One Paragraph Movie Review: The Gold Rush

One hundred and eighty-ninth film: The Gold Rush, container of Charlie Chaplin’s shoe-eating and bread-roll-dancing gags. The worst thing about silent movies — including this one — is that the music is very much not silent, but the best thing is you can eat something crunchy while you’re watching them and not miss any dialogue. Daaammmnnn though, if you’re going to watch one, watch a Chaplin one. He’s a cliché for a reason, and that reason is rampant, relentless clever-funnies. Set in Alaska, the mountains, cabins, bears and giant human-sized chickens are all incredibly realistic for 1925 resources, especially when you consider how bad the make-up is, and that the plot is basically Guy Wears Bowler Hat In Snow, Gets Into Funny Scrapes. But that’s exactly enough for exactly what this is. But thank god for advancements in movie technology, with or without chips. Three gourmet shoelaces out of five.