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 |   As the first blog entry got exhausted. My second book |
| Evolution of Love Part 2 |
| Unkempt, shabby all in black and white danced on the screen, without any hindrance and lo there he was: a figure pretty shabby recognizable, a silhouette against the stark backdrop always ready to do anything. The Little five feet something Tramp. He shuffled into the frame, challenging the viewers with a collection of contradictions and yet relatable steps across all age group. An attitude personel yet detached so very unique across the century. Baggy trousers like penguins that seemed to swallow his short legs, a too-tight coat straining at the buttons and rarely without them, not to miss the oversized boots that threatened to banish him with every other step. Perched jauntily on his head was a small bowler black hat, and a delicate, almost comical, hitler mustache adorned his upper lip. A cane, twirled with surprising speed, served as both an aid and a weapon, a tool in his silent ballet of survival. This wasn't just a costume; it was a character born,absorbed and improvised from the harsh realities of Charlie Chaplin's own impoverished childhood in London. The ill-fitting clothes mirrored the hand-me-downs of poverty, the resilience hinted at in the jaunty black hat a defiance against hardship mostly in a black and white movie setup and a brief writeup to enhance the viewers experience. Ah! the story here, set against the backdrop of a bustling city street, the Tramp was trying to earn a meager living so very realistically captured in b/w. He attempted to sell trinkets, his hopeful and heart touching smile quickly fading as indifferent and occupied crowds hurried past. He tried his hand at sweeping, only to create more chaos than cleanliness, earning the ire of a stern and sharp shopkeeper. Hunger and inner turmoil gnawed at him, a constant companion so very relatable by the old generation. Yet, amidst the struggle, there was an inherent self confidence and dignity. He always fumbled and stumbled, and yet he always maintained a certain gentlemanly and serville air, tipping his hat to aristocratic or genteel ladies and attempting acts of kindness, however misappropriate. One scene showed him encountering a young and nubile flower girl, her face etched with sadness. He had nothing to offer, but with a series of expressive gestures – a mimed offering of an imaginary flower, a sympathetic tilt of his head – he conveyed a sense of shared loneliness and unabridged hope. Later, as usual a protagonist or bully twice his size threatened the flower girl, attempting to steal her meager earnings with towering act of cruelty so subtly captured. The Tramp, despite his physical disadvantage, bravely intervened with fearless moves. His fighting style was less about brute force and more about cunning, perfect timing and dynamic agility. The cane though unexpectedly became an extension of his wit, tripping the larger man, hooking his leg, leading to a comical, albeit effective, defeat. But victory was often fleeting for the Tramp. In the end, the flower girl, though grateful, had her own path to follow, one that didn't include the innocent and yet gullible Tramp. The final scene though heart breaking showed the Tramp walking away, his small figure receding into the urban landscape. There was a touch of melancholy in his gait, but also an undeniable resilience. He might be down, but he was never out. He would face the next day, the next challenge, with the same blend of Chaplin-esque humor and underlying humanity that had captured the hearts of audiences worldwide, proving that even in silence, a character could speak volumes about the human condition and struggle with limited resources and oportunity. |
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