Charlie Chaplin's famously prescient tear-down of Adolf Hitler and Nazi Germany, filmed at the very outset of the second world war (England actually vowed to ban the film due to an early policy of Nazi appeasement, though their attitude flipped before opening day) and released before anyone really understood the height of the German atrocities. Chaplin himself would later express a certain degree of remorse, admitting he never would've made the picture if he'd known just how far the Nazis had gone.

It's an important film, certainly an emphatically heartfelt one, and an astoundingly timely message, but it's also plagued with minor quibbles. A handful of conceptually proficient cornerstone scenes, genuine big-screen magic, are good enough to enhance the whole act. Chaplin's mesmerizing bubble dance with an inflatable globe, as a shining example. A cheeky shave-and-a-haircut routine, expertly timed to match the Brahms playing on a grainy box radio. His passionate, enduring speech at the film's climax, eyes locked upon the camera, which still rings, honest and true, in today's combative social climate.

At the best of times it's a brilliant example of all Chaplin could offer as an entertainer; a perfect mix of silent film pantomime, well-timed musical accompaniment and passionate, assertive rhetoric. At other points, he clearly struggles with the urge to do what he's always done. To cast aside modern soundtrack demands and merely focus on telling the story through sheer physical poetry. Apart from those few radiant examples, his instinct doesn't come as naturally as it once did. Not every scene works. The plot jerks along in stops and starts. As the film's running time grows cumbersome, we miss essential scraps of story, cutting straight to the finish before each piece is properly aligned. Though Chaplin's noble Jewish barber ultimately gets his moment in the sun, his alternate role as the scheming Hitler-lite despot is hardly served a well-deserved comeuppance.

_The Great Dictator_, essentially Chaplin's last bow as an international icon, gives us much to appreciate, and much to ponder, but a wobbly structure and off-kilter rhythm leaves a lot of its seething, righteous cinematic power unrealized.