This blog has been assigned by Prof. Dr. Dilip Barad. It focuses on the examination of the setting of the modern age in English literature through the lens of Charlie Chaplin's films.
The early decades of the twentieth century marked a decisive rupture in human history, a period which A. C. Ward characterizes as one of unprecedented material progress accompanied by profound moral, spiritual, and psychological dislocation. Rapid industrialization, mass production, technological innovation, and the growth of bureaucratic systems transformed everyday life, while two World Wars, economic depression, and the rise of totalitarian regimes shattered Victorian faith in permanence, stability, and moral certainty. Modern English literature emerged from this climate as an interrogative and critical force, questioning authority, exposing social injustice, and exploring alienation, disillusionment, and the erosion of individuality. Charlie Chaplin’s films Modern Times (1936) and The Great Dictator (1940), though cinematic rather than literary texts, belong fully to this Modern Age sensibility. Through visual satire, symbolic framing, and comic exaggeration, Chaplin offers what Ward calls an “X-ray image” of modern civilization—revealing the dehumanizing effects of industrial capitalism, the failure of liberal progress, the manipulation of the masses through propaganda, and the moral catastrophe of authoritarian power. This blog undertakes a detailed frame study of selected scenes from both films to demonstrate how Chaplin’s visual language parallels and reinforces the central concerns of Modern English literature as shaped by the socio-economic and political realities of the twentieth century.
Frame Study of Modern Times (1936): Charlie Chaplin and the Modern Age Sensibility
Frame 1: The Assembly Line — Mechanization and the Birth of “Mass Man”
The assembly line frame in Modern Times functions as a visual condensation of the Modern Age crisis described by A. C. Ward. Chaplin’s Tramp is positioned amid rigid metal structures and relentlessly moving machinery, performing a single repetitive action—tightening bolts—at a pace dictated entirely by the machine. The visual composition minimizes individuality: the human body is dwarfed by industrial apparatus, while rhythm and movement are imposed externally. The moment when the Tramp’s hands continue the tightening motion even after leaving the conveyor belt suggests that mechanization has penetrated the nervous system itself.
Ward emphasizes that the twentieth century witnessed accelerated scientific and industrial progress accompanied by moral and spiritual regression. This frame makes that paradox visible. Industrial efficiency advances, but the human subject deteriorates. The worker no longer experiences labour as meaningful activity but as compulsive repetition. The loss of craftsmanship, which Ward identifies as a major consequence of mass production, is dramatized here through Chaplin’s physical comedy. Skill, pride, and individuality vanish; the worker becomes what Ward calls “Mass Man”, a replaceable unit within an impersonal system.
This visual critique aligns closely with Modern English literature. Writers such as D. H. Lawrence protested against industrial civilization’s assault on instinct and vitality, while T. S. Eliot portrayed modern life as fragmented, repetitive, and spiritually barren in The Waste Land. Chaplin translates these literary anxieties into cinematic form, replacing Eliot’s fragmented voices with a fragmented body. The Tramp’s loss of bodily control mirrors the modern subject’s loss of inner coherence.
Ward also notes the modern submission to systems and expertise, where authority is no longer personal but mechanical and institutional. The assembly line operates as unquestioned authority. There is no visible tyrant, only a system that demands obedience. Chaplin’s satire is subtle but devastating: the worker does not rebel; he adapts until adaptation becomes pathology. The frame thus captures the Modern Age condition—progress without humanity, efficiency without meaning, and labour without dignity.
Frame 2: The Feeding Machine — Progress as Grotesque Rationalization
The feeding machine frame is Chaplin’s most savage satire on the ideology of progress. The Tramp is strapped into a chair while a complex mechanical device attempts to feed him automatically. Gears rotate, arms extend, spoons malfunction, and food is forced violently into his mouth. The human body is immobilized, while the machine dominates the frame through aggressive motion. The scene transforms innovation into farce, and efficiency into cruelty.
A. C. Ward characterizes the Modern Age as a period when faith in scientific progress collapsed into deep disillusionment. The feeding machine embodies this collapse. Designed to eliminate lunch breaks, it represents the extreme rationalization of life under capitalism, where even eating—a basic human necessity—is viewed as an obstacle to productivity. Chaplin exposes the inhuman logic beneath such rationalization. Progress, stripped of ethical consideration, becomes grotesque.
This frame strongly resonates with Modern English literature’s critique of mechanized civilization. Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World presents a technologically perfected society that sacrifices individuality and humanity for stability and efficiency. Chaplin’s feeding machine operates on the same principle: comfort and convenience are promised, but human dignity is destroyed. The Tramp is no longer a person but a biological mechanism to be managed.
Ward repeatedly stresses that modern systems tend to treat individuals as components within administrative machines. This frame literalizes that idea. The worker’s body is treated as an object to be optimized. The machine decides how, when, and what he eats. Human agency disappears. Chaplin’s comedy forces the viewer to confront the moral absurdity of a system that values productivity over personhood.
