Friday, May 4, 2012

City Lights


City Lights was an anachronism when it first appeared, a new silent production from Charles Chaplin, one of the masters of silent comedy, at a time when the rest of Hollywood was eagerly embracing the arrival of sound. Released in 1931, when silent film was all but dying out, the film opens by immediately mocking the talking pictures, with a scene where a group of local dignitaries deliver speeches commemorating the unveiling of a statue. As they speak, the synchronized soundtrack (Chaplin's one modest concession to the new technology) features muffled nonsense noises, as though Chaplin is making a point, up front, of how irrelevant and silly so much dialogue is — as Norma Desmond would say in Sunset Blvd., it's all just "talk, talk, talk," and Chaplin for one doesn't need it.

In fact, City Lights has only what is absolutely necessary; it's a tightly constructed and incessantly funny flick that's also a moving love story between Chaplin's Tramp and the blind flower seller (Virginia Cherrill) with whom he falls in love. Though the Tramp, as ever, is broke and destitute — in the opening scenes he's sleeping curled up in the arms of a statue — he is determined to help the struggling blind girl and her grandmother (Florence Lee), who face eviction from their apartment while dealing with the girl's poor health. Obviously, this is a story about class, as with many of Chaplin's greatest works, and underneath the film's gentle humor and its romantic warmth lies a bittersweet awareness of the struggles of the working class. In the very first scene between the Tramp and the flower seller, he buys a flower from her, scrounging around in his pockets for the money to give her, and not accepting any change back. As they're talking, an obviously wealthy gentleman runs by, not even glancing at the Tramp or the flower girl, as though they're invisible to him, with no possibility of registering in his mind as he gets into his fancy car. Though he could certainly afford a flower, it would never occur to him to pause and buy one.

Chaplin develops a similar dynamic with the character of the millionaire (Harry Myers) who the Tramp befriends by saving the distraught rich man from killing himself over his divorce, in a very funny and fluidly paced slapstick scene in which the two men not only repeatedly fall into the water, but more importantly, continually teeter on the edge of falling in. (Chaplin knows well that so much of comedy is about restraint and teasing, as when he has the Tramp continually stepping just to the edge of a hole that opens up in the sidewalk, unseen, behind him. We expect the Tramp to fall in but somehow it's even funnier that he doesn't, at least not right away.) The Tramp and the rich man provide another of the film's allegories on wealth, because when the rich man is drunk, he considers the Tramp his best friend for saving him, but whenever he sobers up, he completely forgets about the homeless wanderer who'd rescued him. Thus he alternates between embracing the Tramp as a friend and ordering his servants to kick Chaplin out of his mansion, which the snooty servants very eagerly do.


This commentary on class awareness runs all through the film. The flower girl mistakenly believes the Tramp to be a rich gentleman, and when, in the film's justly legendary final scene, she learns his true identity, Chaplin simply inserts a laconic title card with a rich double meaning — "yes, I can see now" — before Chaplin's endearing final grin. That scene is all about the closeups, the faces, Chaplin hiding his mouth with a flower before finally showing his toothy smile for the final image, the flower girl letting so many emotions ripple across her face as the full import of the Tramp's charity towards her really hits home. Cherrill delivers a wonderful, charming, moving performance, and Chaplin's closeups of her, throughout the film, never fail to be tinged with an element of rapturous awe, something spiritual in the way he idealizes her as an avatar of goodness and purity and feminine beauty — which of course is the way the besotted Tramp sees her.

Of course, the film is also stacked with one delightful comic set piece after another, delivered with the sure hand of a director and performer at the very peak of his talent. Especially marvelous is the boxing match, which has a fluidity and grace to it that couldn't be more different from the crude slapstick violence with which Chaplin started his career at Keystone Studios; here, the boxers really seem to be dancing, a three-way dance that involves a referee who insists on sticking himself right in between the fighters, who trade blows by craning their arms around the other man. The sense of movement here is exhilarating, as the boxers twirl around, sometimes changing "partners" so that one of them is actually squaring off against the referee instead of one another.

City Lights is a marvel of the cinema, a warm and funny classic bursting with the simple humanity of Chaplin's Tramp. Its ending, with its rich emotional complexity and ambiguity, provides one of the most eloquent proofs of the enduring power and beauty of silent film, because with just a few words and those glorious closeups of the leads, Chaplin says so much without actually saying a word aloud.

10 comments:

Sam Juliano said...

CITY LIGHTS is known as “a comedy romance in pantomine” but the film is actually a bittersweet tragedy, and Chaplin’s genius knew it would only work the way it if it stayed a silent at a time when talkies had taken control of Hollywood for several years. Of course you refer to this when you mention 'anachronism' in the opening sentence. It’s Chaplin’s greatest masterpiece, and it’s final scene with the Tramp smiling, and holding a flower near his mouth is one of the truly unforgettable moments in the entire history of the cinema, and one that brings tears as decisively as any film in any genre, from any country. It also features a rapurous operatic score that explodes in the end with the aural underpinnings that lifts this film into an emotional epiphany. Many of the earlier sequences at a park dedication, in a boxing ring, the scenes with the drunken millionaire (Myers, again as you note) who only knows him when he’s drunk, and a sequence when the Tramp swallows a whistle are as funny as anything Chaplin ever wrote, but it’s the humanism that elevates this. The film is told in the spare style of the classics, and is the result of what was purportedly Chaplin’s most painstaking work ever. The difficulty he had with the flower girl Virginia Cherill (who was nearly fired) is now legendary.

This may well be my personal favorite film of all-time, and I'm always thrilled to see a new essay. As expected you didn't disappoint here with an extraordinary piece on it.

Frederik Bové said...

I once saw City Lights with a full symphonic orchestra. A huge hall filled with people in tuxes and gowns, laughing their asses off at the boxing match. Probably the best film-experience I've ever had. Next year, the orchestra played along with Birth of a Nation. That was memorable as well, but for very different reasons...

Ed Howard said...

Sam, the film's definitely bittersweet in tone - as funny as it is, the ending is devastating, and of course that's very typical of Chaplin, who could always balance humor and pathos like few others. This isn't among my top few Chaplins - I think Modern Times is probably his greatest accomplishment - but obviously it's amazing.

Frederik, that sounds like a great experience, and it really speaks to the enduring power this film has.

Sam Juliano said...

Ed--

I agree with yu that MODERN TIMES is a supreme masterpiece and I guess it would fall something like this for me: I am asked what Chaplin's greatest film is every day in a given month and 16 times I would say CITY LIGHTS and 15 days I would say MODERN TIMES. lol. For me it's practically impossible to divide them.

DavidEhrenstein said...

This is Chaplin's Absolute Masterpiece.

I'll nveer forget shwoing it to the six year-old son of a firned of mine. He had never seena silent film before and didn't question it at all. He was overwhelmed. So is anyone with a pulse.

Sam Juliano said...

David Ehrenstein, you are da man!!!!!!!!!!!

Ed Howard said...

Sam, I feel similarly about Modern Times and The Gold Rush.

David, I really love to hear about children getting into great movies. I'll be having a kid of my own soon enough, and I can't wait to show her Chaplin and Keaton and all that great stuff.

Anonymous said...

Ed, congratulations on that wonderful announcement and best wishes to you and your wife! Your daughter will have the best movie education available!

Sam Juliano said...

sorry Ed, the previous comment was from me.

Ed Howard said...

Thanks, Sam!