You know...

...I think I screwed up.  I should have saved this film until the end.  I started with Chaplin, I should have ended with Chaplin.  I really wanted the film I saved for last to be the last one, though.

Still.  This was a mistake.

Last chance to watch this genius on the road to finishing up watching the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition).

Film 98

98.  "City Lights" (AFI Rank #11)

I am not going to pull any punches.  Hollywood has never, nor will ever have, seen a force like Charles Chaplin.  Period.  You may prefer Buster Keaton's comedy, and I have no argument there.  Buster Keaton was often funnier.  Buster was also a hell of a director.  The Marx Brothers were brilliantly funny, and made really funny films.  Harold Lloyd's star never really shown as brightly, but he was also amazing.  However, no one, and I mean NO ONE, filled the screen like Charlie Chaplin did, with the combination of writing, performing, directing, producing, composing, or you name it.  This is the gold standard, and his like will never be seen again.  That a silent film actor/director could, over 70 years since the work had been completed, occupy three slots on the AFI Top 100, and it might feel like too little reverence is paid him, is testament to that.

How do I know that, personally?

Well, personally, it's because it's been 85 years since this film was made, and this time through, I watched it with 3 children who howled with laughter (2 of those children had seen the film multiple times before this viewing), a girlfriend who was in tears at the beautiful ending, and myself, who just reveled in audible gasping awe at the commitments Chaplin made as an actor, and some subtle, remarkable things he did as a director.  I've posted a picture of an example of an acting moment above, between the titles of this post.

It is easy, in today's modern times (heh), to dismiss Chaplin as merely a comedian, or a producer of bits/sketches that, while brilliant, aren't real "movie making."  And doing so would show a great ignorance of the man as a filmmaker.  Yes.  I said filmmaker.  Chaplin was more than a character/caricature.  He was also an obsessive, and at times tyrannical, filmmaker with a penchant for unyielding perfectionism.  What was remarkable about Chaplin was that he actually owned his own studio, and paid for this film entirely out of his own pocket, so he could do whatever the hell he wanted.  And what Chaplin wanted, starting three years prior to release, was a silent film called "City Lights," to compete with an industry that had gone entirely into "talkies."   Chaplin had a story to tell, and he wanted to tell it through pantomime.  And by God, what a story he tells.

Utilizing his universally famous "Little Tramp" character, "City Lights" is the tale of a down-and-out vagrant who is mistaken for a wealthy customer by a gorgeous, but blind, flower peddler.  Along the journey of the film, we see the Little Tramp meet a drunken millionaire, who, when in his cups, alternates between loving the Tramp and wanting to end is own life.  When sober, the millionaire doesn't remember the Tramp at all, but every time he sees him while drunk, he's his best friend.  Through a series of deceptions, the Tramp wins the girl's heart, and spends the balance of the film on various plots to support her and her grandmother, including cleaning up the streets from various animals' droppings, and boxing.  During this time, we see a newspaper headline about a doctor who has discovered a cure for blindness. Finally, following a drunken evening at his great friend the millionaire's house, the Tramp is accused of stealing money, after kinda thwarting a plot by some thieves.  He is caught and sent to prison for about 9 months.  When he emerges, he has lost his shirt, his pants are shredded, and he looks beaten.  We then get one of the most beautiful endings to a film, ever.  I'd have a tough time negotiating between this film and "It's a Wonderful Life" for great endings.  In fact, I'd argue the last two films in the quest, "Casablanca," and "Dr. Strangelove..." are way up on the list, also.  Hmmmph.  End of the list, brilliant endings of films.  I think I like closure.  I have to talk about the end of this film, and will below, but I will warn you before I do, in case you've not seen this film and this writing inspires you to do so.

This film is chock full of segmented comedy sketches - we have the opening statue sketch, the riverfront suicide sketch, the dance hall sketch, the animal droppings sketch, the cheese/soap sketch, the underwear sketch, the boxing sketch, the party sketch, and the break-in sketch.  In those sketches are a subset of bits, like the wrong rope bit, the cigar bit, the spaghetti bit, the dancing bit, the chair bit, the horse parade bit, the elephant bit, soap bubble bit, the rabbit's foot bit, the referee bit, the bell bit, the whistle hiccup bit, and the blackjack bit.  All of these things are like singles, but the album they come from is so amazing, it's tough to see past the songs.  Framing all of these timeless comedy sketches is the story of the blind girl and the Little Tramp.  Ultimately, THAT is what makes this film great.  When I was a child, my parents would borrow Laurel and Hardy reels from the library, and show them to us on their home movie projector.  They were shorts, and the scenes were fairly simple, yet hilarious.  That's what all these sketches are, essentially.  They are little stand-alone shorts that are part of a greater piece...yet somehow they make that story better.  Much better.

