All language subtitles for ITV.Perspectives.2015.In.Charlie.Chaplins.Footsteps.720p.HDTV.x264.AAC.MVGroup.org.eng

(LAUGHS)

'For as long as I can remember,
I've had a love of silent comedies,

from the era of
Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd,

and of course, Charlie Chaplin.'

The timing is so good on this.
(LAUGHS)

'I know his films by heart,
I've seen them so many times.'

He's chatting
the policeman's wife up.

'They are as funny to me now
as when I first saw them.'

Look at this brilliant moment
when the hands get swapped.

The policeman grabs him.

(CHUCKLES)

'As a comedy writer and director,

I can see what brilliant technique
he had.

But I've always thought that there
was more to Chaplin than this.

To me he's the greatest comic genius
of the 20th century.'

It's just genius.

'He went from the workhouse to being
the most famous man on the planet.

He made a staggering 82 films in
total, spanning a period of 53 years.

I have been given access to
a wealth of Chaplin home movies

and personal archive,

which gives a new and powerful
insight into this driven character.

I can see his flaws.

His private life
was mired in controversy.

But it never got in the way of
the unceasing flow of ideas and films

that came out of him.

This is the Chaplin
I want to go in search of.'

"This was the London of my childhood.

Of my moods and awakenings.

Memories of Lambeth in the spring,

of riding with Mother
on top of a horse bus,

of melancholy Sundays
and pale-faced parents

and their children escorting
toy windmills and coloured balloons

over Westminster Bridge.

And the maternal penny steamers

that softly lowered their funnels
as they glided under it."

"From such trivia
I believe my soul was born."

'For me, the key to Chaplin's art
is in his extraordinary childhood.

What happened in his first ten years.

Incredibly,
there's no official record

of the birth of one of London's
most famous sons.

But Chaplin was convinced
he was born in 1889,

not far from East Street Market
in South London.'

Charlie Chaplin's mother Hannah
and his father Charles Chaplin

were both singers
in the Victorian music halls.

They could be found in every city and
large town throughout the country.

All the programmes to us now
are just so lovely to look at. Yes.

I like The Musical Macaronis.
(LAUGHS)

"The Musical Macaronis.

This marvellous party of
Viennese musicians

play upon the most extraordinary
variety of instruments

ever seen in this country."

What was so wonderful
in those days of course

was that when you were an act
in the music hall

there were so many other acts
that you saw.

You had to wait in the wings
and watch everybody else.

So you watched the acrobats
and the singers and the clowns

and the...everything.

This is one of our pieces of
sheet music with Charlie's dad,

Charles senior.
Yeah.

"I love to meet with dear old pals,
wherever it may be.

I like a song, a pipe, a glass
in jovial company."

'Charles Chaplin Sr liked a glass
in jovial company so much

he became an alcoholic,
and the marriage fell apart.

Hannah Chaplin found herself
bringing up three-year-old Charlie

and his brother Sydney on her own.'

Her work on the stage dried up
as her singing voice faltered.

One particular night when it failed

she was booed off
at a rowdy theatre in Aldershot.

Charlie, only six at the time,
went onstage, sang a popular song,

and was showered with applause
and coins.

As he said in his autobiography,

"That night was my first appearance
on the stage

and Mother's last."

"When the fates deal in human destiny

they heed neither pity nor justice.

Thus they dealt with Mother.

She never regained her voice.

As autumn turns to winter,

so our circumstances
turned from bad to worse."

'The inevitable happened.

Hannah and the children
were temporarily forced into

the Lambeth workhouse.
Charlie was only nine.'

"On the doleful day
I didn't realise what was happening

until we actually entered
the workhouse gate.

For there we were made to separate,

Mother going in one direction
to the women's ward

and we in another to the children's."

"Sydney and I began to weep,
which made Mother weep,

and large tears
began to run down her cheeks."

'Worse was to follow
for the Chaplins.'

"When I reached Pownall Terrace

I was stopped at the gate by
some children of the neighbourhood.

'Your mother's gone insane',
said a little girl.