Importantly, Chaplin does not attack machines themselves but the ideology governing their use. The feeding machine fails not because it is poorly built, but because it embodies a philosophy that reduces humanity to efficiency metrics. This aligns with Ward’s observation that modern society often mistakes technical advancement for moral progress. The frame becomes a visual argument: when progress loses its human center, it turns violent.
Frame 3: Surveillance and Authority — The Rule of Systems
In this frame, the factory owner appears repeatedly on large screens, monitoring workers throughout the industrial space—even inside the washroom. The boss is never physically present. Instead, his magnified image floats above the workers, detached yet omnipresent. The frame replaces human supervision with technological surveillance, transforming authority into an abstract, inescapable force.
A. C. Ward identifies the Modern Age as a period marked by the rise of impersonal institutional power. Authority shifts from individuals to systems, from personal judgment to bureaucratic control. Chaplin visualizes this shift with startling clarity. The boss’s disembodied face represents modern authority—distant, unapproachable, yet absolute. The worker is constantly visible; power remains invisible.
This frame anticipates themes that later dominate Modern English literature. George Orwell’s 1984 presents surveillance as a mechanism of total domination, while Kafka’s The Trial depicts authority as faceless and inaccessible. Chaplin’s satire belongs to this same intellectual tradition. The washroom scene is especially revealing: even bodily privacy is denied. The boundary between public labour and private existence collapses.
Ward also critiques modern society’s submission to experts and administrators, noting how obedience replaces critical inquiry. In this frame, surveillance disciplines behaviour without physical force. The worker internalizes control, modifying actions even when no one appears to be watching. Chaplin exposes how freedom erodes quietly, disguised as efficiency and order.
The deeper implication is political. Chaplin suggests that industrial capitalism and authoritarian governance share structural similarities. Both rely on surveillance, discipline, and obedience. This frame thus transcends its immediate context, offering a broader commentary on Modern Age power structures, where technology becomes the mediator of control and humanity is subordinated to systems.
Frame 4: Prison as Security — The Illusion of Modern Freedom
The prison frame presents one of Chaplin’s most devastating ironies. Inside the jail, the Tramp is calm, well-fed, and secure. The visual composition is orderly and stable. Meals arrive on time; routines are predictable. Outside the prison, however, the world is chaotic—marked by unemployment, hunger, and social instability. Chaplin reverses expectations: confinement offers security, while freedom offers deprivation.
A. C. Ward emphasizes that the Modern Age shattered faith in liberal capitalism’s promise of justice and opportunity. The Great Depression exposed the fragility of economic systems that claimed to guarantee prosperity. Chaplin’s prison frame visualizes this disillusionment. Freedom, in modern society, proves meaningless without economic security. The Tramp prefers imprisonment because it ensures survival.
This irony resonates deeply with Modern English literature. George Orwell’s The Road to Wigan Pier exposes the harsh realities of working-class life beneath narratives of national progress. Chaplin’s satire echoes Orwell’s social critique, revealing how economic systems fail the vulnerable. The prison becomes a refuge in a society that cannot meet basic human needs.
Ward also discusses the paradox of modern welfare systems, which, while designed to protect the masses, often treat individuals as administrative units. The prison frame anticipates this critique. Security is provided, but at the cost of freedom and individuality. Chaplin forces us to question what kind of freedom modern society truly offers.
Ultimately, this frame challenges the ideological foundations of modern civilization. It asks whether progress has produced genuine human welfare or merely new forms of dependence. Chaplin’s visual satire exposes the tragic contradiction at the heart of the Modern Age: abundance exists, yet dignity is denied.
Final Reflection
Through these frames, Modern Times emerges as a cinematic counterpart to Modern English literature. Chaplin translates the anxieties articulated by A. C. Ward—mechanization, mass society, surveillance, and disillusionment—into powerful visual satire. The film stands as a modernist text in its own right, revealing with irony and precision the fractured human condition of the twentieth century.
Frame Study of The Great Dictator(1940): Satire, Power, and the Modern Age
Frame 1: The Dictator and the Globe — Megalomania and the Illusion of Absolute Power
This frame visually embodies what A. C. Ward describes as the Modern Age’s crisis of authority and power. Ward notes that the twentieth century witnessed the collapse of moral restraint alongside technological and political expansion, enabling individuals and states to wield unprecedented destructive power . Hynkel’s interaction with the globe symbolizes this imbalance: political power has outpaced ethical responsibility.
In Modern English literature, similar critiques appear in George Orwell’s political writings, where power is shown as an end in itself rather than a means to justice. Orwell’s later formulation—“power is not a means; it is an end”—is prefigured visually in this frame. The globe is not governed; it is possessed. Chaplin’s satire strips dictatorship of its ideological pretensions and exposes it as narcissistic fantasy.
