Sheer cinematic perfection does exist, and it comes in the form of The Circus, which is quite simply one of the greatest pieces of cinema ever produced. My reverence for Charlie Chaplin has been well-documented, and in both my personal and professional life, I tend to draw a lot of inspiration from his work. His timeless statement that “a day without laughter is a day wasted” is a perfect guideline for living each day in a way that is defined by joy. In a lengthy career that had its origins towards the beginning of the industry’s infancy to the precipice of New Hollywood, Chaplin changed the way we view the world, and while films like City Lights and Modern Times are extraordinary, none of them reached the impossible heights that he did with The Circus, which is undeniably one of his defining works, and perhaps the film that best represents both his skills and ambitions, which are fully encapsulated in this absolute delight of a comedy, which finds him pushing boundaries that many may not have realize even existed at the time, and which served to position him as one of the great silent era comedians who changed the way comedy functions, creating a complex and engaging portray of the human condition through humour and pathos that is quintessentially his own, and led to generations of exceptional work from all of those who were inspired by his bespoke and daring approach to the filmmaking process, all of which is perfectly encapsulated in absolutely every frame of this film, which remains arguably his greatest, most earnest achievement, at least in terms of how it challenges conventions in daring and compelling ways, and had the sheer audacity to venture where most films would never dare to go, at least not with this level of commitment to the narrative process.

The very act of waxing poetic about Chaplin as either a writer or director seems almost hopelessly redundant – not only is his genius almost universally acknowledged, he is perhaps the most recognizable performer in the history of cinema (with perhaps only Marilyn Monroe being comparable in terms of sheer iconography), so there has never been a need to place him on a pedestal since he has resided on the highest shelf for over a century now, and his legacy only becomes stronger as time progresses. However, as is often the case with iconic performers, we allow our perception of their work to cloud the actual merits that accompany them, which does a great disservice, since it becomes more about honouring the legacy as some holistic, static entity rather than acknowledging just how dynamic and unique their work was on an individual level. The Circus contains so much of Chaplin’s most exciting and exhilarating ideas, and possibly his greatest performance as an actor, which is certainly not a statement that comes very easily, considering his stunning body of work. The film occupies that peculiar position in between the short comedy films that he made from the start of his career until the end of the silent era, and the period in which he became more experimental in terms of both form and content. However, the quality of his performance remains the same – some of his best stunts and sight gags are present here, and his work as an actor, both in the comedic and dramatic moments, is absolutely spellbinding, and we easily fall under the spell of his iconic Little Tramp yet again, with every moment he is on screen in The Circus feeling like yet another piece of evidence towards his extraordinary gifts as an actor. Anyone who wants to see precisely why Chaplin remains one of the most magnetic screen presences in the history of cinema should witness the sheer might of his performance in this film, which is (at least in my view) his best work as an actor.

However, there is so much more to Chaplin’s work than his performances, and we find that there are many elements that often go unnoticed when discussing his work, despite it being extremely important to how they were developed. The reason Chaplin’s films are widely considered some of the greatest in the history of cinema is purely based on the sheer artistry present in all of them, and how they navigate that ambigious territory between the visual and the narrative. The Circus contains some of the most impressive work Chaplin ever did in terms of both the story and the visual components, which are brought to life in vivid detail. The sheer visual spectacle that this film becomes is remarkable – from its first moments when the enigmatic and nameless love interest (portrayed beautifully by Merna Kennedy, immediately becoming one of the most poignant female leads in any of Chaplin’s films) swings on a trapeze over the circus ring. At the same time, Chaplin’s voice, which was not widely-heard at that point, croons the hauntingly beautiful melody “Swing Little Girl”, which establishes the tone of the film long before we even encounter the first plot detail. The film is filled to the brim with fascinating and brilliant images that are carefully handcrafted by a director whose fervent attention to detail shines through in absolutely every frame, which elevates the ideas that define the film with incredible precision. There is not a single shot wasted throughout this film, and we find ourselves growing steadily more entranced and bewitched by this film, which proves to be quite an extraordinary achievement, particularly in terms of the central ideas that drive the story and make it so incredibly compelling.

However, the quality that makes Chaplin’s work so incredibly endearing is that he makes films that seem simple in theory, but have much deeper meanings, most of it emerging from closer and more measured readings of their stories. In the case of The Circus, it is easy to mistake it as nothing but a series of slapstick moments tied together by a common theme, in this case, the beloved Tramp making his way into the circus, which serves to be the setting for his hilarious misadventures. Only a superficial reading of this film can yield such a limited belief since the reason why it feels so rich and poignant comes through in the underlying message, which gradually makes its way to the surface as it develops and becomes something much more complex. The Circus is a film about outsiders – it’s not quite Tod Browning’s Freaks insofar as it centres on the most rejected and marginalized communities as its central theme, but it does use the idea of the circus, particularly as a tribe of enchanted nomads who are perpetually on the move, as its main propellant. The appeal of the Tramp character is that he is both flexible and stubborn in various ways, in the sense that he is ambigious enough to fit into just about any setting, but not enough of a chameleon to fully fit in, which is not only the source of a lot of the humour, but also the pathos. There is a lingering melancholy that exists beneath this film, which is shown through the love story that begins to flourish between the protagonist and his love interest, who are positioned as star-crossed lovers destined to never be together as a result of their differences. It’s in these more tender moments that we find The Circus being so much more engaging in ways that are certainly very surprising, especially for those who just associate Chaplin with off-the-wall comedy, rather than nuanced, balanced works that combine humour and pathos in equal measure.

There is a concept that exists in literature known as the “slapstick tragedy”, a vague term without a clear definition. Still, rather one built on a particular work of art having a certain essence, which is formed through the tone and story, as well as the more practical aspects. The Circus is perhaps the most celebrated example of this concept since we have rarely seen a work of fiction that is simultaneously so funny and heartfelt in equal measure, oscillating between emotions but never losing its firm grasp on its central ideas. It’s a wonderful, compelling and genuinely entertaining film – it veers off in several different directions and is constantly trying to find new ways to tell this story without abandoning the core of what makes it so special in the first place. It’s this aspect that makes it one of Chaplin’s greatest achievements – he was staying true to his intentions as an artist, but still being beyond willing to actively try new ideas, which correlates to the direction in which the industry was heading. There is a reason why Chaplin is one of the few Silent era comedians who had a fruitful career in the sound era, precisely because he was used to changing from the start, and his work as an actor and director was always about adapting to various challenges, which proved to be the foundation of decades of exceptional, beautiful and hilarious work. The Circus is one of Chaplin’s crowning achievements, and perhaps the best introduction to his work for newcomers, as well as a poignant celebration for those who are already enamoured with his work. In no uncertain terms, The Circus is one of Chaplin’s greatest achievements, and the very definition of a masterpiece, a term I have rarely used with more conviction than at the present moment, deciding that this grandiose label is the only appropriate way to describe this astonishing and beautiful work of pure cinematic artistry.