The words were like
a slap in the face."

'Hannah was confined for a while
to an asylum.

Charlie went to live with his father
until his mother was discharged.'

His first ten years were hell.
The very fact that he survived it

showed that there was something
very extraordinary in the man.

It was not that he just
experienced poverty,

but he saw an incredible amount
of life.

He saw drunkenness,
he saw madness, he saw death,

he saw homelessness, hunger,
everything.

And instead of just laying down
and dying like most kids would do,

he somehow absorbed all this.

And then when he came to the point
where he expressed himself

as an artist, there was all this
inside him which he had to express.

Did your father talk about
his childhood?

Yes, he talked about his childhood.

He...

He did...he did talk about
the poverty.

And, you know, having nothing.

And being hungry and
only having an orange at Christmas.

He didn't like Christmas,
because he'd see all the...

My mother showered us with presents.
She loved the whole ceremony.

But my father was always...
he was a bit reticent.

It reminded him of his childhood.

'All this heartbreak and misery

would be enough to break the spirit
of most people.

But in amongst the sheer hardship
of Charlie's early life

he found he could make people laugh.

Outside the pub his father drank in

there was an old man
who looked after the horses.

Charlie would imitate his walk.'

"When I showed my mother
how Rummy walked,

she begged me to stop

because it was cruel to imitate
a misfortune like that.

But she pleaded while she had
her apron stuffed into her mouth.

Then she went into the pantry
and giggled for ten minutes.

Day after day
I cultivated that walk.

It became an obsession.

Whenever I pulled it,
I was sure of a laugh."

Chaplin's walk is his signature.

And he makes it look so simple.

But it's damn difficult to do.

'Charlie's immense drive,
along with his undoubted talent,

got him his first break.

He registered with
a theatrical agency

and got a part in
a 1903 Sherlock Holmes drama.

He was 14.'

Here we have copies
of his very first reviews

when he was in Sherlock Holmes.

"One of the brightest bits of acting
in the play

was given by Mr Charles Chaplin, who
as Billy, Sherlock Holmes' page boy,

displayed immense activity
as well as dramatic appreciation."

(CHUCKLES)
Then there's the last page there.

"Master Chaz Chaplin is..."

"..decidedly clever." (CHUCKLES)

"I had suddenly left behind
a life of poverty

and was entering
a long-desired dream.

A dream my mother had often
spoken about, had revelled in.

I was to become an actor."

'In 1908, Charlie joined the most
successful comedy company of the era,

Fred Karno's Speechless Comedians.

Two years later,
he was a leading player.

Fred Karno was obviously a brute.

He ill-treated his artists terribly.

But also a genius
at producing comedy.

He always used to like to have
a grotesque piece of action going on

but have an elegant 18th century
minuet or something going with it!

And he saw this contrast
between the comic and the pathetic.

Chaplin acknowledges
he learnt a lot from that.

I found a review from about 1908
when he was on the music hall

saying he's a genius.

Chaplin learnt from watching
everybody.

From watching people in the street.

And he spent his life
in the theatres when he was little,

because he was waiting for
his mother or his father,

occasionally his father,
mostly his mother.

And so he would have learnt from
just watching how everybody did it.

And then when he was himself
in theatrical troupes

he practised, rehearsed, rehearsed,
rehearsed.

'By now Chaplin was 21

and was looking for
a bigger stage for his talents.'

"I was up at six in the morning.

Therefore I did not bother
to wake Sydney,

but left a note on the table stating,

'Off to America. Will keep you
posted. Love, Charlie.'"

'Charlie had set sail for America
with the Karno Company.

They travelled the length and breadth
of the continent

performing their English routines.

The cast included
a young Stan Laurel.

After two tours,
Chaplin's obvious talent was spotted.

If only they could get his name
right!'

In the spring of 1913,

a telegram was sent to the manager of
Charlie's touring company

from the owners
of the Keystone film studio.

It read, "Is there a man named
Chaffin in your company,

or something like that?
If so, will he communicate with

Kessel and Baumann, Broadway,
New York."

