ElMaruecan82 "A Woman of Paris: A Drama of Fate" left me with two certitudes: Chaplin is the greatest film-maker who ever lived, and the film, had it not been 'sold' as a Chaplin film, would probably stand today as one of the most influential movies ever. It's a sad irony that Chaplin's very popularity undermined the success of his first attempt on drama. The movie met with some critical acclaim but popularity was vital to ensure a lasting appeal. Time did justice to "A Woman of Paris" the place it would have occupied definitely belongs to Murnau's "Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans".But it's never too late to appreciate an underrated gem, and I'm sure all the Chaplin's fans, after visioning the 'established' masterpieces, had the opportunity to finally discover his most underrated gem and enrich their appreciation of the film-maker, the dramatic film-maker. Speaking from my own experience, my discovery of the existence of "A Woman in Paris" happened the oddest way. I bought a DVD of "The Great Dictator" and was shocked to see this film instead. I probably had the same response than the audiences who expected the iconic Tramp and were immediately deceived by the opening statement warning that Chaplin doesn't appear (his cameo is hardly noticeable). In a way, I feel even guilty for not having given the film a chance, and waited almost four years before watching it, but Chaplin's aura was so immense I couldn't imagine a film from him and without him.Now, I'm not an expert in dramatic movies from the Silent Era but I'm sure that the craftsmanship Chaplin displayed in "A Woman of Paris" was ahead of its time and influenced many of his peers. I had reservations when the film started but they were immediately swept off by the quality of a poignant and emotional first act. The film opens with Marie St Clair, Edna Purviance as a woman living in a small French village. She's in love with Jean, an artist, played by Carl Miller to her father's disapproval. The father locks her door of her room but she joins Jean from the balcony during a rendezvous à la "Romeo and Juliet". Her father, infuriated, definitely locks her out of the house, it's up to Jean to find her a bed for the night, forever. The drama goes crescendo when Jean's parents disapprove the union and force the couple to leave the village. They go to a train station, Jean promises to follow her but another succession of events leads her to leave the village, without Jean.One year later, she became the mistress of a wealthy businessman, named Pierre Revel and played by Adolphe Menjou. I knew Menjou from his performance in "Paths of Glory", and if his devilish smile and cynical attitude, carried by an imitable mustache totally fitted his role as the villainous general, it was perfect for his role as the suave and debonair Revel. If there is one performance that stands alone in the film, it's Menjou's. Not to diminish the lead actors' merit, but they're obviously playing tormented people torn between their love and other demons. For instance, we never question how and why Marie became this woman, Chaplin leaves that to our interpretations through an efficient ellipse, but the narrative is so rich and constructed that we're literally absorbed by the story, and it's as the story progresses that we understand the story of Marie. The film depicts a slice of Paris' roaring twenties, in the zany post-war years, and Marie lived such a nightmarish life we might empathize with her desire to have a break. When one loses the love of his life, better to deliberately sink into the decadence of an easy life.Yet Marie ultimately meets Jean, and never the story goes into standard directions. Chaplin surprises us by illustrating the continual torment in both Marie and Jean's hearts, she loves him but she never seems not to enjoy her current life, he loves her, he is eager to marry her, but can't find the nerve to disappoint his mother, who doesn't like the way she is. For once, we have characters who act not according to their feelings, but under the influence of much higher and powerful forces, wealth and luxury, authority and maternal love. We never doubt about their love, but we never take it for granted that they will walk together into the sunset at the end. Chaplin made a drama and sticks to it without overplaying it, which makes the emotional parts even more powerful, and he shows a remarkable screen writing talent, proving that silent movies can also benefit from the use of the right words at the right time.To laud the technical achievement, this review could cover every part of the film-making process: writing, directing, editing, but I mostly want to praise the triumph of storytelling that Chaplin demonstrated. I guess it's the mark of the real talent when a comedic actor proves his ease with drama as well as comedy, Woody Allen could also handle both genres with the same skills, except with dialogs, while Chaplin shows emotions through characters, on looks and body languages, and it's extraordinary how even one look can be translated in many words, characters look like archetypes but they're never three-dimensional.For the trivia, I read that the film was meant to leverage Edna Purviance's career, to prove that she could succeed without Chaplin. It didn't work because she wasn't talented, but because circumstances forced her to leave the business. Yet the scene-stealing performance of Menjou carries half the enjoyment. There is something of Menjou in Dujardin's last performance in "The Artist", but the comparison ends here, the film was a homage to silent movies, but it may have contributed to the idea that silent movies were just made of gestures and flat love stories. Rightfully, "A Woman of Paris" contradicts those clichés.

