On Saturday, Oct. 11 at 4:30 p.m., the Cameo Art House Theatre will present a rare screening of Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator. More than just a film, Chaplin’s 1940 satirical masterpiece stands as one of cinema’s most daring political statements. It’s a film that made audiences laugh while also forcing them to confront the terrifying realities of dictatorship, hate and war.
When The Great Dictator premiered in 1940, the world was in turmoil. Adolf Hitler had already plunged Europe into chaos and America had yet to join the fight. To take on such a subject in a comedy was audacious, if not outright dangerous. But Chaplin, who had spent decades captivating audiences with his silent era “Tramp” character, understood that laughter could cut sharper than anger. By creating a dual role, playing both Adenoid Hynkel, a ruthless dictator clearly modeled on Hitler and a humble Jewish barber who is his double, Chaplin highlighted the absurdity of tyranny and the humanity of its victims.
The film’s mixture of slapstick and satire is perfect. From Hynkel’s dance with the inflatable globe to the endless speeches filled with nonsensical jargon, Chaplin dismantled the image of the dictator, reducing him to a dangerous clown. Yet for all its comedy, the film is anchored by one of the most moving moments in cinema history: Chaplin’s final speech, in which the barber, mistaken for Hynkel, delivers an impassioned plea for kindness, democracy and peace. It is a speech that continues to echo across generations, often shared anew in times of global uncertainty.
For the Cameo Art House Theatre, presenting The Great Dictator is more than just programming; it is a celebration of cinema’s ability to endure and inspire. Independent theaters like the Cameo have long been champions of films that remind us why we go to the movies in the first place: not only to be entertained, but also to think, feel and see the world in new ways.
This screening is particularly special to me on a personal level. Years ago, I had the rare opportunity to hold an original 35mm print of The Great Dictator when the Cameo showed the film. As someone who has spent much of his life surrounded by movies, both in classrooms and theaters, that moment was nothing short of awe-inspiring. The film reels were heavy, encased in their metal canisters, the kind only seen in projection booths or archives. This film reel happened to be the only traveling print in the US, so gloves and extra precautions were necessary.
That encounter deepened my appreciation for Chaplin’s artistry and for the medium of film as a whole. We often forget, in the age of digital streaming, that movies were once fragile, physical things. They traveled from theater to theater, city to city, carried by projectionists and handled with care. To hold The Great Dictator in its original 35mm form was to connect not only with Chaplin, but also with everyone who had ever sat in a darkened room and watched that same piece of film flicker to life.
And now, with the Cameo’s screening, audiences will have their own chance to share in that magic. While the version on screen may not be the very same reel I once touched since the Cameo (and most theaters) is now all digital, the experience of gathering together, of seeing Chaplin’s work projected larger than life, is what truly matters.
It’s important, too, to remember that The Great Dictator was a deeply personal project for Chaplin. He financed it himself, pouring in thousands at a time when the outcome was uncertain. He risked alienating audiences who preferred his silent-era Tramp, and he risked angering governments and political leaders who saw his satire as dangerous. But Chaplin pressed forward, declaring later that had he known the full extent of Nazi atrocities, he might never have dared to make it. That tension between comedy and tragedy is what gives the film its timeless edge.
Watching it today, one can’t help but marvel at its relevance. Chaplin’s lampooning of authoritarianism, his warning about hatred, and his ultimate appeal for empathy speak just as powerfully in 2025 as they did in 1940. Perhaps that is why screenings like this one at the Cameo are so vital. They remind us that art does not fade; it continues to speak, provided we are willing to listen.
So on Oct. 11, as the lights dim and Chaplin appears once more, audiences will witness more than just a film. They will be part of a tradition that stretches back 85 years. For me, the memory of holding that 35mm print will linger as the projector whirs to life. And for everyone else who attends, perhaps there will be a moment or a line, a gesture, a laugh that connects them across time to Chaplin, to the past and to the enduring power of cinema.
Tickets for the screening are available now at the Cameo box office and online.