Charlie Chaplin Hits the Heights with City Lights

                A sublime blend of comedy and plausible sentimentality, 1931’s City Lights represents possibly writer/producer/director/star Charlie Chaplin’s most satisfying and moving depiction of one of the most famous and endearing characters in cinema, his beguiling “Little Tramp,” already a signature of a roster of durable silent Chaplin hits, including The Kid, The Gold Rush and The Circus. This innocence, free-spirited drifter persona allows a fitting showcase for Chaplin’s gifts as a physical comedian and skillful actor in Lights, with the legend artfully illustrating both impressive dexterity in maneuvering through scenes wherein his agility is put to the test (such as the introductory scene with the tramp working his way up, down and around a statue) as well as compelling, insightful playing during the more emotionally-driven moments, including an ending that is simply among the most poignant, powerful and unforgettable in film history. Aided by an excellent group of players, specifically radiant leading lady Virginia Cherrill and Harry C. Myers as an inebriated millionaire who befriends the tramp, Chaplin pulls off one of the greatest (nearly) one-man endeavors ever committed to cinema, majestically handling the tricky task of combining the scenario’s touching and farcical components with grace, taste and an unforced, honest sensibility.

                Clearly putting all his substantial talents into Lights, his first film with at least some sound elements, with inventive synchronized sound effects coming into play throughout the film, but no clear dialogue meshing with the subtitles, Chaplin builds a series of cleverly stage, mainly humorous vignettes around the simple tale of an amiable metropolitan tramp who encounters a lovely, blind flower girl and devotedly works to help her regain her sight, assisted in his efforts by the aid of a rich man who, when drunk, considers the tramp is best friend, while quickly forgetting they’ve ever met once he sobers up. Leading to a host of challenges for the vagabond. In addition to stellar work in front of and behind the camera previously mentioned, Chaplin also provides a playful musical score that sets a nice rhythm for the many bits of comedic business (with Jose Padilla composing the more touching melody for the blind girl’s theme music) and, in tandem with Willard Nico, is responsible for the accomplished editing, which helps present the rapidly-paced incidents over the 86-minute running time with clarity and the appropriate tonality for each sequence, sometimes deftly switching from slapstick to heartfelt drama within the space of a few seconds.

                From the opening scene, it’s apparent Chaplin had honed his most famous screen personage to perfection since the tramp’s first appearance on screen in 1914. Chaplin craftily manages to imbue the loveable character with individuality and believability, using vivid body language, agility and often-bemusing facial expressions to form a fully rounded character that remains fresh and entertaining over ninety years after the film’s release. Chaplin’s nimbleness is on full display in possibly the film’s most colorful set piece, wherein the tramp is forced into a boxing bout wherein he seems ill-matched to his replacement competitor (veteran character actor Hank Mann, already nearly twenty years into his five decades in film), after first agreeing with the initial boxer to “go easy” and split the take. A title card at the film’s outset states the movie is “A Comedy Romance in Pantomime,” and this spirited, uproarious and literally knockabout sequence fully conveys the comic gesticulation the credits refer to, with Chaplin at his most limber bouncing around and off his foe in the ring as the match progresses, with an audience on tenterhooks as they await the tramp's fate facing apparently unsurmountable odds.

Conversely, without overdoing the sentiment, Chaplin artfully lends a poetic air to scenes between the infatuated tramp and the serene object of his affections, who believes he is a benevolent millionaire, a notion the tramp tries to uphold as he strives to improve the impoverished girl’s fortunes, creating a captivating chemistry with Cherrill as this oddball couple’s romance blossoms in a simple, enchanting manner. There’s a sense of purity and tenderness in the delineation of this relationship that draws a sympathetic viewer in, making them hope that somehow these seemingly mismatched societal misfits will be able to overcome their setbacks and find happiness together. From their first encounter to the unmatched denouement this duo is among the most winsome in cinema and, whether working in a humorous or serious vein, Chaplin’s tramp remains a viable figure thorough the film, admirably mixing the humane aspects of the role with stylized comedy to bring off a memorable portrait of a down-on-his-luck but decent, understanding and caring hero.

Although accumulating limited entries in her filmography during a brief career in movies, the alluring Virginia Cherrill would gain cinema immortality with her delicate, intuitive work as the vulnerable, romantic flower girl. Wisely playing the role in a direct-yet-subtle manner, the sincerity Cherrill infuses into the role and her unfussy acting approach makes her performance hold up in a manner that allows modern audiences to feel great empathy towards the girl’s plight, just as strongly as Cherrill must have affected viewers upon the initial release of Lights. Aided by Chaplin’s keen direction, she does a wonderful job of suggesting the character’s blindness without using overly dramatic gestures or blocking that would have been a normal aspect of enacting such a role circa 1931, and for some time after that. Cherrill and Chaplin work with exquisite synchronicity during their few scenes together, creating a satisfying and unique bond that stays with a viewer. Cherrill’s accomplished, stately work in her first major role suggested a great career as a leading lady of talent and distinction awaited her, but after a few more features, including appearing the same year alongside Janet Gaynor and Charles Farrell in Delicious, Cherrill would abandon movies after 1936 for marriage to an Earl (thereby becoming a Countess via this third union; her second had been to no less than Cary Grant) before a long-term fourth and final marriage, with her beautiful portrait of the tranquil, humane maiden enduring as her most invaluable contribution to the cinema.

In the key role of the affluent but frequently soused millionaire who views the tramp as his best friend, except when he’s sober, Harry C. Myers does a deft job of defining the character’s shifting loyalties in a colorful, amusing fashion. As his butler James, who tolerates the tramp’s intrusion into his domain, then relishes the opportunity to treat the poor man with distain in the most forthright manner, Al Ernest Garcia, in the fifth of his six films with Chaplin, also sparks his character with an entertaining flourish. In her final film, Florence Lee adds a nice touch as the girl’s forlorn grandmother. For years movie folklore had also place Jean Harlow in the film as a party guest, but it appears her scene was cut from the film.

            Upon release in late January of 1931, the public embraced City Lights with open arms, allowing the film to reap in rentals of $4,250,000 during its first run (according to a 1932 article in Variety) placing it at #2 at the time among the top-grossing films of the early sound period, trailing only Al Jolson’s The Singing Fool. Critical praise which has never wavered was also evident, with the films placing on the top ten lists for the year’s best films at both The New York Times and The National Board of Review. Lights has also maintained a constant presence on the esteemed Sight and Sound polls conducted since 1952 of the greatest films ever made, conducted every ten years since 1952, from a high ranking of #2 (alongside The Gold Rush) on the initial 1952 list, to current placement at #36 on the most recent 2022 poll. Placement on several AFI polls also indicates the movie’s enduring popularity, with Lights coming in at #76 on the institute’s initial “100 Years. . .100 Movies” 1998 poll, before rising steeply to #11 on the AFI’s 10^th anniversary poll, a year before ranking at #1 on the AFI’s list of top romantic comedies, while the National Film Registry inducted the film for preservation on the organization’s 1991 list. The lasting appeal of City Lights, with its power to entertain via great comedic business while emotionally resonating with viewers as the unlikely fragile, warm relationship formed between the tramp and the ethereal flower girl grows, makes this unbeatable classic a prime choice for those in the mood to see an exemplary comic romance that is sure to linger long after that profoundly moving, justifiably famous final fade-out.