tarmcgator "A Woman of Paris" is hardly the innovative work of genius that some Chaplin enthusiasts would have you believe, nor was it a flop just because moviegoers were disappointed that The Little Tramp was not to be seen in it. It's just a mediocre film, proof that genius can have an off day, or an off year, especially when it tries to push the envelope too much.I'm not sure who originated the truism that every comic yearns to play Hamlet, but certainly Chaplin aspired to make films that were more than gag-laden comedies. He had already tugged at the world's heartstrings with "The Kid" (1921), and within a couple of years he was ready to make a "serious" film that would entirely omit the comedy image that had made him the most famous movie star on the planet. He also wanted to feature his longtime co-star (and part-time inamorata), the lovely Edna Purviance, who had been a pleasant presence in about three dozen earlier Chaplin shorts and features. Apparently, he had great belief in her abilities as a dramatic actress.Unfortunately, Chaplin the writer/director didn't give his favored lady much to work with. The real weakness of "Woman" is the bland story, which has some rather large holes. Why do the fathers of Marie and Jean both object to their child's choice of fiancé(e)? How does a provincial girl like Marie -- who doesn't seem to have much going for her beyond her looks (Edna, who was 28 when "Woman" was released, looks harder and does not seem quite so fetching as she did five or six years earlier) -- develop in one year the ambition and cunning to become the mistress of "the richest bachelor in Paris?" How does she find out that Jean has moved to the city? None of these important plot points are really covered in the film. Chaplin seems to have thought that dazzling and risqué glimpses of the Parisian high life would be sufficient to hold the narrative together.Of course, Jean finds out that Marie is a prominent courtesan, and he's torn between his lingering love for her and his widowed mother's insistence on marital respectability. (Shades of "Camille!") After the tragic climax, we get a quick inter-title telling us that Marie has learned her lesson, and the film ends with her departure from the the Big City of Lights as the richest bachelor motors on his merry way.Kevin Brownlow and David Gill's explorations of Chaplin's creative process, "The Unknown Chaplin," makes it clear that Charlie didn't always have a firm grasp on the details of the story he was trying to tell -- and one suspects that may be why "Woman's" storyline is so pedestrian. Without the screen persona of the Tramp to guide him, and in his effort to make a "serious" dramatic film, Chaplin's inventiveness failed him in telling a compelling and believable story in which he did not appear.This was Purviance's last featured role in a Chaplin film. A few years later she starred in a Chaplin-produced movie, "A Woman of the Sea" (aka "The Sea Gull"), directed by Josef von Sternberg. (This film is now apparently lost; Chaplin reportedly refused to release it and ordered the negative destroyed for financial reasons.) It would have been nice to observe Edna working with another director, if only to see if she indeed did have the acting chops in which Chaplin believed. She made only one more film (not counting a couple of very small roles in two later Chaplin movies) before retiring in the late '20s. (Chaplin kept her on his payroll, however, until she died in 1958.)So, "A Woman of Paris" is essentially a Chaplin oddity, a film that every Chaplin fan ought to see at least once, if only to appreciate what the man accomplished in his comic films. But if Chaplin's name weren't on it -- contrary to some opinions -- it would remain a mediocre and unremarkable film, save for the appearance of Edna Purviance and the striking performance of Adolph Menjou.

CitizenCaine A Woman Of Paris was edited, written, produced, and directed by Chaplin for United Artists, the company he formed with then film giants Douglas Fairbanks, Mary Pickford, and screen pioneer D.W. Griffith. The film is historically notable for several other reasons as well. It marked the last collaboration between Chaplin and Edna Purviance, the first film Chaplin directed to not feature himself as the leading actor, and his first entirely dramatic feature film. Perhaps Chaplin already suspected this film was going to be a tough sell when he wrote the disclaimer at the beginning of this film, warning the audience that it was a drama and not a comedy. If he had access to the type of media coverage available to stars today, the audiences' expectations might have been tempered. The film was a tremendous flop at the box office and was banned in several cities due to the 1924 New Year's Day shooting scandal involving Edna Purviance. She stars as Marie St. Clair, a woman led by fate to the bright lights and hedonism of 1920's Paris where she meets the most eligible bachelor: Pierre Revel played by Adolphe Menjou. Menjou epitomizes what women despise in men: Cockiness and emotional bankruptcy. It's clear from the start that Revel will never marry Marie. While she is torn between Revel and her former love Jean, Marie is also torn between continuing to live well as a kept woman or marrying Jean who has become a moderately successful artist. While some plot elements are contrived and creaky, the film is celebrated as a stunning example of contemporary realism smashing old world stereotypes in Hollywood films. Chaplin made the film as a valentine to Edna Purviance and to hopefully boost her career as a dramatic actress, but the film's box office failure and another abandoned effort with her called The Seagull put that notion to rest. Purviance is fine but nothing special as Marie St. Clair, but Adolphe Menjou steals the film from her as the caddish Pierre. The film ended up making Menjou a steady lead actor within months of its release. The last five or six minutes of the film are especially poignant. Chaplin wisely eschewed punishing Marie St. Clair in favor of a visually metaphorical ending in which the newly rejuvenated Marie travels in the opposite direction from the befuddled Pierre. More than fifty years after its release, the film was re-edited and scored by Chaplin himself and has garnered a critical following that has greatly boosted the stock of the film. The cinematography and editing are especially first rate. Chaplin regular Henry Bergman appears as a head waiter in a fancy restaurant, and his secretary Nellie Bly Baker plays a masseuse. Chaplin himself has a very brief cameo at the train station. *** of 4 stars.

n_r_koch This is not such a bad film, but how much did Chaplin really have to do with the direction? Much of the film looks like it was made by Monta Bell (credited as editor) who specialized in fallen women, grimy quarters, and mother-fixated men. Chaplin certainly wrote the thing, though: it keeps cueing us to identify with the Struggling Artist-- that is, with Chaplin, or Chaplin as he was a few years earlier. Menjou and Purviance and the supporting cast are so good in the early Paris scenes that the arrival of the artist is a nuisance. The conventional resolution after the triangle meet trashes the delicate ambiguity set up in these scenes; it turns out that the writer has just been stringing us along. But it's still worth seeing for these scenes.