Charlie Chaplin was about to leave
the stage for the film studio.

It's a rainy afternoon
in January 1914.

In the communal dressing room at
Keystone Studios, California,

Chaplin is looking for a costume
for his second film.

A comedy called
Mabel's Strange Predicament.

Chaplin puts together
a selection of contrasts.

A pair of voluminous trousers,

a tiny jacket,

size 14 shoes,

a too-small bowler hat,

a cane, and a moustache
trimmed to toothbrush size.

The most famous movie character
of the century had been born.

The Tramp.

"I had no idea of the character.

But the moment I was dressed

the clothes and the make up
made me feel the person he was.

I began to know him, and
by the time I walked onto the stage

he was fully born."

"Shuf-shuf-shuffle with ease,
pointing your toes out at 90 degrees.

Next you raise your right foot so

and round and round
on your left foot you go."

Canes varied a lot.

Well, I mean, he had many.

There are so many
throughout the world.

Collectors have canes.

Some people sometimes contact us
and say,

"I want to know what film
my cane comes from."

So we say, "OK, we'll look at
every single photograph

of every single film
and try and identify the knobs!"

'The character instantly
became known as the Tramp.

But Charlie's son Michael,
who has looked into the family tree,

has a different take on the matter,

based on a mysterious letter
hidden by Chaplin in a drawer.'

It was found when my mother died

and my sister
took the piece of furniture.

And the drawer was locked.
No-one could find the key.

She had a locksmith
come and open it.

There was a letter inside
by a man called Jack Hill,

who had read his autobiography.

This was shortly after
his autobiography was published.

And says...you know...

He actually tells him,
"You're a little liar,

cos you were not born in Kennington,

you were born in Queen Sentina's
caravan on Black Patch."

'The letter puts the place of
Chaplin's birth in a gypsy caravan

in Birmingham. There's no other
evidence to support this claim.

But it got Michael thinking about
who Chaplin's alter ego really was.'

You know,
you look at his early films,

it's not a tramp, it's a gypsy.

Because a tramp is usually
quite humble or down.

Or he's in the street
because he's failed in some way.

The character he invented
is not at all that.

He's someone who goes into these
bourgeois milieus,

especially in the early films,
and he takes over.

He's not at all intimidated.
He's got that cheek

that really belongs to gypsies.
You can see that.

'With this character set,
Chaplin produced film after film -

82 in all - showcasing his talent
at physical comedy.

But this was more than just
shoving a pie in someone's face.'

In Chaplin films
the slapstick is nuanced.

Even violence is balletic.

His understanding and execution
of physical gags

showed an artist in total command
of his craft.

But if a talent for slapstick was
the only weapon in Chaplin's armoury,

like Buster Keaton's,

then he would have been
one among many talented artists

of the silent era.

He wouldn't have changed the face
of movie comedy.

Which is what he did.

'When Charlie Chaplin
started in the movies

silent comedies were
knockabout farces.

Anything for a laugh.

Chaplin changed all that.

He took the comedy
and added another ingredient to it.'

"I did not have to read books
to know that the theme of life

is conflict and pain.

Instinctively all my clowning
was based on this.

My means of contriving comedy plot
was simple.

It was the process of getting people
in and out of trouble."

'The Kid,
the story of an abandoned baby

raised at first unwillingly by
the Tramp, and their life together,

before the reunion of the boy
with his mother

perfectly illustrates this.

It pulls off
the previously unheard of feat

of being both hugely funny
and profoundly moving.'

"Please love and care
for the orphan child."

(WHIMPERS)

Gets to like him.

I'm still moved by it.

It's full of sentiment and...
I just really love it.

'Released in 1921,
The Kid was an instant success,

distributed to 50 countries,

from Norway to Malaya,
Egypt to Australia.'

In the world of silent films,
realism, drama, and sentiment

were kept well apart from comedy.

Comedy was about
being kicked up the arse

or being hit on the head by a brick.

But Chaplin was always striving
for more,

always driven to break convention.

He wanted to make raw slapstick
and sentiment work together.

