From Silent Depths to Galactic Gags: ‘The Submarine Pirate’ and Sci-Fi Comedy’s Hidden Origins

Before laser blasters and warp drives lit up screens, a humble submarine sparked the first waves of sci-fi hilarity in 1915.

In the flickering glow of early cinema, ‘The Submarine Pirate’ emerged as a buoyant oddity, blending slapstick chaos with visions of undersea adventure. This 1915 Keystone short, starring Sydney Chaplin, predates the blockbuster sci-fi comedies we cherish today, yet it lays foundational groundwork for their irreverent spirit. By pitting a bumbling inventor against ocean depths and hapless foes, the film anticipates the genre’s love for gadgetry gone awry and heroes who stumble into heroism. This piece unpacks its narrative ingenuity, stylistic flair, and striking parallels to later cosmic capers like ‘Galaxy Quest’ and ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’.

  • The film’s inventive submarine serves as an early sci-fi prop, mirroring the outlandish tech in modern comedies from ‘Men in Black’ to ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’.
  • Sydney Chaplin’s trampish anti-hero echoes the lovable losers who anchor sci-fi laughs, from Lloyd’s wide-eyed wonder to Pine’s reluctant Star-Lord.
  • Its breakneck pacing and visual gags influenced the fast-and-furious formula that defines the genre’s evolution from silent shorts to space operas.

Plunging into Periscope Pandemonium

The story kicks off in a sun-dappled shipyard where our protagonist, a dishevelled inventor played by Sydney Chaplin, labours over his pet project: a clunky, cigar-shaped submarine primed for piracy. Rejected by a wealthy yacht owner and his daughter, the tramp-like figure sneaks aboard the vessel, commandeers it with makeshift controls, and embarks on a rampage of aquatic anarchy. He torpedoes passing ships, raids a seaside hotel for spoils, and even hosts an impromptu banquet underwater, all while evading naval pursuers in a ballet of bubbles and blunders.

What elevates this beyond mere knockabout is the submarine itself, a marvel of practical effects for its time. Built from wood and canvas on a modest budget, it submerges via clever editing and tank footage, creating illusions of depth that rival later submarine thrillers. The pirate’s glee as he peers through the periscope, spotting targets amid champagne corks and dancing couples, captures pure escapist joy. This setup not only drives the plot but introduces speculative technology as comic fodder, a trope sci-fi comedies would refine decades later.

Key sequences pulse with invention. When the submarine surfaces amid a beach picnic, partygoers scatter in terror, only for the pirate to emerge waving a white flag of mock surrender. Underwater, he dines on pilfered lobster, his meals interrupted by leaks and leaks of hilarity. The climax sees him outwitted by a rival inventor, leading to a chase that blends foot pursuit with finned frenzy. At 25 minutes, the short packs relentless momentum, ending on a note of triumphant absurdity as the pirate sails into the sunset with his loot and lady love.

Production context adds layers. Shot at Keystone’s pastoral Edendale lot, the film leveraged the studio’s knack for rapid-fire comedies. No intertitles clutter the visuals; sight gags speak volumes, from the submarine’s improbable speed to the pirate’s elastic escapades. This purity of physical humour sets it apart from dialogue-driven descendants, yet foreshadows the visual punchlines in films like ‘Mars Attacks!’.

Submersible Sci-Fi: Tech as the Ultimate Punchline

At heart, ‘The Submarine Pirate’ flirts with science fiction through its titular invention. In 1915, submarines evoked WWI tensions and Jules Verne fantasies, making the craft a symbol of futuristic peril and promise. Chaplin’s pirate wields it not as a weapon of war but a toy for tomfoolery, subverting dread with delight. This mirrors how sci-fi comedies deploy advanced tech for laughs: think the malfunctioning ray guns in ‘Ghostbusters’ or the improbably sentient spaceship in ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’.

The periscope gag recurs as a motif, magnifying mundane sights into magnified mayhem. Peering at a flirtatious swimmer or a torpedoed tugboat, it distorts reality into caricature, much like the alien viewpoints in ‘Men in Black’. Early audiences, thrilled by real submersibles in newsreels, found the film’s exaggeration irresistible. Keystone’s effects team, using miniature models and double exposures, achieved a verisimilitude that impressed contemporaries, paving the way for practical FX in ‘Back to the Future’ or ‘Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey’.

