The opening twenty minutes of Modern Times are rightfully placed in the pantheon of great comedic sequences and remains one of the greatest and the funniest extended segments in the silent cinema.  Chaplin’s slapstick humor has almost always come from a combination of his bodily contortions and the way they are played against his environment.  With Modern Times, Chaplin himself becomes the instrument of protest, his body redefined and reconfigured to meet the increasing stresses of capitalist society, literally becoming an expendable gear in the factory machine.  Chaplin’s humor, as he begins to twitch uncontrollably before his mind temporarily turns to mush, is so miraculous here because the social commentary is engrained in the slapstick – the absurdity in direct lineage to the exorbitant demands of the social system.

From the initial commentary on the rise of mechanization and the dehumanization of the worker, Chaplin expands the film to a full critique of Depression Era United States and the systematic oppression he saw occurring at the time.  The romance between he and Paulette Godard may be a tad underdeveloped, but it serves its purpose as the two attempt to rise from their troubled pasts only to find themselves constantly pushed back into prison and vagrancy.  To see a mainstream American film deal with class issues with such unflinching candor and in such an up-front manner is quite remarkable – this was obviously always the case with Chaplin’s tramp character, but he never so blatantly and angrily challenged the inherent class inequities as he does here – especially considering the times and that now, such a perspective couldn’t make it within 10 miles of megaplex.

As per usual with Chaplin’s classics, the balance of love story and comedy is pitch-perfect, yet nary a moment feels extraneous as he carefully ties every angle into a grandiose statement that stands up to the lofty title bestowed upon the film.  And not to suggest this film is in any way underrated, but the complexity behind its commentary is too easily dismissed as naïve or overly simplistic when it is so beautifully weaved into every aspect of the film and delivered with such passion without detracting from the humor or stepping outside the film (Great Dictator’s final speech, I’m looking at you).  Chaplin’s sentimental side certainly shines brighter in City Lights, but Modern Times showcases his incomparable ability to use comedy as a vehicle for social change and evoke laughter and compassion in same breath.