The fragility of the balloon globe is crucial. It suggests that the dictator’s dream of total control is built on illusion. When the globe finally bursts, Chaplin delivers a silent but devastating commentary on the instability of authoritarian ambition. Ward emphasizes that modern history is shaped by catastrophic consequences of unchecked power—world wars, mass destruction, and political collapse. This frame condenses that historical truth into a single, poetic image. Thus, the scene critiques not only Hitler but the broader Modern Age tendency toward hubris. It warns that when authority becomes detached from moral limits, the world itself becomes expendable.
Frame 2: The Ghetto — Dehumanization and the Collapse of Moral Civilization
The globe dance scene is one of the most iconic visual metaphors in twentieth-century cinema. Chaplin’s dictator, Adenoid Hynkel, dances playfully with an inflated globe, tossing it into the air, caressing it, and treating the world as a personal toy. The frame is elegant, almost lyrical, yet deeply disturbing. The dictator is isolated in a grand, empty space, emphasizing both his power and his solipsism.
This frame visually embodies what A. C. Ward describes as the Modern Age’s crisis of authority and power. Ward notes that the twentieth century witnessed the collapse of moral restraint alongside technological and political expansion, enabling individuals and states to wield unprecedented destructive power . Hynkel’s interaction with the globe symbolizes this imbalance: political power has outpaced ethical responsibility.
In Modern English literature, similar critiques appear in George Orwell’s political writings, where power is shown as an end in itself rather than a means to justice. Orwell’s later formulation—“power is not a means; it is an end”—is prefigured visually in this frame. The globe is not governed; it is possessed. Chaplin’s satire strips dictatorship of its ideological pretensions and exposes it as narcissistic fantasy.
The fragility of the balloon globe is crucial. It suggests that the dictator’s dream of total control is built on illusion. When the globe finally bursts, Chaplin delivers a silent but devastating commentary on the instability of authoritarian ambition. Ward emphasizes that modern history is shaped by catastrophic consequences of unchecked power—world wars, mass destruction, and political collapse. This frame condenses that historical truth into a single, poetic image.
Thus, the scene critiques not only Hitler but the broader Modern Age tendency toward hubris. It warns that when authority becomes detached from moral limits, the world itself becomes expendable.
Frame 3: The Final Speech — Humanism Against Modern Barbarism
The final speech of The Great Dictator abandons satire altogether. Chaplin, speaking directly to the audience, rejects dictatorship, hatred, and mechanization, calling instead for compassion, democracy, and human solidarity. The frame is simple, direct, and emotionally charged.
A. C. Ward emphasizes that the Modern Age produced a powerful ethical response to violence and oppression, especially in the interwar and wartime years . Chaplin’s speech belongs to this tradition. It echoes the humanist impulses found in Modern English literature, from E. M. Forster’s call to “only connect” to Orwell’s insistence on moral clarity.
The speech directly critiques the themes explored visually throughout the film: mechanization, mass obedience, and dehumanization. Chaplin rejects the worship of machines and systems, insisting that humanity must reclaim moral agency. This aligns precisely with Ward’s insistence that modern civilization must be judged not by technical achievement but by ethical responsibility.
The frame’s power lies in its sincerity. Chaplin risks sentimentality, but the historical context—rising fascism and global war—justifies the urgency. The speech becomes a manifesto against the failures of modernity.
In literary terms, this moment represents Modern Age literature’s turn toward engaged humanism. Art can no longer remain neutral. Chaplin’s final frame asserts that the ultimate purpose of art, as Ward suggests, is not spectacle but moral insight.
Final Reflection
Together, these frames establish The Great Dictator as a cinematic counterpart to Modern English political literature. Chaplin exposes the dangers of authoritarian power, propaganda, mass manipulation, and moral collapse—central concerns of the Modern Age identified by A. C. Ward. Through satire and sincerity, the film becomes both a historical document and a timeless warning.
Taken together, the frame analyses of Modern Times and The Great Dictator reveal Charlie Chaplin as one of the most incisive critics of the Modern Age, translating into visual form the very anxieties that dominate twentieth-century English literature as described by A. C. Ward. Whether depicting the worker reduced to a mechanical appendage, the grotesque rationalization of life in the name of efficiency, the rise of surveillance and impersonal authority, or the seductive imagery and brutal reality of dictatorship, Chaplin exposes the contradictions of modernity—progress without humanity, power without morality, and freedom without security. His films echo the concerns of writers such as Eliot, Forster, Lawrence, Shaw, and Orwell, who similarly interrogated the loss of individuality, the collapse of old certainties, and the dangerous rise of mass society and authoritarian control. Yet Chaplin’s satire is not merely diagnostic; it is also ethical. By ending The Great Dictator with an unambiguous appeal to humanism, compassion, and moral responsibility, Chaplin aligns himself with the Modern Age’s most enduring literary impulse: the insistence that art must confront the realities of its time and reaffirm the value of the human spirit. In this sense, Chaplin’s cinema stands not outside literature but alongside it—as a modernist critique of a world struggling to reconcile technological power with human dignity.
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