When you are dealing with someone who is widely considered not only one of the most widely celebrated actors and directors in the history of the film industry, but a cultural institution onto himself, an icon that is perhaps the most globally recognized icon in terms of cinema (outside of perhaps Marilyn Monroe), then it’s difficult to discern what their very best work is, especially when their entire career was the foundation to the following century in filmmaking. Charlie Chaplin is a name so synonymous with a high calibre of work, just the very mention of his career – even if only in passing – adds gravitas to any conversation. For decades, there has been a ferocious debate around condensing half a century of work into a single film, the one example that supposedly represents everything that made Chaplin so iconic – there have been persuasive arguments for City Lights and Modern Times (both of which are beyond brilliant), while some have veered towards his later works, others preferring his earlier films that may have been considerably shorter than his more recognizable masterpieces, but still manage to be astonishing in their own right. Ultimately, there isn’t any definitive answer – nearly all of his work is exceptional in some way, and it’s just a matter of preference. My taste has always aligned with one film in particular, which is coincidentally widely regarded as being one of his most important works, and a watershed moment for the director who would go on to be defined by so many of his unique characteristics – and it often emerges in conversations around his greatest work, both for its pure innovation, and the fact that it contains every bit of heart and humour that made Chaplin’s films so extraordinarily timeless and compelling. It may not reach the impossible heights of some of his more canonical films, but The Gold Rush will always remain one of the director’s most important works, and its status only continues to ascend as more viewers come to spend a bit of time with these characters, witnessing their exploits that are both thrilling and entertaining, which is part-and-parcel of nearly every film Chaplin ever put together.

Absolutely everything that made Chaplin such an important and inventive director can be found scattered throughout The Gold Rush, which is a film that is entirely built around his status as one of the pioneers of auteur-driven comedy, where he was actively involved in every aspect of his films, joining the likes of Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton as more than just rubber-faced comedians known for their physical prowess and extraordinary expressivity, but fully-formed artists that understood, despite being designed primarily to entertain and stir laughter, that comedy is a very serious business, especially considering its immense popularity. Choosing between them is a fool’s errand, since they’re all brilliant in their own way, and placing them in opposition to one another would be misguided (Chaplin would be the first to admit this – after all, he did feature Keaton quite prominently in one of his greatest works, his unofficial swan song Limelight), but there has always been something so enigmatic about Chaplin, despite the fact that he was one of the few silent-era icons who successfully assimilated into the sound period, and was always the embodiment of candour when talking about his work. However, the image of this troublesome little tramp traversing so many different environments, seemingly existing outside of any form of logic, has pervaded film culture in a way that is beyond impressive – and its The Gold Rush that sees some of the character’s most memorable exploits. There may not be setpieces and sequences as iconic as those that were to come (although what we do see is nothing short of remarkable – some of these sequences are exceptional), but it laid the foundation for so many of Chaplin’s later masterworks, each one a precise and meaningful voyage into one of comedy’s greatest minds.

Something that is always worth remembering about the silent era is that, despite being very clearly dated by virtue of their lack of audible dialogue, many silent films are amongst the most cherished, timeless works of art to which we have access – there is a quality about them that often allows them to transcend so many boundaries and become embraced by any viewer that is willing to be put under their spell. There is something so profoundly hypnotic about the visual landscapes of these films, regardless of the environment in which they take place – so one can only imagine the excitement at seeing Chaplin not only directing a story inspired by a very famous era in American history, but setting it in Alaska during the Klondike Gold Rush, which was entirely new territory for any comedy, trading in recognizable cities and locales for a more rural setting, which presented new challenges, but reaped substantial rewards. Obviously, this film could never have been filmed on location (even from a contemporary standpoint, it seems perilous to even consider the idea of risking the bitter winters and all of its dangers for the sake of making a film), so the fact that The Gold Rush was filmed entirely on sets that were so convincingly designed to resemble the wintry landscapes of 19th century Alaska, is a marvel in itself. How Chaplin and his cohorts managed to so effectively construct an environment that even makes viewers nearly a century later genuinely believe that these characters are trodding through the snowcaps of the near-Arctic is astonishing. Add onto this the fact that Chaplin utilizes every inch of this setting for the sake of his comedic pursuits (with some unforgettable sequences – most notable the image of his cabin moving through the snow and teetering dangerously close on the edge of a mountain, which constitutes the film’s climactic moments), and we find so much astounding value in every frame of The Gold Rush, a film that is stunningly gorgeous, despite never needing to achieve such a level of creativity in its design, which becomes one of the most memorable aspects of this film as a whole.

Chaplin was nothing if not thoroughly dedicated to ensuring that his films were both visually and narratively as perfect as they could be, but his primary focus was on the emotional content of his stories. It is not uncommon to find his films running the gamut of emotions, oscillating between outrageously funny and deeply melancholy – this is mainly achieved through the use of characters that act as either adversaries or love interests to the main characters, each one developed to play a substantial role in the development of the story, particularly the latter, as they tend to form the emotional hinge of the film, and play a major part in their eventual resolution. The perfect calibration between comedy and drama is what propels these films to an entirely new level of existence – there’s so much elegance and nuance in how Chaplin approaches his stories, and every intimate detail is well-formed and meaningful, with the humour drawn from the physical comedy contrasting sharply with the romantic melodrama that may not drive the film, but is still a significant component of the narrative, which benefits massively from the director’s very precise approach to storytelling. Chaplin grounds the film in a way that he is able to effectively stretch logic without it becoming excessive – his approach is one that can lend itself to extravagance, but it never feels like it is solely about the spectacle, and some of the funniest moments arrive in the smaller-scale aspects of the film, where Chaplin draws our attention to some small detail or otherwise inconsequential element that feels like it exists solely to move the story forward, when in reality these are some of the more fascinating components of the story. The Gold Rush compresses dozens of brilliant jokes into its relatively short running time, and every one of them feels essential and meaningful, well-formed in terms of either being a satirical jab at capitalism (which was at its apex at this point) or a masterclass in slapstick humour, a style that Chaplin not only mastered, but helped define.

I don’t think there is any film that best represents Chaplin’s style, intelligence and astonishing directorial prowess than The Gold Rush, a film that took a short while to be fully embraced in the same way as his more cherished works, but which has attained a status that is very much representative of the director’s reputation, remaining one of his greatest achievements. There are few experiences more rewarding than seeing Chaplin in his element, and his performance here is almost as good as his direction of the material – he is so thoroughly committed to every element of the storyline, and it shows in each frame of the film, where every moment is essential and complex, while still maintaining an atmosphere of recklessly entertaining fun, which is contrasted by the growing sense of bittersweet melancholy that slowly starts to enter the film as the story progresses. The Gold Rush is undeniably one of Chaplin’s masterpieces – on both a narrative and visual level, it is an absolute marvel, a daring and meaningful voyage through a very specific moment in the past, handcrafted by one of the greatest artists of his (or any) generation, spending every moment developing on a simple but effective premise that is both meaningful and blisteringly funny. Heartfelt but with that sardonic edge that became so indicative of Chaplin’s oeuvre, The Gold Rush is an absolute masterpiece, a charming manifesto on a number of concepts, most of them relating to the director’s fervent admiration for the past, which he seamlessly blends with his modern approach to storytelling, crafting a magnificent film that feels both sprawling and intimate, which is a combination that can never be underestimated, especially not when dealing with arguably the most important comedic director of his generation, and someone whose influence remains indelible in modern cinema, regardless of style, genre or narrative approach – and all because he was willing to take a few risks, which amount to true gems like this film, which only further buttresses any argument about his status in the industry and its subsequent history.