Telesphore Lelievre-de-St-Boniface III (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} 32elvismovies) wrote,@ 2007-08-09 00:30:00 |
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Chaplin's City Lights
After spending Saturday afternoon rummaging [1] through bins of old New Yorker magazines and dusty sleeves of long-abandoned sheet music, Melissa and I caught a double bill of Charles Chaplin's The Kid(1921) and City Lights (1931) at the Cinematheque Ontario. I've never been able to decide on a favorite Chaplin feature, but if you were to ask me which one I've seen most often, City Lights takes the prize, so I won't have much to say about The Kid here, which is a masterpiece in itself.
City Lights, Chaplin's fifth feature film, began production in March of 1928, just as talking pictures were becoming commonplace, and Chaplin felt immense pressure from his distributors and the movie-going public to release a sound film. Chaplin, ever so world weary, knew that by releasing a talking picture he would alienate his audience in the non-english speaking world. Moreover, some could say that he fell into a camp that believed talking pictures would not survive. He compromised (I use that term loosely - Chaplin was a man who had complete creative control over his art) by offering a beautifully nuanced, interactive score, flowing with the images in the way an ordinary silent film would not, and on top of that, the inclusion of the odd sound effect. In the opening sequence, the Tramp kills two birds with one stone, as he trumps both the establishment, and the Hollywood community with the inclusion of gibberish spoken by the white collar crowd. In a later scene, at the party hosted by the millionaire, he once again mocks the talkies, where a singer, about to entertain the party-goers, is constantly interrupted by Chaplin, who has swallowed a whistle and hiccups incessantly. Chaplin could milk a gag and keep innovating it - the hiccup could have been enough on its own, but no, Chaplin took it a step further by having it call all the neighboring dogs in to the party, ensuring that no song was to be sung and in effect keep this flicker entirely silent.
There are so many wonderful elements to this film, so many wonderful little scenes, and that makes it difficult to pick a favorite. Some Vaudeville staples, like the scenario with the millionaire, played by Harry Myers, where the suicidal businessman only recognizes Charlie as his best friend when he's drunk, yet has his butler escort him out of his mansion when sober. That gag had already been used by Chaplin himself, Laurel & Hardy, and Charley Chase, and it will still be funny one hundred years from now. The boxing scene with former Keystone alumni Hank Mann balances on a tightrope between pure slapstick and ballet. Chaplin had attempted this concept in 1915 while at Essanay, in a short called The Champion. Of all the amazing moments, one cannot deny that what really holds this film together; the Tramp's love for the blind flower girl, played by Virginia Cherrill. The final shot of the film, which Woody Allen would recreate in the finale of Manhattan several decades later, is held there until a slow fade-out drowns the screen with darkness, and the score undertakes its finale. It is one of the highlights, one of the top achievements of Chaplin's illustrious career.
Nothing really dates this film; It's pure emotion. It could take place anywhere and anytime. You're not saddled with the political baggage that would drive his later films like Modern Times, The Great Dictator, and A King in New York, and that is what makes this film such a timeless, innocent classic.
These films will always be around, but I think we take them for granted. We share a "I can see it any time" attitude brought about by the immediate accessibility of media in our day and age. With the state of revival cinema in Toronto being the way it is, we should be thankful we have the Cinematheque, and those who make it possible to see these films. I think the Cinematheque is my new favorite place on earth, and it really reminds us that a place like this is really where movies ought to be shown. Hearing people laugh and cry at a film made by a man, who, at the time of its release, was deemed old-fashioned, yet still has such an effect on theatre-goers after seventy-five years is quite a powerful legacy.
[1]I picked up about a half dozen New Yorker issues from the early 50's and a few from the early 40's. A few nice Peter Arno covers and a few Charles Addams cartoons were found inside, as well as some wonderful television, radio, and car ads. These Desoto and Packard ads from 1953 are now framed on a wall. As far as sheet music goes, Melissa and I spent over an hour flipping through tons of old tunes, and at a real bargain, I picked up "Sonny Boy" from The Singing Fool with Al Jolson, "Alabamy Bound" with Mr. Jolson again on the cover, and the Irving Berlin-penned "When My Dreams Come True," from the Marx Bros. film The Cocoanuts. Melissa got herself a Berlin tune, "Tell Me Little Gypsy", from the Ziegfeld Follies of 1920, and "The Shiek of Araby".
