A Dog's Life

A quick-tempo silent treat from Charlie Chaplin's creative heyday. Here he rescues and befriends a perfectly-matched little mutt, personality for miles, to join him in his daily duties: sneaking into bars, swiping free samples from food vendors and sleeping in the fence-shaded dirt of an abandoned lot. That's perfectly ripe ground for Chaplin, who expertly delivers laughs in his own inimitable style, though I do wonder why the pup isn't featured more often. Most times, he's referenced off-screen or written out of the scene entirely, which seems like a wasted opportunity. Still, the sight gags and wind-ups are good enough that we've soon forgotten all about the once-promising tandem act. Not that Chaplin is any stranger to carrying a film on his own. His smoothest scenes - a clever repeat escape from the pesky policeman, a cheeky disappearing act at the expense of the local baker, riotous hand pantomime with a KO'd criminal and his hoodlum buddy - can be seen and adored in a vacuum. They might not be as grand or cohesive as his later features, but these shorter films are a veritable jungle gym for Chaplin's brand of simple, efficient, high-level clowning.