My children love to narrate the pantomime as it occurs, putting words in the characters' mouths that match their actions.  Telling a story, and making it understood without words...well...that's something quite special.  But that is not to say that "City Lights" is 100% silent.  No, Chaplin composed the music for the score, and it's quite good at evoking mood at all times.  Also, there is a scene which features "speaking."  It is right at the opening of the film, and we see members of the city dignitary giving speeches at the unveiling of a new civil statue.  Their speeches are a series of nonsensical sounds, which were made by Chaplin speaking into some sort of taut paper device.  It sounds like a kazoo to me, but would think a comb wrapped in paper is also possible.  No, the film isn't a talkie, but Chaplin uses speaking to great effect in this scene.  And of course, the comedian left alone on a statue is rife with comedic possibilities.  Chaplin hits them all.

The boxing sequence is physical comedy genius.  That involves three people to make it work.  And it is freaking gold.  The dance hall sequence is no less astounding, and again is dependent on multiple participants to work.  Harry Myers, as the millionaire, is exceptionally good in this film.  What I want to discuss, and a scene that had me shaking my head in awe, is perhaps too simple, but the kind of thing that I notice, 'cause I'm a weirdo.  When you watch this film, I want you to watch Chaplin in the whistle/hiccup bit.  Every hiccup shown has a start, a middle, and an ending physically, and it's ALWAYS the same.  That's the kind of thing great physical comedians understand, through decades of practice - that if you always keep the bit detailed, and make a gag a series of small movements, suddenly it looks real.  I had the pleasure of directing a friend of mine in a scene where he had to fall down a flight of stairs.  The individual components of the fall were hardly complicated, but when seen in "full speed," it looked like he'd fallen down the stairs, when he had, in fact, just taken a few carefully choreographed large steps, followed by a somersault at the end.  I didn't choreograph it, I hired a professional for that, but the work was astounding to watch.  Knowing the few things I know about stunts/stage combat, it all comes down to selling it.  Watch Chaplin sell those hiccups.  Every single one of them.  It's magic.

Around all these gags, as I've mentioned, is the love story.  Virginia Cherrill plays the blind flower seller, and she is gorgeous, looks blind, and we see her heart all over her performance.  She's not just beautiful, but we see a beautiful spirit in her.  The Tramp falls in love with that spirit, and once smitten, is unable to think of himself at all.  What a wonderful thing to have.  He wants to take care of her, yet he is unable to take care of himself.  There is something about the Tramp I want to mention, though.  Yes, his pants are ripped in the seat at the beginning of the film, but the rest of his ensemble is in pretty decent shape.  His insistence on decent, if ill-fitting clothes, helps him in his ruse, and helps establish the mistake.  By the end of the film, though, the Tramp is different.  Winding up in jail for stealing from the millionaire, he gives the money to the girl, every single dime.  When released from prison, he's no longer capable of pride, and has slid even further down the societal ladder.  He looks wiped out.  It's haunting.  It's no longer funny.  Then comes the ending.  You may stop reading now, if you wish to see the film without knowing the ending.

SERIOUSLY.  STOP READING IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW THE ENDING.  THIS WILL BE HERE WHEN YOU'RE DONE.

The final minute of this film is achingly beautiful.  If you can watch it without feeling warmly sentimental, then you need to get yourself checked out.  We see the blind girl, in a shop that is obviously doing all right financially.  She is arranging flowers...but then we see her check out her reflection in a mirror.  She's had the surgery, and is no longer blind.  The Tramp, clearly licked, and fresh from jail, winds up at the familiar street corner where he spent the beginning of the film.  That street corner turns out to be the location of the flower shop, and the no longer blind girl laughs at the Tramp as she sees him struggle in the street.  He then sees her, and is incapable of movement.  He just stares.  She then comes out to offer him a flower and a silver dollar.  He refuses, but she shoves the money and bloom into his hand.  But...when she touches him, she recognizes him.  Chaplin's face is a proud, yet embarrassed smile, and hers is one of pure love.  The last title card, after the Tramp asks is she can see is..."Yes, I can see now."  And the final shot of his face melts whatever was left of us.  It's a remarkably poignant moment in a film littered with gags, and ties the whole thing together in a wildly satisfying conclusion.  As I said, it's impossible not to feel warmth when watching it.  The kids don't understand how great it is...yet.  Now that they've been taught to love the film, I have no doubt that I've set them up to love this as adults, when I hope they understand it better.

OK, I'M DONE WITH THE TALK OF THE ENDING.

The acting in this film tells the story so magnificently, it's hard to not to just say "the acting is great."  Know what?  The acting is great.  The pace is great.  The composition of photography is great.  Everything about the film is great, and I have no quibbles.  Chaplin called it his greatest film.  AFI agrees, and put it just outside of the top 10, while later ranking it as the greatest romantic comedy of all time.  I'd submit that this film belongs in the top 10, for what it accomplishes without benefit of color, or sound.  I'd boot "Schindler's List" out of the Top 10 and replace it with this one.  Because I think "Schindler's List" is a great film, but not Top 10.  This film is a phenomenal achievement, and I am so glad that I found it before I got to this list, and so glad I kept it until near the end of the quest.  I love it.  Just love it.

There is no cinema without Charlie Chaplin.  This is his greatest work.  Do your homework.  Watch it.  Watch it again. Whatever.  Just watch this film.

I have to say this again. Ebert's review is here.  I DO NOT READ THESE IN ADVANCE.  Ebert even lists the gags, just like I did.  Holy shit.  Holy shit.