City Lights, Chaplin's fifth feature film, began production in March of 1928, just as talking pictures were becoming commonplace, and Chaplin felt immense pressure from his distributors and the movie-going public to release a sound film. Chaplin, ever so world weary, knew that by releasing a talking picture he would alienate his audience in the non-english speaking world. Moreover, some could say that he fell into a camp that believed talking pictures would not survive. He compromised (I use that term loosely - Chaplin was a man who had complete creative control over his art) by offering a beautifully nuanced, interactive score, flowing with the images in the way an ordinary silent film would not, and on top of that, the inclusion of the odd sound effect. In the opening sequence, the Tramp kills two birds with one stone, as he trumps both the establishment, and the Hollywood community with the inclusion of gibberish spoken by the white collar crowd. In a later scene, at the party hosted by the millionaire, he once again mocks the talkies, where a singer, about to entertain the party-goers, is constantly interrupted by Chaplin, who has swallowed a whistle and hiccups incessantly. Chaplin could milk a gag and keep innovating it - the hiccup could have been enough on its own, but no, Chaplin took it a step further by having it call all the neighboring dogs in to the party, ensuring that no song was to be sung and in effect keep this flicker entirely silent.
There are so many wonderful elements to this film, so many wonderful little scenes, and that makes it difficult to pick a favorite. Some Vaudeville staples, like the scenario with the millionaire, played by Harry Myers, where the suicidal businessman only recognizes Charlie as his best friend when he's drunk, yet has his butler escort him out of his mansion when sober. That gag had already been used by Chaplin himself, Laurel & Hardy, and Charley Chase, and it will still be funny one hundred years from now. The boxing scene with former Keystone alumni Hank Mann balances on a tightrope between pure slapstick and ballet. Chaplin had attempted this concept in 1915 while at Essanay, in a short called The Champion. Of all the amazing moments, one cannot deny that what really holds this film together; the Tramp's love for the blind flower girl, played by Virginia Cherrill. The final shot of the film, which Woody Allen would recreate in the finale of Manhattan several decades later, is held there until a slow fade-out drowns the screen with darkness, and the score undertakes its finale. It is one of the highlights, one of the top achievements of Chaplin's illustrious career.
Nothing really dates this film; It's pure emotion. It could take place anywhere and anytime. You're not saddled with the political baggage that would drive his later films like Modern Times, The Great Dictator, and A King in New York, and that is what makes this film such a timeless, innocent classic.
These films will always be around, but I think we take them for granted. We share a "I can see it any time" attitude brought about by the immediate accessibility of media in our day and age. With the state of revival cinema in Toronto being the way it is, we should be thankful we have the Cinematheque, and those who make it possible to see these films. I think the Cinematheque is my new favorite place on earth, and it really reminds us that a place like this is really where movies ought to be shown. Hearing people laugh and cry at a film made by a man, who, at the time of its release, was deemed old-fashioned, yet still has such an effect on theatre-goers after seventy-five years is quite a powerful legacy.
[1]I picked up about a half dozen New Yorker issues from the early 50's and a few from the early 40's. A few nice Peter Arno covers and a few Charles Addams cartoons were found inside, as well as some wonderful television, radio, and car ads. These Desoto and Packard ads from 1953 are now framed on a wall. As far as sheet music goes, Melissa and I spent over an hour flipping through tons of old tunes, and at a real bargain, I picked up "Sonny Boy" from The Singing Fool with Al Jolson, "Alabamy Bound" with Mr. Jolson again on the cover, and the Irving Berlin-penned "When My Dreams Come True," from the Marx Bros. film The Cocoanuts. Melissa got herself a Berlin tune, "Tell Me Little Gypsy", from the Ziegfeld Follies of 1920, and "The Shiek of Araby".
