys are a little too sensationalistic for my taste. From the one sided episode on Korea's economics, this video is just a little over the top. Not everything about this man was a fairytale, but you just picked the worst and put some pepper on it. Even going as far as ending the video on a half hearted "faux-two-sided-note" to make it look like you look at thing from different angles and seek to portray fair and honest information. In truth, you exaggerate and spice it up with left out details and slightly tilted vocabulary. You are right inside the uncanny valley of journalism. You make it look like you are fair and objective, but you too are not much more than sensationalist media.

  15. So one of the originators of film and Hollywood was a communist, an abuser of women and a pedophile. Sounds about right.

  16. In the beginning you make it out like it is a sob story. A poor innocent boy who did nothing wrong has the world turn their back on him. Dude was a fucking creep and a pedo. I won't shed a tear for him.

  17. Great Bio. The only thing I can tell you missed was his romantic relationship with Edna Purviance. She was in quite a few of his films.

  18. The great dictator and modern times is the best of his work and I believe relates to the modern day (No pun intended) more than ever!

  19. "…… he was living in exile…" Come on, who lives behind all that crap Chaplin suffered in that country, must consider himself lucky. Poor are those who thinx the USofA are the highest achievement of humanity, instead is showing up to be humanity's darkest hours.
    Nobody can came even close to the tramp, when America will be no more the tramp will be remembered because I think that even God was enjoying watching it.

  20. I don’t know what it is about your face but I just want to slap it and tell you to stop playing up your accent and douchey vocal fry.

  21. How can you prove his father walked out?
    Not all, not all, not all, but most women claim this is the case, when in actual fact they alienate the children when their relationship with the father, sours.
    Seriously you could have easily said " when their relationship ended" instead of demonising the father.

  22. If Chaplin had made a movie about grave robbers, they would have stolen the corpse of a 12 year old girl. Well, maybe.

  23. Loved this video…thank you! Slightly disheartening to find out that, being born in 1975, I was alive when Charlie Chaplin was. He always just seemed so…long ago. I love love love your videos, guys, presenting and research and spats of comedy are brilliant. Thanks again!

  24. 16:37 "we heard how atrociously chappelin treated women and we heard he was sympethatic to communis" you make it sound that both are equally bad

  25. Dropping an atomic bomb on civilians should be considered a war crime. Just another example of how history is written by the victors. Shameful. That being said I hate the fact that Charlie was a communist and pedophil.

  26. Oh so he was a predator of Children says it all really ! Also 16/12 year old girls are not women they are children, it’s sad that so many ppl in the public eye commit the most disgusting things

  27. It really says something about his detractors of the time that they hated him for communism, but not the pedophilia. Nothing has changed among anti-communists in our world.
    That being said, I feel absolutely compelled to say Chaplin is in the bad place for his relationships with women. This is despite all the good he may have done for the common man with his work for communism and in his role of putting a realistic and warm face on the poor. Pedophilia and abuse is unforgivable.

  28. I think both capitalism and communism are stupid in different (and not so different) ways, but i'd ALWAYS choose capitalism over communism.

  29. Chaplin wasn't always a nice person. Had that little man, big star mentality who used women who wanted to be in the movies.

  30. My favorite actor of all time, despite his behavior with women and political stance, he'll always be deserving of the title "greatest clown of all". No one can deny his fame and talent.

  31. The Greatest Escape is probably one of the greatest films ever. I think it really spoke at a time when most, probably more so for Americans at the time pretended that evil existed no too far from their doorsteps.

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