The contributions Charles Chaplin made to cinema can never be underestimated – whether in his early days as one of the most prominent stars of the early Hollywood era, to his later years as an established filmmaker in his own right, Chaplin’s work was always impeccable and made by someone who had a genuine fondness for his craft. Few actors have been able to equally dominate both the silent and sound era without any hesitation, and he stands as arguably the most recognizable actor from both eras, someone whose iconic visage and style of filmmaking has transcended global and generational boundaries. However, as tempting as it is to refer to films like City Lights, The Great Dictator or Modern Times as his greatest work, Chaplin’s finest hour as both a director and actor came slightly later in the form of Monsieur Verdoux, his bewildering dark comedy about a charming bourgeois dandy who has made a small fortune through marrying and murdering a range of wealthy elderly widows, which started as a way of supporting his disabled wife and young son, but eventually became something of an obsession. On the surface, it seems like an unconventional sojourn for an actor and director more known for lighter, more endearing fare – but its deeply unsympathetic, but undeniably hilarious, demeanour makes for a thrilling and enticing dark comedy that gives Chaplin the chance to go above and beyond anywhere he had been before, proving that his talents were far more diverse than his detractors and those cynical to his place in film history may have been able to comprehend.

Referring to Monsieur Verdoux as his magnum opus is often seen as a controversial choice, especially since it was seen as such a radical departure for Chaplin, who momentarily put his iconic persona of The Little Tramp away, and embraced a very different kind of character, one that is drawn from a very unlikely source. The film is based on the true story of Henri Désiré Landru, a notorious criminal who is often considered the real-life Bluebeard, as a result of his tendency to romance wealthy women and kill them in order to take their fortune. Taking his cue from a series of conversations with the great Orson Welles, who had an inherent interest in the subject and aimed to cast Chaplin in a film based on the real-life character (albeit structuring it as more of a drama, with the decision to turn this story into a “comedy of murders” being solely attributed to Chaplin), the director pulls together several unforgettable scenes that are woven together into this pseudo-biography of one of history’s most twisted and perverted serial killers, rendered here as a lovable rapscallion under Chaplin’s well-regarded penchant for making even the most despicable characters seem entertaining. It doesn’t cross the boundary of decency (since it only loosely based Henri Verdoux on the far more abhorrent Landru, and somewhat defends his actions as being the result of needing to support his wife and child), but it does make sure that it never quite lets the character off the hook, leading to a polarizing but beautiful conclusion that may be unsettling, but serves a greater purpose.

Chaplin’s work is often known for its effervescence, with his mastery of slapstick comedy and ability to always find heartwarming sentimentality in the most unexpected places making his films cherished across every generation that have been able to witness his incredible talents. Yet, he was not against tackling some slightly darker material, some of which have gone beyond the confines of his films to cultural moments in their own right (the final speech in The Great Dictator is undeniably one of the greatest moments in 20th-century art) – and much of this is present in Monsieur Verdoux, which is quite possibly Chaplin’s most bleak film. Those expecting wall-to-wall hilarity are likely going to be taken by surprise – the film is exceptionally funny (and Chaplin even manages to insert a few brief moments of slapstick, reminding us that he is still the same eccentric filmmaker capable of using his incredible physicality for the sake of humour), but it has a darker side that gradually begins to envelop the more upbeat aspects, especially as we see the main character gradually fall victim to his own deception and forced to pay for his actions. In fact, the film’s conclusion, where Verdoux is led to the guillotine to be executed for his crimes, comes as a bit of a shock to viewers, who have likely been conditioned to seeing protagonists of these films getting away with murder (which would’ve been quite literal in this case). The film is not afraid to lean into the more harrowing aspects of the story, which does come as a surprise for those who may have thought that this will be a delightfully irreverent comedy with a hint of caustic wit surrounding the taboo subject of murder. Instead, Monsieur Verdoux is a complex and hauntingly dark satire that uses humour to bewilder and betray reality, which makes for a suitably fascinating, but also quite disturbing, viewing experience.

In considering Chaplin’s work, several of his silent films demonstrate progressive techniques that were not only far ahead of their time, but set the standard for over a century of filmmaking – but in terms of acting, Monsieur Verdoux may contain Chaplin’s best work in terms of expanding on his gifts as an actor. His gift may have been in his physicality, but even when we mostly remove those from his arsenal, he is still exceptionally talented enough to carry the film, based solely on his ability to develop a character. In playing the titular role, he is able to handle the two sides of the character, highlighting his very charismatic qualities, but not at the expense of showcasing his villainy. One of the most admirable decisions made by this film was not to portray the titular character as someone who was entirely justified in his actions – it does attempt to shade him in so that he is not perceived as entirely without merit, but it outright refuses to give Verdoux the moment of heroism that many would expect from such a film. There are a few moments where he shows immense humanity (which may mislead us into thinking he’s actually a good person), but these exist solely to show that he is not derived from pure evil, and that beneath the murderous psychopathy, there’s a heart that beats with some kind of compassion, just not for those who he views as being worthy of being murdered. Verdoux is not a naughty rascal, but a cold-blooded killer, and as tempting as it would be to perceive him as the latter (especially since Chaplin is such a captivating screen presence), it would ultimately serve to betray the reality of the story, which extends far deeper than just seeing a meticulously charming murderer getting away with his crimes, taking it from an upbeat comedy to something far more sobering.

Monsieur Verdoux is a truly terrific film – it is as darkly disturbing as it is hilarious, and is certainly the most unsettling of the 1940s comedies that exist at the perfect intersection between sophistication and cold-blooded murder (one can recall films like Unfaithfully Yours and Kind Hearts and Coronets that similarly make use of murder as a means to progress one’s place in society or get revenge for previous obstacles). It carries itself with a certain elegance that feels almost misplaced, since the story itself is insidious and disconcerting, but also feels so thoroughly entertaining, we find ourselves encountering conflicting sensations. As a whole, Monsieur Verdoux is one of the more fascinating films of the era, one that has many different ideas interwoven through a relatively straightforward story, and through actively engaging with themes that were not only uncommon at the time, but openly discouraged (since studios likely felt that having someone as cherished as Chaplin play such a despicable character after decades of his beloved Tramp would be career suicide – mercifully he was not in favour at the time, so he could evade such conversations), the film establishes a consistently bleak but bewildering tone that piques our curiosity and informs us of the depths to which the film is willing to descend for the sake of social and cultural commentary, which is something that Chaplin did better than most of his contemporaries as a result of his own grasp on the major issues of the time, which is precisely the reason Monsieur Verdoux manages to be both a vibrant and irreverent comedy, and one of the most harrowing stories of crime ever committed to film.