He wanted them to complement
each other

in a way that strengthened his art.

When we have a sweet moment,
he undercuts it by slapstick.

I like the way
he kicks the child away from him.

(LAUGHS)

Bolts round the corner!

Chaplin really did have something
special as an artist,

had an incredible understanding of
human nature, of what is human.

And that, added to the fact that
he was a great actor

so he admits you to his thoughts,
he admits you to his feelings

in a way that very few actors
can do.

'Chaplin had created
that rarest of creatures -

the Tramp had universal appeal.'

"Man who makes the whole world
laugh."

What is still mysterious to me
is how fast it happened.

By mid-1915
he's already a universal figure,

after less than two years in films.

That's extraordinary, because
you have no television, no radio.

It was only done from the screen.

'In 1916, on the way to New York from
California to sign a new contract,

vast crowds mobbed Charlie's train
at every stop.

Chaplin-mania had arrived.'

"The formalities of
signing the contract followed.

I was photographed
receiving the $150,000 cheque.

That evening I stood with the crowd
in Times Square

as the news flashed onto
the electric sign

that runs round the Times building.

It read 'Chaplin signs with Mutual
at 670,000 a year.'

I stood and read it objectively,
as though it were about someone else.

So much had happened to me,
my emotions were spent."

'It was during the First World War
that he truly became a global star,

with a salary to match.'

In all, 675,000,
which was more than the president,

which was more than anywhere.

And Mutual actually
advertised in the press

that Chaplin was more expensive
than the war.

(LAUGHS)

'Chaplin came from abject poverty
in South London

to become one of the highest paid
actors in Hollywood.

That's amazing enough, but for me
the really remarkable thing about him

is what he did with his money.

He went as far as to build
his own studio.

He set up his own distribution
company, United Artists,

with Mary Pickford
and Douglas Fairbanks Jr,

the superstars of their day.

He ploughed profits
back into his own films,

which meant he could exercise
complete artistic freedom.

As a child he'd been powerless
in the face of misfortune.

Now, as an adult,
he wanted and got total control

over his art and career.'

This is the daily production report,

where they write down
who was employed that day,

how much film footage they shot,

what sequences they were shooting,
and the weather.

This day it happened to be fair.

And sometimes little anecdotes.

For example, I was looking at
the one for Dog's Life the other day

and it said that
the shooting was delayed

because
"pocketbook was run away with".

So the dog must have just run off
with the wallet.

And you can imagine... But it was
a very sort of serious thing.

His position was unique, because he
made the films with his own money.

Nobody else in Hollywood
was putting up their own money

to make their own films.

He had his own studio.

And it was a big risk. Fortunately,
it almost always paid off.

Chaplin was always trying to push
the boundaries of his art.

Not just to get bigger laughs,
always important,

but to see where these innovations
would take him.

With The Kid he made the first
full-length comedy of the silent era.

He proved there was an appetite
for something more

than the old two-reelers.

'In The Gold Rush,
made four years later in 1925,

he hit new heights of innovation.

In this scene he used a combination
of elaborate stage set, models,

and beautifully choreographed
slapstick

to create a seamless piece of
film comedy

that also adds a thrill factor
to the mix.'

Oh, no! It's... (LAUGHS)

Oooooh!

(LAUGHS)

(LAUGHS)

How innovative
was Chaplin technically?

Well, over the years people have...

Critics and historians
have been inclined to say,

"Oh, well, he maybe is very funny,

but he's a very primitive
filmmaker."

It's not true at all.

It's fascinating really to look at
the Keystone films.

It's almost like a film school.

He'll be teaching himself
what happens

if you throw somebody out of a shot
and they come in the other side.

He really is learning it.

And by 1916/17, when he's got
much more independence,

the shots are very, very
sophisticated.

'In search of what he had
in his head,

Chaplin could be an absolute monster
on set,

flying into rages with cast and crew
if things weren't going his way.

One scene in City Lights, from 1931,

features a blind flower seller
offering the Tramp a flower.'

The scene took 342 takes
before he was satisfied with it.

