I regret giving THE PILGRIM a "9". It is so well done it deserves a "10" but one so wishes it had more scenes to it one's disappointment makes it lesser than say THE GOLD RUSH or CITY LIGHTS or MODERN TIMES.
Chaplin was trying to get away from his classic tramp figure, but public love of the character forced him to use it in his last four major silent films as well as traces of it in his first sound film THE GREAT DICTATOR. Yet in the middle years of the 1920s he considered projects avoiding the tramp entirely. He would make Edna Purviance's A WOMAN OF Paris as director, and played a cameo as a porter. He would consider a variant on the tramp "Professor Bosco" who had a flea circus (the sequence from this film survives in the anthology THE UNKNONW CHAPLIN). He would even consider a film on the life of Napoleon (a still of him dressed as Napoleon exists - the resemblance is uncanny). Finally there was this, the one feature he did prior to his sound period where he really isn't the tramp. But he's close.
Chaplin is a convict who manages to break out of prison. He heads for the Texas-Mexican border, and by circumstances he is dressed as a clergyman (hence the title). It is odd that Charlie never delved into the field of religion before. He believed in the Judeo-Christian code of ethics, but was basically indifferent to organized religion (a point used against him as a "godless atheist" by his right-wing critics from the 1930s onward). Occasionally he shows a minister in one of his comedies. In EASY STREET he is partly convinced to reform and join the police by a minister at a mission house (whom is glad to see the success of his sermon, but is shocked when Charlie turns over the collections plate and some other items he pinched). But no full scale film emerged - possibly due to Chaplin the businessman thinking shrewdly ahead about box office results. The 1920s was not only the age of bathtub gin, Al Capone, the discovery of Freud, the kicking up the traces of the Victorian period...it was also the time of the reemergence of the K.K.K., the beginning of such figures like Aimee Semper McPherson among Christian religious leaders, the Scopes Monkey Trial in Tennessee. The Religious Right was very much alive in the 1920s, and while they loved Charlie's tramp they would have scowled at a serious spoof on religious leaders. Two years after the film Sinclair Lewis did just that in ELMER GANTRY, which won the Pulitzer Prize (Lewis refused it for personal reasons). Although a best seller, GANTRY did not get made into a film until the 1960s.
Charlie arrives in a small town in Texas, close to that border he wants to cross. Once across in Mexico he'll be safe. He is met at the station by a group of church elders led by Matt Swain. They have been expecting the new minister, and they think it is Charlie. As the town Sheriff (Tom Murray) is with them Charlie can't disavow them of their error without causing further questions being asked. He goes along hoping to find an opportunity to flee before long. Of course one complication after another arises testing his abilities to maintain his role. The most critical one is the appearance of a fellow jail bird (Charles Reisner) who blackmails Charlie into assisting him in robbing the Church or face exposure. Charlie goes along - or does he?
From being an opportunistic crook, Charlie's performance is wonderful in showing how sometimes a person's new role brings out values he or she never realized existed (think of party boss Chester Arthur made President of the U.S. by the assassination of his predecessor in 1881, and subsequently showing a zeal for reform in Civil Service, Naval Construction, and vetoing pork-barrel legislation that nobody ever thought he had in him). Here Charlie the opportunist did think of using Church money to defray expenses in Mexico, but gradually he gets to take his role very seriously. First time he does is a cute little joke about the collection plates. There are two boxes passed around by Swain and the other elders (the congregation is large and divided into right and left sections of the pews). Chaplin is watching the congregation, but notices more activity on one side than the other. The boxes are given to him for safe-keeping. He feels the heaviness of the well-filled box and smiles beatifically at that portion of the congregation. Then he sees how light the other one is. He gives the other side a dirty look!
He turns out to be a very effective preacher, delivering a sermon on David and Goliath. Done in pantomime it is one of the best bits he ever concocted, managing to show the story without having to speak at all. He never forgets he's a comic, and the final bit in the sermon after the death of Goliath (when he shows David's disposal of the corpse) is a typical "tramp" gesture with his foot.
There are other bits in the story that are worth treasuring. Swain (shortly to get his great role in Chaplin's films in THE GOLD RUSH) shows for all his marked piety a degree of failing in his drinking. His and Charlie's discomfiture regarding a side flask (keep in mind an illegal one - it's Prohibition in 1923 America!) is cleverly handled.
The others in the film are quite good - particularly Murray who proves to be one lawman with a human heart. And the conclusion, wherein Charlie wonders if his idea of escape was so really smart is clever too. THE PILGRIM is not the top tier Chaplin, but is wonderful enough as it is - and well worth viewing when one can.
