Chaney favored highly theatrical make-ups and bizarre characterizations. He put on long noses and false beards, portraying warped souls in a vivid game of make-believe. He was especially riveting as physically disabled and deformed characters. It isn't clear whether he took this odd artistic route because of his love for theatrical makeup, because he had a special understanding of the weirder aspects of 1920's popular taste or because it allowed him to express something quite personal (his wife, Hazel had earlier been married to a legless man). He may have portrayed grotesques simply to stand out in the crowd.
Chaney was a popular and respected character lead by 1922 when first billed as The Man of A Thousand Faces. His roles as The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923) and The Phantom of the Opera (1925) made him a superstar. This led to a contract with MGM where he became the studio's most popular male star. Frequently paired with director Tod Browning, Chaney starred in the likes of London After Midnight (as a vampire), West of Zanzibar (as a vengeful legless criminal) and The Unknown (as knife-thrower, Alonzo the Armless).
It's interesting to note that flamboyant grotesquerie was also the theatrical preference of Chaney's great contemporary, John Barrymore. Where Barrymore was an inspired poet with a romantic sensibility, Chaney was essentially a master craftsman. He built characters as if laying brick. Each gesture, mannerism and bit of business was methodically designed to bring both character and audience to life. Chaney's work was comparatively blunt, prosaic and workmanlike. But though not as beautiful, it is arguably more accessible and affecting. Chaney was a fine actor, and remains a mysteriously enduring star even today.
Chaney's biographer, Michael Blake, claims that Chaney was not a horror star per se. He only appeared in a handful of movies obeying horror's conventions. But Chaney's legend rests on his gift for portraying physical and spiritual deformity. It's probably splitting hairs to distinguish between a supernatural context (A Blind Bargain) and a realistic but morbid one (West of Zanzibar). They're both based on the allure of fear, and they both appeal to the same people.
There is often a compelling reason for an actor like Chaney to be typed in horror. Boris Karloff's gaunt face and clammy complexion made him a natural as a reanimated corpse. Chaney made brilliant use of his basic physical equipment by playing bizarre roles. His strong, lined face, mesmerizing eyes and toothy leer could be disturbing with little makeup. (It's a little ironic that he never played Victor Hugo's The Man Who Laughs!) Chaney's biggest fans need not apologize for their idol's choice of roles. His status as a silent icon is assured, as demonstrated by his extraordinary presence on two commemorative U.S. postage stamps and by the availability of so many of his surviving films on tape or on laserdisc.
Chaney was arguably the most human of specialists in the grotesque. As an actor, he wanted to inspire the audience's love. He delicately shaded his performances -- hardboiled or horrific -- with a tenderness and a vulnerability that derived from the logic of the script. Chaney gave his brutish characters, such as "Blizzard" in The Penalty and the one-eyed rogue in The Road to Mandalay, complexity and a sense of mystique. He made you feel that nobody else really knew them.
Chaney, the man, is important to us film buffs for sentimental reasons. Legions of male movie nerds trace their interest in silents to seeing grisly stills from Chaney's films published in "Famous Monsters of Filmland" and "Castle of Frankenstein," or else in Carlos Clarens' "An Illustrated History of the Horror Film." Young men and boys attracted to Chaney's weird makeups, bizarre characters and contortionist acrobatics became lifelong fans for more complex reasons. He's a genre star who provides his male fan base with clues on being a man. (He's not unlike Peter Cushing that way, though Cushing is quite a different story.)
The makeup-free Chaney is a man's man, a diamond in the rough. He projects a bluff, no-nonsense masculinity and steely will. He's a force to be reckoned with. The source of Chaney's penetrating gaze was, undoubtedly, a radiant self-confidence. This both helped and hurt him as an artist. Chaney didn't think he needed strong direction, but his scenery-chewing (see Nomads of the North or The Hunchback of Notre Dame) proves otherwise.
Chaney's redoubtable mien found its way into his best-known performances.
Fans were especially fond of him as a no-nonsense father figure in such
"straight" roles as the tenacious engineer in Thunder and the tough-but-fair
sergeant in Tell It To the Marines. Outside of the realm of
the bizarre, Chaney revealed himself for what he was -- a straightforward
and intractable workingman. (© 1998 Christopher
Clotworthy)
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© 1998 David Pierce