MONSIEUR VERDOUX (84)

Directed by: Charles Chaplin (1947)

Starring: Charles Chaplin, Martha Raye, Marilyn Nash

The Pitch: In 1930s France, a jobless bank clerk turned cold-hearted killer marries and murders middle-aged widows.

Theo Sez: Second viewing (after many years) confirms this as a work of cold, twisted, arrogant genius, proof that Verdoux was the closest Chaplin ever came to playing himself. Structure is all over the place, and we don't even get much sense of detail about our anti-hero's "business" (e.g. how he manages to "clean up" so efficiently after each murder) - his alleged brilliance as a criminal must be taken on trust. Like his aloof protagonist Chaplin isn't interested in the hard-won believability of ordinary movies - but anyone who dismisses this for not being like ordinary movies will be missing out on something unique, totally original and endlessly fascinating. For one thing, though the order of scenes may be haphazard, each scene in itself is meticulously done, with even functional bits livened up by memorable detail (like the druggist's fat, bored wife in the back of the shot as he talks to Verdoux), and the farcical / slapstick scenes (notably the aborted wedding) choreographed with cold precision. "Cold" - much more than "funny" - is the operative word here, which is quite appropriate as this is the story of a man who freezes his heart in the name of making money. Long before the nihilism of his final speeches it's clear that Verdoux - a dapper, preening little man in Chaplin's brave, note-perfect performance - has turned his back on life : his scenes with the waif - especially their meeting in the street, squelching her warmth with "Go on about your business" - have a chilling sense of soul-weariness. That this exemplar of post-war disillusionment wears the expressions of the Little Tramp gives the film an extra dimension, making it as much about Chaplin's - and America's, though America refused to accept it - journey from optimistic 30s populism to cynical 40s despair (from Capra to film noir, you might say). It's no wonder the Cold War broke out a couple of years later : with the world in this kind of mood, rabid ideology must at least have seemed a kind of refuge.