By Marilyn Ferdinand
Among the many genius works of renaissance man Charlie Chaplin, City Lights stands as a singular achievement. It is not that other Chaplin films aren’t as funny, and the story for City Lights is certainly not as ambitious as, say, Modern Times (1936) or The Great Dictator (1940). If it were made today, we’d call it, perhaps dismissively, a romcom, a slapstick story of a poor man who loves a blind girl and uses his dubious encounters with the more prosperous outside world to help her.
Some may say that City Lights gets its reputation as Chaplin’s greatest film because of its miraculous last scene. No less a writer and film critic than James Agee had this to say about that famous scene:
“At the end of City Lights the blind girl who has regained her sight, thanks to the Tramp, sees him for the first time. She has imagined and anticipated him as princely, to say the least; and it has never seriously occurred to him that he is inadequate. She recognizes who he must be by his shy, confident, shining joy as he comes silently toward her. And he recognizes himself, for the first time, through the terrible changes in her face. The camera just exchanges a few quiet close-ups of the emotions which shift and intensify in each face. It is enough to shrivel the heart to see, and it is the greatest piece of acting and the highest moment in movies.”
As I watched that ending for the umpteenth time, and the hubby saw it for the very first time, our eyes moistened and our hearts agreed—this scene is indeed the finest ever committed to film. He and I, however, didn’t agree about what happened in the scene, and indeed, I don’t agree with Agee about The Tramp suddenly seeming inadequate to himself when The Girl’s realization of who he really is is reflected back to him. But more on that later.
The film Chaplin made defied the demand for sound that was all the rage following the appearance of Al Jolson in The Jazz Singer in 1929. Wary of having his Everyman speak, Chaplin nonetheless wrote a score that used sound to put across some very funny gags indeed, with both economy and wit.
The opening scene brilliantly sets up the great divide between the Establishment and The Tramp. Several rich poobahs stand on a dais in a square to unveil a statue they have donated to the city called “Peace and Prosperity.” Chaplin substitutes kazoos for voices, one pitched low for the men and another pitched high for the lady set to do the unveiling. No title cards are needed to understand the ceremonial claptrap that reaches its climax when the draping falls to reveal The Tramp sleeping on the lap of the central figure. Chaplin milks the uproar over the innocent desecration of this solemn moment by having The Tramp contorting with the grace of a born comic mime to free himself from the sword that has skewered his holey trousers; thinking further, one wonders what a figure with a drawn sword is doing in a statue called “Peace and Prosperity.”
From this antic opening, The Tramp moves through the crowded, uncaring streets to his fateful encounter with The Girl (newcomer Virginia Cherrill, discovered by Chaplin at a boxing match). In one of the many small comic moments that fill the film to overflowing, The Tramp negotiates the gridlocked traffic by climbing in one side of a car and emerging onto the sidewalk through the other side. When he closes the door, The Girl holds out a flower she entreats him to buy. Her entreaty startles The Tramp, who wonders why anyone would think he had the need for or the price of a flower for his ragged lapel. With great subtlety, Chaplin investigates this odd turn of events by having his Tramp take the flower and with slight, gentle movements, pass it in front of The Girl. When her eyes don’t register his movements, his heart instantly goes out to her, and he gives her a coin. When the owner of the car at the curb returns, closes the door, and drives away, The Girl calling out that he did not take his change, The Tramp understands the misunderstanding. From that point on, he plays the swell whenever he visits her and finds himself in both comic and dire circumstances as he tries to be her benefactor.
City Lights is chock full of comic set-pieces that showcase Chaplin’s nimble, cartoonlike movements, particularly when The Tramp comes into the orbit of The Millionaire (Harry Myers) who treats him like a brother when he is in his cups, but rejects him without recognition when he is sober. In perhaps my favorite comic bit of the film, The Tramp encounters The Millionaire on a riverfront as he slips a rope around his neck and prepares to lift the rock tied to the other end and toss it into the river. The Tramp runs to his rescue, only to have the rock dropped on his toe and the noose accidentally slipped over his head, dragging him into the drink. Naturally, in trying to rescue each other, both men end up pulling each other in again and again. The gag ends with the arrival of a policeman, but our fear for The Tramp is upended when The Millionaire declares him friend and takes him home.