Chaplin worked himself up into
a state of nervous exhaustion

in the search for perfection.

People say, "What was the genius
of Charlie Chaplin?"

And my conclusion at the moment is

his genius was
that he knew when he'd got it right.

(LAUGHTER)
However many times...

"Ah! I've got it!" You know?

'Chaplin was such a good mimic,
he would often act out

each part for his cast,

showing them exactly the way
he wanted them to play it.

This even applied to the extras.'

This is something
that we found quite recently

in The Great Dictator papers,
which is somebody who's transcribed

Chaplin directing Paulette Goddard
at the end of The Great Dictator.

I think that what he says
was rather beautiful.

"This scene is
the poetry of this picture.

You have to be happy - hope!

I want to see that smiling spirit.

I want this as music,
not as a human being.

It's got to be joy, but not fake joy.

You'll find you'll get it more
if you relax.

As long as you believe it, when
you express real joy, they'll cry."

'I couldn't direct like Chaplin.
I like actors to do their own stuff.

But it shows
his uncrushable self-belief

that his way was best.

Chaplin the artist went from success
to success.

His private life was another matter,
mired in unhappiness and scandal.

Like so many things in his life,

I think this can be traced back
to his childhood.'

"The intensity of my emotion
must have bewildered her,

for all during the drive
I kept repeating,

'I know I'm going to regret this.
You're too beautiful.'

I tried vainly to be amusing
and impress her.

I had drawn three pounds
from the bank

and had planned to take her
to the Trocadero,

where, in an atmosphere
of music and plush elegance,

she could see me under the most
romantic auspices.

I wanted to sweep her off her feet,

but she remained cool-eyed, and
somewhat perplexed at my utterances.

To meet elegance and beauty
in my station of life was rare."

'Charlie's first love was
Hetty Kelly, a 15-year-old dancer.

Chaplin was 19,
a music hall comedian.

The romance lasted all of 11 days,

but left an indelible mark on him.'

He did like very young,
still in their teens,

and...well, one might dream
virginal young girls.

'The age difference between him
and Hetty had been four years.

But as Chaplin got older, the age
of his partners stayed the same.

His wealth and charm meant he could
pick and choose whoever he wanted.

His marriages and relationships
fell into a predictable pattern.

His first wife, Mildred Harris,
a child actress,

was 16 when they first met -
Chaplin, 29.

Ill-matched,
they were divorced two years later.

Lita Grey, his second wife, was 16

and pregnant
when Chaplin married her.

He was 35.
The marriage only lasted three years.

It was, however, his involvement with
another young actress, Joan Barry,

in the early 1940s
that really hit the headlines.

It involved a court case
and paternity suit,

where the messy details of their
affair were dragged into public view.

In the middle of the trial,
he met his fourth wife, Oona O'Neill,

daughter of the American playwright
Eugene O'Neill.

Only with her did he find
any sort of happiness.

Despite the age difference -
she was 18 and he 51 -

the marriage lasted until his death.

Chaplin's private life
had long provoked moral outrage

in right-wing America.

But it was his films and politics
that really sparked their anger.

Part of Chaplin's genius
was to take risks.

He didn't shy away from sending up
controversial subjects.

In 1918, with soldiers dying in
their thousands on the Western front,

Chaplin released Shoulder Arms,

in which he made life in the trenches
a source of comedy.'

(CHUCKLES)

'Bad taste? Unfunny?

Not according to the soldiers
who saw it.

They thought it hilarious.

20 years later he decided to send up

one of the greatest monsters
of the century.'

Excellency, here are the notes
for your speech. Thank you.

'In The Great Dictator he made
Adolf Hitler an object of ridicule.'

Nobody in Hollywood
dared to take off Hitler.

(MUTTERS IN GERMAN)

'Pro-Nazi Americans weren't
the only people who hated it.'

"The Chaplin picture
is barred in Germany,

ostensibly because it has
communistic tendencies.

But this official announcement
is sceptically received elsewhere.

The real reason,
the doubters suspect,

is that Charlie's twitching moustache
looks too much like Der Fuhrer's."

