The Unfunny Comic

Five years ago Charlie Chaplin settled with his family, in Switzerland and self-exile, a bitter man. Convinced that he had been persecuted by McCarthyism, Red-liner Chaplin decided to deprive the U.S. of one of the few authentic geniuses produced by the movies. Last week a new Chaplin film, A King in New York, which may never be shown in the U.S., had its world premiere in London. Cries of "Good old Charlie!" and "Isn't he sweet?" greeted Chaplin from a dressy charity crowd in diamonds and dinner jackets. But though the crowd liked Chaplin, it was less than enthusiastic about the movie. Said the Manchester Guardian: "To watch a new Chaplin film without once being made helpless with laughter and without shedding a solitary tear--here is food for tears indeed."

Intended as satire, King's few funny spots are outweighed by shrill invective and heavy-footed propaganda. King Shahdov of Estrovia (Chaplin) arrives in New York seeking refuge from a revolutionary mob. As he chants the praises of American freedom, immigration authorities take his fingerprints. Though the little mustache, baggy pants and cane are gone, flashes of the old Chaplin illuminate the screen as he pokes fun at rock 'n' roll, Hollywood movies ("The Killer with a Soul . . . You'll love him . . . Bring the family"), the wide screen, blaring jazz bands, TV commercials. But before long, a little boy (played by Chaplin's son, Michael, 11) buttonholes the king, and in a semihysterical rage rants about witch-hunting, the atom bomb, freedom ("There's no freedom here . . . They don't give you a passport"). The Committee on Un-American Activities has named the boy's parents as Communists. They have left the party but refuse to finger their friends and are sentenced to two years in prison. Finally, fed up with FBI "persecution" of the boy, the king decides to "sit it out in Europe," suggests as the film ends that the "hysteria" in the U.S. is a passing phase.

A King in New York impressed most critics as being less a labor of love than one of hate. To counteract this general impression, Chaplin told a Foreign Press Association luncheon in London: "I love America even now . . . I made the film for laughter." Unfortunately, Chaplin seems to have forgotten that the most unhumorous thing a humorist can do is to lose his sense of humor.

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