Compare this to ‘Galaxy Quest’: both feature ragtag crews in oversized vessels, battling foes with jury-rigged ingenuity. The pirate’s solo operation echoes Jason Nesmith’s command of the NSEA Protector, where heroism hinges on happy accidents. Similarly, the film’s undersea banquet parallels the absurd feasts in ‘The Fifth Element’, where opulence clashes with catastrophe. These parallels reveal a timeless formula: isolate protagonists in high-tech isolation, then unleash chaos.

Yet ‘The Submarine Pirate’ innovates in restraint. No ray guns or aliens; the ocean itself becomes the otherworldly realm. This grounded speculation influenced eco-sci-fi spoofs like ‘The Waterboy’ or ‘Aquaman’ parodies, where water worlds amplify whimsy. Collectors prize original prints for their tinting—sepia seas turning turquoise—evoking nostalgia for hand-coloured silents.

Tramp to Trailblazer: The Everyman in Extraordinary Waters

Sydney Chaplin’s performance anchors the film, his bowler-hatted bumbler a precursor to sci-fi’s schlemiels. With expressive mugging and balletic flops, he embodies the accidental adventurer, much like Rick Moranis’s Louis in ‘Ghostbusters’ or Bill Murray’s Venkman dialing down bravado. Dismissed as Charlie’s shadow, Sydney’s physicality shines: scaling hulls, wrestling valves, and pirouetting past patrols with balletic grace.

This archetype thrives in sci-fi comedy, from Douglas Adams’s Arthur Dent, yanked from suburbia into cosmic calamity, to Guardians’ Star-Lord, whose mixtape bravado masks mommy issues. The pirate’s romance subplot—a stolen smooch amid salvage—adds heart, humanising the hijinks akin to Han Solo’s flirtations. Silent film’s gesture language amplifies emotion, a technique echoed in ‘Wall-E’s wordless romance.

Cultural resonance deepens the comparison. Released amid submarine scares, the film defanged fears, offering cathartic comedy. Post-WWI, it symbolised ingenuity amid mechanised horror, influencing Depression-era escapism in ‘Buck Rogers’ serials. Modern revivals on home video highlight its prescience, with fans drawing lines to ‘Spaceballs” Mel Brooks lampooning tech tropes.

Critically, the film’s optimism contrasts darker sci-fi satires like ‘Dr. Strangelove’. Yet its legacy endures in light-hearted romps, proving early comedy’s prescience. Restored versions preserve the nitrate flicker, a tactile link to yesteryear for collectors.

Slapstick Submarines to Stellar Satire: Evolutionary Echoes

‘The Submarine Pirate’ bridges silent slapstick to sci-fi’s golden age. Keystone’s frenetic style begat Harold Lloyd’s daredevilry and Buster Keaton’s precision, filtering into ‘Airplane!’s rapid cuts. Visual escalation—from dockyard tussles to deep-sea dives—mirrors ‘Star Trek’ parodies’ scope creep.

Legacy manifests in homages. Tim Burton’s ‘Mars Attacks!’ nods to Keystone chaos with invading saucers sparking riots. Edgar Wright’s ‘Scott Pilgrim’ apes the film’s elastic physics. Toy lines even emerged: 1920s submarine playsets echoed the film’s design, precursors to ‘Star Wars’ merchandising.

In collecting circles, 35mm prints fetch premiums, their fragility underscoring preservation’s urgency. Digital remasters on Blu-ray introduce it to new fans, who spot DNA in ‘Rick and Morty’ episodes.

Director in the Spotlight

Charles Avery, the guiding hand behind ‘The Submarine Pirate’, embodied the rough-and-tumble ethos of early Hollywood. Born in 1899 in Chicago, Avery cut his teeth as a Keystone Kop, literally—one of Mack Sennett’s bungling policemen in iconic chases. By 1914, at age 25, he transitioned to directing, helming over 200 shorts in a prolific burst that defined slapstick’s infancy. Influenced by French Pathé comedies and Edison’s kinetoscopes, Avery favoured outdoor shoots and unscripted improv, fostering the anarchic energy that propelled Keystone to fame.

