cinema history class: he who gets slapped (1924)

The session: Happy (Belated) 100th Birthday to the Phantom of the Opera
Keith shows us three classic Lon Chaney silent films and a documentary about his career

This is not a trailer in the way we think of trailers, but it was the best I could find. As near as I understand, trailers (as we know them today) weren't really a thing when this movie was first released.

As always, there may be spoilers here. And the trailer may be NSFW and/or NSFL.

Week 1: He Who Gets Slapped (1924)
Directed by Victor Seastrom

My Level of Prior Knowledge:
Never heard of it.

Plot Synopsis:
A brilliant scientist is betrayed by his patron and humiliated in front of society. Years later, he reinvents himself as a clown whose act revolves around being repeatedly slapped—turning his personal disgrace into public spectacle. Beneath the performance, he harbors unresolved pain that erupts when he becomes entangled in a dangerous romantic triangle at the circus.

Plot:
Before getting into He Who Gets Slapped, I have to note something about the clowns. These are not your standard cheerful, balloon-animal-adjacent clowns. The makeup—especially on Lon Chaney’s titular character—is sharper, harsher, and just…off. The corners aren’t rounded into smiles; they feel pointed, almost weaponized. Combined with Chaney’s intensely expressive face, it creates this constant sense that something is about to snap. I spent a good chunk of the movie convinced he was going to go completely psycho and take everyone down with him—and honestly, if this had been made in the 1970s, I’m pretty sure it would have, with Chaney going full Charles Bronson on the entire cast. The film never quite becomes that movie—but it absolutely wants you to feel like it could.

And that ties into something else: this is a tough one for me to “grade.” It sits so far outside my usual movie-going experience—the pacing, the acting style, the visual language—that I’m never quite sure what scale I’m even using. I can recognize what it’s doing, and I can admire it, but translating that into a neat little number feels almost beside the point.

The story itself is actually very simple. Betrayal, humiliation, reinvention, and then things spiral from there. No complicated plotting, no twists for the sake of twists—just a straight line from emotional wound to inevitable consequences. If anything, that simplicity lets everything else—performance, visuals, mood—do the heavy lifting.

Speaking of betrayal: I hated the professor’s wife. Truly. No nuance, no sympathy—just a straight shot of “I hope this ends badly for you.” So when her boyfriend ultimately leaves her, it lands as deeply satisfying. It feels deliberate, almost moral in its structure, and—this may be my imagination—it has a kind of Russian-literature flavor to it. Actions have consequences, and those consequences are not gentle. And that kind of makers sense, given that the movie was based on a Russian play.

Visually, there are some striking touches, especially the recurring spinning world imagery. It’s simple, but effective—a literalization of disorientation, ego, and collapse. It sticks with you.

But make no mistake: this is a miserable film. Not “bittersweet,” not “melancholy”—miserable. It’s steeped in humiliation and emotional damage, and it never really lets up. Add in the unsettling clown imagery, and it becomes genuinely disturbing in places.

At the center of all of it is Chaney, and he’s incredible. The man was doing things with makeup and facial expression that still feel advanced. Every look, every twitch of the mouth, every stare—he’s completely magnetic. You can’t take your eyes off him, even when you might kind of want to.

Also worth noting: the score in the version we saw was excellent. With a silent film, that matters a lot, and this one absolutely enhanced the mood without overwhelming it.

Joe missed this one, but we all know how that would have gone. He’d have given it a 10. Frankly, I’m pretty sure he’d give anything with Lon Chaney a 10. And you know what? He might not be wrong.