(LAUGHS)

I don't know why anyone
hasn't thought of this before.

The world as a balloon.

(LAUGHS)

It's just genius.

'When it opened in London
at the height of the Blitz,

audiences lapped it up.

Back in the US, Chaplin
threw himself into the war effort,

drumming up support for Russia.

Getting carried away giving a speech
at a rally,

he uttered a phrase
that was to come back and haunt him.'

"I was wearing a black tie
and dinner jacket.

There was applause, which gave me
a little time to collect myself.

When it subsided, I said one word -
'Comrades.'

And the house went up
in a roar of laughter.

When it subsided, I said
emphatically, 'And I MEAN comrades'.

There was renewed laughter,
then applause."

He wasn't alone though, look.

"Artists Front to win the war."

There were lots of them there.

"Ladies and gentlemen, comrades -
I mean comrades -

any people who can fight as
the Russian people are fighting now,

fighting and dying for our democracy,

then it is time, a pleasure,
and a privilege

to refer to them as comrades."

What's bad about that?

(LAUGHS) That's what he thought!

And that was that, really,
wasn't it? Yes!

From that moment
the FBI began compiling evidence

of his supposed communist sympathies.

Even a favourable review
of one of his films

in a communist newspaper from 1923

was proof to the paranoid
head of the FBI, J Edgar Hoover,

that Chaplin was
a dangerous anti-American radical.

Hoover took every opportunity
to hound Chaplin subsequently.

And by 1952
the FBI file on him ran to 115 pages.

In the Communist witch hunts
that consumed American public life

after the Second World War,
Chaplin became a prime target

for red baiters, though they could
never prove that he'd been a member

of the Communist Party.

But Hoover was determined
to bring him down.

In 1952 he decided he would premiere
his film Limelight in London,

and planned a trip to Europe
with his new family.

Little did he know
when he got on the vote in New York,

he wouldn't be coming back.

The Queen Elizabeth had been at sea
for two days

when Chaplin received a message
from the attorney general's office.

"It stated that I was to be barred
from the United States

and that before I could
re-enter the country

I would have to go before
an Immigration Board of Enquiry

to answer charges of a political
nature and of moral turpitude."

He decided to have the premiere
in London.

I'm not quite sure why, actually.

I think the whole atmosphere
on the set was very tense

all the way through.

And so they decided to go to London
for a holiday,

and then his re-entry permit
was rescinded.

I remember... What I do remember
was going to the premiere.

And there was a massive crowd.

And I think it's the first time
I realised just how famous he was.

Amazing crowd shouting and screaming

that we had to walk through
to get into the cinema.

And it was a shock, yeah.
It was quite a shock.

'Limelight was set in the world that
gave birth to Chaplin as a performer.

That of the Victorian music hall.

It's full of autobiographical
references,

and Chaplin plays Calvero, an ageing
clown afraid of losing his audience.'

How did your father react
to not going back to the US?

I think it was a huge blow to him.

I've seen newsreel of a
press conference he gave in London,

and you can see he's really...
His voice is cracking with emotion.

He's trying to put on a brave face

and say "goodbye, good riddance",
that sort of thing.

But I think it was a huge blow.

He hadn't realised
it would come to that.

They had really no right to do it.

They were terrified
that he would come back,

because there would have been such
a huge scandal and embarrassment.

But he didn't give them
that embarrassment,

because he said,
"I'm not going back." He left.

'Once Chaplin had been untouchable
because of his fame.

Now he was banished from the country
he had lived in for 40 years.

He was going to have to make
a new life.'

'Once Charlie Chaplin had been
the most famous person on earth.

Now, in his 60s, he had been
hounded out of his adopted homeland,

America,
and vilified for his political views.

But in amongst all this turmoil
and enforced exile,

he found a new happiness
with his family.

He finally settled in Switzerland,
on the shores of Lake Geneva.

He and Oona and the children
took residence near Montreux.

It was here he could,
for the first time in his life,

devote proper time to his family.'

What was the nature of their
relationship, your father and mother?

