I had seen only two Charlie Chaplin movies that were not even partly silent: The Great Dictator and Limelight. They were about on par with his silents, so I wanted to see a hit that came out in between them. Well, sort of a hit. It bombed at the box office and got little U.S. appreciation when new, but it enjoys high marks across rating sites now. Chaplin himself had an extra high opinion of it.
In what I take to be 1930s France, albeit with 1940s fashions and only the star attempting a French accent, Henri Verdoux (Chaplin), a laid-off banker, cannot find similar work. His solution is to travel frequently, assume several aliases, court several women, and mooch off or steal from them -- and murder them one way or another when he thinks it'll help him get away with theft. He's not above offing anyone else who stands in his way, either. But he weaves a tangled web and can sustain only so much luck....
If the bluebeard scenario (based loosely on a real one from the 1910s) brings to mind The Night of the Hunter, let me assure you that this is no thriller. Verdoux is never played for scares, only drama and laughs. You need a pretty dark sense of humor for the latter, tho. It helps a little that not many successful murders transpire between the first scene and the last. A contemporary poster also lists romance, but come on.
What makes Verdoux interesting is his dichotomy. If you didn't know about his ruthless spree, you could easily believe he was a nice fellow. Perhaps he was once, as evidenced by his one long-term wife and son, who have no idea of his real "job" that keeps him away so long. He does show compassion to animals, partly via vegetarianism. He even decides to spare a woman he's come to like too much.
If the Orson Welles tag confuses you, know that he wrote the bulk of the story. (The credits thank him only for the "idea," but he was content with that.) This would explain why Chaplin's character, while unemployed, has never been further from The Tramp. (Chaplin's effeminate coy pose takes on a new feeling when the innocence is so false.) It also explains the unsettling nature of the plot, which barely passed under the Hays Code.
The most controversial part comes in the last few scenes, when Verdoux opines that what he does isn't nearly as bad as the business of war, by which he means both encouragement to go to war and the manufacture of high-grade weapons. Ordinarily, we might dismiss a moral lecture from an unrepentant serial killer, but here it reflects Chaplin's own view. Pretty disappointing if the guy who had been ahead of the curve in warning of the threat posed by Hitler believed post-war that the U.S. had no justified role in WWII. I can see why he fell under the McCarthy lens.
I do not agree with Chaplin's assessment of MV as his "cleverest and most brilliant film." It may have taken a little more intellect than usual, but it doesn't stand above the rest. It certainly doesn't touch us most deeply.
Nevertheless, if you can get past the shock of Chaplin playing an unconscionable felon in a focal capacity, you're in for an engaging time. It might just be worth the 124 minutes.
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