City LightsWhat's that saying? "No good deed goes unpunished?" City Lights is a silent film and comedy, written and directed by Charlie Chaplin, featuring his iconic character of the silver screen: "The Tramp". The tramp saves a drunken millionaire (Harry Myers) from suicide, who in gratitude drags him to party after party. Once sober, the millionaire forgets who the tramp is entirely, and hilarity ensues. Incidentally, the tramp meets a lovely woman selling flowers, discovering that she is blind. When the tramp learns that there is a new technique to cure blindness, he tries to leverage his new relationship with the millionaire to get her the help that she needs.
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City Lights began production in 1928, and was released in 1931. The significance of these dates has everything to do with the fact that The Jazz Singer was released in 1927, marking the beginning of the end of the silent film era. Charlie Chaplin's body of work was almost exclusively comprised of silent movies, yet with the advent of the "talkie", how could he expect City Lights to compete? Simple: star power, namely his own. Chaplin was big and he knew it. He released the film despite the foothold talking pictures had already claimed forevermore--at a higher ticket price even. He pursued a degree of perfection in the film's production that, the story goes, put him and his co-star, Virginia Cherrill (who plays the blind girl), at odds. Yet then and now, City Lights was and is a huge success. It is charming, funny, clever, witty, and poignant all at once. In short, it is--it could be argued--the pinnacle of what embodied the greatest aspects of the silent movie era. The story may be crafted around Chaplin's performance, filled with vignettes that don't directly contribute to the plot at all, yet are nevertheless uproarious and packed with comedy gold. The opening prologue with the dedication of a statue is a perfect example of this. In what is I'm sure a sly criticism of talking pictures, the film opens with a few politicians speaking gibberish, introducing one another. (Some people can talk a lot without really saying anything.) They pull off a cover from a statue while commemorating a park, and who's asleep under it, cradled like Jesus in the "Pietà"? You guessed it. Trying to descend so as to not embarrass himself any further, he tears his trousers on an upward-pointed sword (a part of the statue), and the deliciously awkward comedy continues before he finally frees himself. And this is but one of many great moments to be found in City Lights, often concerning the tramp getting tossed around in a tizzy, running from angry people, and beaming his winsome (if a bit creepy) characteristic smile to diffuse situations, like the boxing match he finds himself in late into the movie. The plot takes its time getting rolling, but picks up in earnest when he saves said millionaire from tying a noose around his neck, with the other end attached to a heavy stone. After both of them fall into the river, the drunken would-be suicide brings the tramp to a fancy restaurant, where the tramp's would-be patron behaves boorishly, and still more comedy ensues. And all the while, we look forward to when we'll get back to the poor blind flower seller, which we do.
There is a great level of artistry in crafting such a detailed comedy gem as City Lights, one that entertains--and whose themes and characterizations are immediately recognizable--almost a hundred years later. This is Chaplin in overdrive; his expressions and physicality is just where it needs to be to set the right tone for the movie. There are so many little touches that attentive audiences will appreciate. For example, the flower seller mistakes the tramp for a rich man, because he drives her home in the car which the millionaire has (temporarily, it seems) given to him while drunk. Drawn to her, he visits her and tries to save up enough money for her operation by wheeling around a trash bin and a shovel, scooping up...well, let's just say that the automobile wasn't as ubiquitous then as it is today. As he prepares to round a bend, he sees a parade of horses go by. He goes the other way, only for an elephant to cross the other direction. Chaplin doesn't have to say what is implied here about the tramp's dirty job, because we get it. Another favorite comes when he manages to obtain a thousand dollars from the millionaire, who after a robbery attempt and some head trauma, believes that the tramp was the one trying to rob him instead. Fleeing the police, cash in pocket, the tramp gives all but one bill to the blind woman. After she thanks him, he slips her the last bill in a gesture that is inescapably sweet yet still perfectly authentic. I realize that I've spoiled some of the best moments in the story, I suppose, but it's impossible not to do so without underscoring how these moments add so much dimension to this character. Chaplin understood that talking in motion pictures may have been the inevitable future of movies, sure, but that it wasn't the only way to tell a story. He takes the best aspects of this style of moviemaking and holds them up for all to see as valid--not antiquated because of new technology still in its infancy. It is an egalitarian effort to represent that a good movie can be more than just meeting expectations; it can (and should) be about exceeding them and highlighting the strengths to be found in any artistic medium.
Recommended for: A hilarious comedy from long past, which remains as fresh and funny as it must have been almost a century ago. City Lights charms and delights at every step, and might be the best entry point for audiences looking to dip their toes into the silent movie era.
There is a great level of artistry in crafting such a detailed comedy gem as City Lights, one that entertains--and whose themes and characterizations are immediately recognizable--almost a hundred years later. This is Chaplin in overdrive; his expressions and physicality is just where it needs to be to set the right tone for the movie. There are so many little touches that attentive audiences will appreciate. For example, the flower seller mistakes the tramp for a rich man, because he drives her home in the car which the millionaire has (temporarily, it seems) given to him while drunk. Drawn to her, he visits her and tries to save up enough money for her operation by wheeling around a trash bin and a shovel, scooping up...well, let's just say that the automobile wasn't as ubiquitous then as it is today. As he prepares to round a bend, he sees a parade of horses go by. He goes the other way, only for an elephant to cross the other direction. Chaplin doesn't have to say what is implied here about the tramp's dirty job, because we get it. Another favorite comes when he manages to obtain a thousand dollars from the millionaire, who after a robbery attempt and some head trauma, believes that the tramp was the one trying to rob him instead. Fleeing the police, cash in pocket, the tramp gives all but one bill to the blind woman. After she thanks him, he slips her the last bill in a gesture that is inescapably sweet yet still perfectly authentic. I realize that I've spoiled some of the best moments in the story, I suppose, but it's impossible not to do so without underscoring how these moments add so much dimension to this character. Chaplin understood that talking in motion pictures may have been the inevitable future of movies, sure, but that it wasn't the only way to tell a story. He takes the best aspects of this style of moviemaking and holds them up for all to see as valid--not antiquated because of new technology still in its infancy. It is an egalitarian effort to represent that a good movie can be more than just meeting expectations; it can (and should) be about exceeding them and highlighting the strengths to be found in any artistic medium.
Recommended for: A hilarious comedy from long past, which remains as fresh and funny as it must have been almost a century ago. City Lights charms and delights at every step, and might be the best entry point for audiences looking to dip their toes into the silent movie era.