"Any resemblance between Hynkel the dictator and the Jewish barber is purely coincidental"

Rating: 8/10 (10 April 2010)

"Desperate times calls for desperate measures" goes the saying, so it is fitting that the second world war and its concentration of some of the most inhumane atrocities in human history yielded one of cinema's most overt and audacious political satires as response. The roots of legendary comic mastermind Charlie Chaplin's decision to lampoon looming Nazi dictator Adolf Hitler allegedly stemmed from his outraged discovery that Hitler had imitated Chaplin's own 'Little Tramp' moustache for the sake of acquiring an iconic image, provoking Chaplin to ridicule Hitler's own image in the same way he felt his own had been defiled - a fascinating case of art imitating life imitating art. And one cannot overstate the role of Chaplin's The Great Dictator, raising awareness of the atrocities of Nazi Germany to largely unaware overseas audiences as courageously as it sends up the man figure-heading the conflict. Nonetheless, there remains an interesting process of collective cultural memory in which the quality of the actual piece is considered synonymous with its historical impact or relevance, and Chaplin's wartime satire is no exception. As such, while unquestionably still a very strong film in its own right, on contemporary examination, while The Great Dictator is unquestionably one of the most important films of all time, sadly it cannot also claim the title as one of the best.
While Chaplin is notorious for obsessive perfectionism, one gets the sense that with The Great Dictator his mind was more occupied with its socio-political relevance than its construction as a film. Predicated on parallelling the lives of fanatical Hitler surrogate Adenoid Hynkel and the stand-in Tramp figure, a shell-shocked Jewish barber (both played by Chaplin), the intercutting between narrative strands feels awkward and uncomfortable, both requiring too much exposition to blend seamlessly together. Equally, the film on the whole feels unnecessarily drawn out, its two hour running time consistently lagging through overextended gags (as unforgettable as the two main comedic set pieces - Hynkel impishly playing with an inflated globe and the farcical battles for dominance between Hykel and Mussolini surrogate Nappolini - are, both run past the point of remaining truly funny) and frequent patches of 'dead time' which are neither comedic nor serve to further the plot (the extended WW1 opening sequence feels largely unnecessary). Similarly, banking the narrative on a highly contrived climax (the barber being mistaken for Hynkel) makes the entire film feel somewhat forced, also detracting from the enjoyment. However, the main concern is that the film, for lack of a better term, simply isn't that funny, with the general tone pitched uncertainly between pantomime silliness and sympathetic reverence and thus functioning as neither as enjoyable or proactively poignant as it could have been.
Despite the film's essential function of raising audience awareness of the devastating cruelty inflicted by the Nazis, there remains the feel of Chaplin soft-pedalling the inhumanities depicted, whether for the sake of not overly upsetting audiences or due to legal concerns, but either way lessening the film's potential impact. Equally, Chaplin's infamous ending monologue remains a source of eternal contention, yet no matter how ham-handed a disruption of the narrative or excessively saccharine, there remains a tremendous power and resonance in his earnest words, serving as a fitting message for hope in the midst of a time sorely lacking in it. Finally, the film's hefty production values (despite the discordant presence of some obviously fake sets) ably elucidates the absurd opulence of the Nazi propaganda displays in a more tastefully subtle (and thereby more effective) fashion.
As with the majority of Chaplin's films, the true joy is to be found in the performance(s) of the man himself. In fact, the real shame is that Chaplin resisted the temptation to drink in his own antics more, as his Hitler impersonation is a comedic triumph, each bout of mangled German profanities, enraged flared nostrils and over-important strutting a wonder to behold, and his Jewish barber nostalgically recalls the best of the Tramp (though both characters sharing Chaplin's never before heard reedy voice feels another piece of poor planning). It comes as somewhat of a shame that Chaplin generally pitches for the obvious humour, rather than allowing for more unorthodox moments to breathe life into the picture: one of the most hilarious points in the film is a throwaway moment when Hynkel, hurrying between appointments, stumbles and staggers across a sumptuously decorated hallway - an exquisite moment of slapstick belying the humanity beneath, and ultimately a more effective method of undermining Hitler's steely persona. Apart from the star's dual roles, the majority of the cast feel too sombre and straight faced to infuse much of interest into the film, though Paulette Goddard rekindles the feisty warmth and spunkiness she displayed in Modern Times and Jack Oakie appealingly tramples the scenery with a deliciously campy Mussolini impression.
While more problematic as a film than its reputation suggests, Chaplin's The Great Dictator remains a timeless testament to the power and importance of satire and film's potential to function as a vehicle for urgent social commentary and information. Despite being one of the lesser Chaplin efforts as a film, its vibrant daring is one of a variety simply not attempted by contemporary cinema, making the film worth experiencing by itself.
-8.5/10