(SIGHS)

I think they were very much in love.

I think my mother
hadn't had a family,

and he gave her a family,
he gave her eight children.

(LAUGHTER)

And...

That's almost too much!

Yes! Yes, I think probably it was.

This man had
a very turbulent love life

and...I think he found peace
with her.

She gave herself totally to him

and seemed to be enjoying herself.

And he seemed to worship her.

What was he like
with his large family?

Close or distant?

Well, he was a bit of...
a bit of a Victorian gentleman.

At supper
we'd all gather round the table

and he'd tell us stories
and we'd have debates.

He enjoyed our company.

But the rest of the time
we didn't see him.

He was working.
And we had to toe the line.

He was, I think,
quite strict in that sense.

You know, he wanted us to behave.

We couldn't really be too rowdy
in his company.

Here he is picking a flower.

And eating it! (LAUGHS)

That was one of his
old music hall gags.

He's marching off. (LAUGHS)

He'd do things for us.
He'd do little magic tricks,

or funny things like
having his hats flip off his head.

You know, music hall tricks
which he'd do.

But he didn't really talk much
about his films, as I remember.

He was maybe easier on my sisters.

I think maybe he himself,
he never really knew his own father.

He met him once or twice,

but they certainly didn't have
any lasting relationship.

"The Three Stags
in the Kennington Road

was not a place my father frequented.

Yet as I passed it one evening,
an urge prompt a great to peek inside

to see if he was there.

I opened the saloon door, and
there he was, sitting in the corner.

He looked very ill.
His eyes were sunken

and his body had swollen
to an enormous size.

That evening he was most solicitous,
enquiring after mother and Sydney.

And before I left
he took me in his arms

and for the first time, kissed me.

That was the last time
I saw him alive."

It was the first time his father
had hugged him or kissed him. Yes.

Well, you know, I think some of that
sort of passed down.

He was awkward. He didn't quite know
how to behave with a son.

But he certainly did with daughters.

But he loved us.
I feel he really...he did love us.

He seems to be drawn to
the places of his childhood.

This is West Square, I think.

Yes. West Square.
It's all in Lambeth.

He was right at the end of his life.

Nobody recognised him with his
mackintosh and his hat pulled down.

He'd get on a bus or a tube
and go down to Kennington.

I think one of the extraordinary
things about Chaplin

is that although he was so famous,

although he was wooed by
kings and prime ministers,

he kept his, sort of, ordinariness

and his link with real life
and real people and ordinary people.

I think he knew that
that was essential to him.

One had the feeling that he went
to Kennington not from nostalgia

but because he knew that
that was the food...

This was what had nourished him.

He liked going to Kennington,
and people respected him there.

They didn't mob him or fuss him.

"I stopped the taxi
a little before 3, Pownall Terrace.

A strange calm came over me
as I walked towards the house.

I stood a moment taking in the scene.

3, Pownall Terrace.

There it was,
looking like a gaunt old skull.

I looked up at the two top windows,

the garrett where Mother had sat weak
and undernourished, losing her mind.

The windows were closed tight.
They were telling no secrets.

Yet their silence communicated
more than words.

Eventually some little children
came up and surrounded me

and I was obliged to move on."

'Following in Charlie's footsteps
around South London,

seeing where he and his mother
had endured terrible poverty

and humiliation, has made me realise
what an incredible life he had.

From sleeping rough
on the streets of London as a child

to a figure loved
all over the world.'

He's not essentially
the little American,

he's not a little Londoner
or anything, he's a human being.

Which did seem to be
universally recognised.

Every country in the world
adopted Chaplin, loved Chaplin.

And there was in him a universality
to which the whole responded.

'Chaplin's fame gave him
fantastic freedom as an artist.

He took physical comedy
to new heights,

making films that moved you
and made you laugh at the same time.

He was a one-off, a genius.

But like a lot of geniuses,
he had his flaws.

And while I love his work,
I'm not so sure about the man.

He could be a bit of a monster
when he chose to be,

especially in his private life.

But his legacy, his films,
are timeless.'

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