City Lights

So, a note before I even get started: my Christmas break is starting to have a very destructive pattern. I work all day or I do stuff for my parents. I get done at 10 or 11. Then my personal time starts. Consider this the middle of my personal time today. It's 1:40 a.m.

Last night during my me-time (read: at least 1 a.m.) I finished watching City Lights. Now, I am no connoisseur of silent films, but this one is definitely the best that I have seen. I've watched a couple of Chaplin's, and this was one of his last. It shows a lot of development toward movies like we see today (as opposed to other silent films). I guess what I noticed the most (as far as technical stuff) was the shots. There were more of them than most silent films, it seemed, and there were more close-ups. The movie relied somewhat on physical comedy, but not to the extent that other Chaplin films do. There was a lot less changing of the film speed than in other silent movies, too, which allowed the film to be both a drama and a comedy because things were in real time.

Chaplin wrote, directed, and acted in this movie during the sound era, but upon seeing the movie it's impossible to not fully appreciate his choice to make City Lights silent. The movie focuses around a girl who has no sight. The actors and audience each have one sense that the other does not, and honestly I think it makes the movie what it is. Not only does it open up opportunities for comedy, but the Tramp's physical actions when the girl can't see him are priceless. He reacts to what she says and we can see exactly how he feels, even though the blind girl can't (and therefore he keeps up the ruse of being a millionaire). This also makes the final scene in this movie, where he sees the girl for the first time since leaving jail (sorry about the plotholes.. I don't want to summarize) and she sees him and doesn't know it's he who paid for her operation... is amazing. Her character's world has become so much more visually based, and she keeps hoping that the tall, rich, good-looking men that walk into the flower shop might be the man she thinks the Tramp is. Then she sees the Tramp, and it is not her sight, but the touch of his hand that makes her realize who he is (the more I think and write about this movie, the more I realize exactly how amazing it is). It's also then that she/the audience realizes that even though sight is such a wonderful thing and is so sought-after, appearances don't matter.

Mr. Chaplin, my hat is off.