Chaplin was trying to get away from his classic tramp figure, but public love of the character forced him to use it in his last four major silent films as well as traces of it in his first sound film THE GREAT DICTATOR. Yet in the middle years of the 1920s he considered projects avoiding the tramp entirely. He would make Edna Purviance's A WOMAN OF Paris as director, and played a cameo as a porter. He would consider a variant on the tramp "Professor Bosco" who had a flea circus (the sequence from this film survives in the anthology THE UNKNONW CHAPLIN). He would even consider a film on the life of Napoleon (a still of him dressed as Napoleon exists - the resemblance is uncanny). Finally there was this, the one feature he did prior to his sound period where he really isn't the tramp. But he's close.
Chaplin is a convict who manages to break out of prison. He heads for the Texas-Mexican border, and by circumstances he is dressed as a clergyman (hence the title). It is odd that Charlie never delved into the field of religion before. He believed in the Judeo-Christian code of ethics, but was basically indifferent to organized religion (a point used against him as a "godless atheist" by his right-wing critics from the 1930s onward). Occasionally he shows a minister in one of his comedies. In EASY STREET he is partly convinced to reform and join the police by a minister at a mission house (whom is glad to see the success of his sermon, but is shocked when Charlie turns over the collections plate and some other items he pinched). But no full scale film emerged - possibly due to Chaplin the businessman thinking shrewdly ahead about box office results. The 1920s was not only the age of bathtub gin, Al Capone, the discovery of Freud, the kicking up the traces of the Victorian period...it was also the time of the reemergence of the K.K.K., the beginning of such figures like Aimee Semper McPherson among Christian religious leaders, the Scopes Monkey Trial in Tennessee. The Religious Right was very much alive in the 1920s, and while they loved Charlie's tramp they would have scowled at a serious spoof on religious leaders. Two years after the film Sinclair Lewis did just that in ELMER GANTRY, which won the Pulitzer Prize (Lewis refused it for personal reasons). Although a best seller, GANTRY did not get made into a film until the 1960s.
Charlie arrives in a small town in Texas, close to that border he wants to cross. Once across in Mexico he'll be safe. He is met at the station by a group of church elders led by Matt Swain. They have been expecting the new minister, and they think it is Charlie. As the town Sheriff (Tom Murray) is with them Charlie can't disavow them of their error without causing further questions being asked. He goes along hoping to find an opportunity to flee before long. Of course one complication after another arises testing his abilities to maintain his role. The most critical one is the appearance of a fellow jail bird (Charles Reisner) who blackmails Charlie into assisting him in robbing the Church or face exposure. Charlie goes along - or does he?
From being an opportunistic crook, Charlie's performance is wonderful in showing how sometimes a person's new role brings out values he or she never realized existed (think of party boss Chester Arthur made President of the U.S. by the assassination of his predecessor in 1881, and subsequently showing a zeal for reform in Civil Service, Naval Construction, and vetoing pork-barrel legislation that nobody ever thought he had in him). Here Charlie the opportunist did think of using Church money to defray expenses in Mexico, but gradually he gets to take his role very seriously. First time he does is a cute little joke about the collection plates. There are two boxes passed around by Swain and the other elders (the congregation is large and divided into right and left sections of the pews). Chaplin is watching the congregation, but notices more activity on one side than the other. The boxes are given to him for safe-keeping. He feels the heaviness of the well-filled box and smiles beatifically at that portion of the congregation. Then he sees how light the other one is. He gives the other side a dirty look!
He turns out to be a very effective preacher, delivering a sermon on David and Goliath. Done in pantomime it is one of the best bits he ever concocted, managing to show the story without having to speak at all. He never forgets he's a comic, and the final bit in the sermon after the death of Goliath (when he shows David's disposal of the corpse) is a typical "tramp" gesture with his foot.
There are other bits in the story that are worth treasuring. Swain (shortly to get his great role in Chaplin's films in THE GOLD RUSH) shows for all his marked piety a degree of failing in his drinking. His and Charlie's discomfiture regarding a side flask (keep in mind an illegal one - it's Prohibition in 1923 America!) is cleverly handled.
The others in the film are quite good - particularly Murray who proves to be one lawman with a human heart. And the conclusion, wherein Charlie wonders if his idea of escape was so really smart is clever too. THE PILGRIM is not the top tier Chaplin, but is wonderful enough as it is - and well worth viewing when one can.