Better At Visuals Than Words

I've been looking at Charlie Chaplin's redundantly titled My Autobiography. It came out in the 1960s, when his film career was all but over. He'd been, arguably, the biggest celebrity of the 20th century. He had a lot of great stories to tell, which is why the book is so disappointing. Here's a chance to find out from this great actor and Hollywood pioneer how he created his character and all those wonderful films.

Oh, he tells us some of those stories. But he picks and chooses. I'm not denying in a life filled with incident that he has to leave some goodies out. The guy was a worldwide star in his mid-20s. He knew everybody and was productive most of his life. But Chaplin seems more interested in telling us about all the great people he met, and the interesting conversations he had, than about how he came up with some of the greatest entertainment--and art--ever.

He'll spend four pages talking about his friendship with Albert Einstein. Fine, but then he'll only spend four pages talking about how he created a masterpice like The Gold Rush.

He also had odd lapses. I can understand not wanting to talk about certain scandals, but there are wives who are dismissed with a sentence or two. And he doesn't talk at all about the making of The Circus.

On the other hand, we do get to hear his musings on political issues. Chaplin was a guy who took himself too seriously. The Tramp would know what to do--kick him in the pants.