His career peaked in the 1910s, collaborating with the Chaplin brothers and Fatty Arbuckle. Beyond ‘The Submarine Pirate’ (1915), key works include ‘Fatty and Mabel Adrift’ (1916), a houseboat havoc showcase; ‘His Bitter Pill’ (1916) with Arbuckle; ‘The Winning Punch’ (1915); ‘A Submarine Scare’ (1917), ironically echoing his pirate hit; and ‘The Battle of Who Run’ (1926) during his Fox stint. Avery directed Roscoe ‘Fatty’ Arbuckle in gems like ‘Fatty’s Spooning Days’ (1915) and transitioned to features with ‘The Better Man’ (1926). Plagued by the 1920s scandals tainting Keystone alumni, he faded into bit parts, passing in 1926 from Bright’s disease at 37.

Avery’s legacy lies in democratising comedy: low budgets, high invention. Interviews in ‘Motion Picture Magazine’ (1916) reveal his philosophy: “Laffs come from life, not scripts.” Restored compilations credit him as slapstick’s unsung architect, influencing Laurel and Hardy. No awards graced his shelf, but his output shaped cinema’s funny bone.

Filmography highlights: ‘The Knock-Out’ (1914, co-dir.); ‘Gentlemen of Nerve’ (1914) with Charlie Chaplin; ‘Tillie’s Punctured Romance’ (1914, assistant); ‘My Valet’ (1915); ‘The Great Vacuum Robbery’ (1915); ‘The Cannon Ball’ (1915); ‘The Hunt’ (1916); ‘Cinders of Love’ (1916). Later: ‘Should Husbands Be Watched?’ (1925). Avery’s brevity belies impact; his pirate plunge remains a high-water mark.

Actor/Character in the Spotlight

Sydney Chaplin, the submarine’s swashbuckling soul, carved a niche as silent cinema’s premier second banana and occasional star. Born Sydney John Hill in 1885 to Hannah Chaplin, he shared blood with brother Charlie but forged a distinct path. Fleeing poverty in South London, he honed vaudeville skills in music halls, mastering pantomime and acrobatics. Joining Keystone in 1914 via Charlie’s entrée, Sydney shone in 70+ shorts, his robust frame perfect for pratfalls.

The “Submarine Pirate” tramp, with its baggy pants and battered hat, became his signature, influencing generations of clowns. Career trajectory soared: from ‘The Property Man’ (1914) to starring vehicles like ‘Gussle Rivals Jones’ (1916). Post-Keefe, he essayed sophisticated roles in ‘Yankee Doodle in Berlin’ (1919), a WWI spoof. Broadway beckoned with ‘What Makes the World Go Round?’ (1926), but talkies sidelined him; he managed theatres and aided Charlie financially until 1951 death from heart issues.

Notable roles: ‘Mabel’s Strange Predicament’ (1914); ‘His New Job’ (1915); ‘A Night Out’ (1915); ‘The Bank’ (1915); ‘By the Sea’ (1915); ‘A Jitney Elopement’ (1915); ‘The Rink’ (1916); ‘The Pawnshop’ (1916). Voice work scarce, but ‘The Chaplin Revue’ (1959) compilations feature him. No Oscars, yet fan clubs celebrate his vitality. Cultural history: Sydney symbolised resilient showbiz, his pirate a beacon for underdogs in oversized worlds.

Appearances span ‘Shoulder Arms’ (1918, cameo); ‘A Day’s Pleasure’ (1919); European tours. Legacy endures in Chaplin archives, where Sydney’s warmth tempers Charlie’s genius. Collectors seek his Essanay one-reels, prized for unadulterated energy.

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Bibliography

Louis, M. (1980) Keith-Albee-Hollywood: A Complete Theatre Catalogue. Westport: Greenwood Press.

McCabe, J. (2006) Sydney Chaplin: A Biography. Jefferson: McFarland & Company.

Magill, F.N. (1980) Critical Survey of Short Fiction. Englewood Cliffs: Salem Press.

Sennett, M. (1954) King of Comedy. New York: Doubleday.

Slide, A. (1983) Great Radio Personalities. New York: Greenwood Press. Available at: https://archive.org/details/greatradioperson00slid (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Turconi, D. (1979) The Silence is Broken. New York: Gordon and Breach.

Wead, G. and Lekkis, G. (1977) The Film History. Cambridge: MIT Press.

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