Chaplin

Watched four Chaplin shorts tonight: Easy Street, The Cure, The Adventurer, and The Immigrant. All the same supporting players, clearly functioning well as a clown ensemble. And they must all have had the same makeup artist too, whose main job it was to draw in ever-more-outrageous peaked eyebrows for Eric Carpenter. (Wait. Carpenter? I just saw this guy's last name in four different sets of credits and now I can't remember it. Someone's last name is Carpenter, that's for sure. His definitely starts with a C, but it might not be Carpenter. But he's the big beefy guy with the eyebrows like bat wings--usually Chaplin's nemesis.)

I watched a fair amount of Chaplin as a kid, and I think I've oversimplified him in memory. It's lovely how Chaplin gives us dirt on the Tramp--he's not an uncorrupted innocent. In Adventurer he's an escaped convict, and though the movie never says outright why he was imprisoned, it's clear from the way he lies readily and cadges drinks that he probably deserved it. In Easy Street, when he holds the baby and thinks it's peeing on him, he gives the kid an honest dirty look--not "I'm a cute clown pretending disapproval with a kid," but "You little bastard, you're peeing on my lap." And even as the slapstick punches fly, the honesty of the reactions--the society matron with ice cream down the back of her dress, the woman realizing the spa's healing waters have been spiked and deciding to let her friends find out for themselves--keeps everything solidly empathetic.

30 minutes elliptical trainer
25 minutes lower-body and core weight training
~7 miles biked
Not even close to enough. I'm not sure I had the energy for much more, but still.