The Tramp is scorned or asea when facing the work-a-day world. The Millionaire’s Butler (Al Ernest Garcia) does everything he can to get rid of The Tramp, while two boys on a street corner taunt him and pelt him with peas through a pea shooter. He tries to earn money to keep The Girl and her Grandmother (Florence Lee) from being evicted by shoveling manure from the streets. The Tramp watches a man lead a large team of mules down the street and heads in the opposite direction, only to be greeted by the completely unexpected sight of an elephant lumbering past him. It is with these visual surprises that Chaplin startles the audience and adds a certain whimsical warmth to moments of potential drama or romanticism. This is particularly true at the end of the first meeting of The Tramp and The Girl, when he sits quietly watching her as she gets up to freshen her flowers’ water in a nearby fountain. She fills a pot under his loving gaze, swirls the water around, and then flings it out, drenching her unseen admirer. He shakes himself and slinks off as the scene fades on the innocent Girl refilling the pot.
One of the most beautifully choreographed and realized scenes is The Tramp’s boxing match. After his arrangement to take a dive and split the $50 purse with his opponent falls through, The Tramp must do his best not to get pummeled by a fighter (Hank Mann) whose mere touch has sent men into a concussive swoon. The ingratiating smiles and handshakes he offers everyone from his opponent to his seconds are followed by a perfectly timed stutter step that keeps The Referee (Eddie Baker) between The Tramp and his foe. The Tramp manages a punch every fourth step and grabs the angry boxer in a desperate embrace to avoid a return blow. Further gags, again with The Tramp tangled in everything from the ropes to the bell marking the rounds, make for controlled anarchy and a rather suspenseful match. We almost can’t believe it when The Tramp loses, so close did Chaplin make the outcome, but winning is foreign territory to this outsider. Although Chaplin was by this time the most famous man in the world, one who remains an iconic influence today, he was emotionally bound in his work to his own beginnings as a poor boy who spent a good deal of his youth in a workhouse.
And then there is the final scene. Agee described the scene, and I would only draw your attention to something I learned from Roger Ebert. Notice what happens to the flower The Tramp takes from The Girl. In his close-ups, he holds it close to his face and simultaneously chews shyly on his finger while staring uninhibitedly at The Girl. In the reverse shot of The Girl, we see The Tramp’s hand lower, with the flower about chest high. So emotionally focused are Chaplin and Cherrill that this detail only registers after repeat viewings. I was quite reminded of a reader’s theatre performance of Bernard Shaw’s Don Juan in Hell by Paul Henreid, Edward Mulhare, Ricardo Montalban, and Agnes Moorehead in which my focus was so pulled by Mulhare that I never saw Henreid light a cigar. It’s magic in plain sight.
City Lights is, as its name suggests, lit from within because of the emotional depth of the connection between The Tramp and The Girl. The Tramp is a child with an unselfish love that seeks nothing in return, not even the girl’s good opinion of him. Once The Girl touches and recognizes the hands she held so often, no terrible regard crosses her face; rather, she seems softly astonished and then sees that love, not wealth, has bought her sight. They outshine the brassy bulbs and neon of the metropolis in which they are barely bit players and prove themselves to be, like the painfully divided man and woman in F. W. Murnau’s masterwork Sunrise: A Tale of Two Humans (1927), the real city lights.
Marilyn, a tremendous post that shows why this film is so special, and so special within the body of Chaplin’s work, where my admiration for it is exceeded only by my admiration for “The Gold Rush” (which was my #1 in the countdown ballot). For me it is Chaplin’s gentlest film–everything about it is gentle, the satire, the comedy, the love story, the sentiment–and I think that may be one reason it has such a strong emotional effect on so many people. This sustained gentleness makes it for me the equivalent within Chaplin’s filmography of “The General” in Keaton’s. Both films are imbued with an ingenuous sweetness that irresistibly pulls us into the film’s emotional landscape but never seems cloying. I love the running gag of the on-again, off-again friendship between the Tramp and the Rich Man.
About the ending. I like the way Chaplin leaves it up to us to decide where the friendship/romance between the Tramp and the Girl is headed after the film ends. It’s clear that she has had a shock, and so has the Tramp. (Your description of this scene and the play of emotions on their faces was first-rate–highly evocative of the scene, as were descriptions of other passages in the film.) What is uncertain is how each will react to their shock insight. I see this as an open ending that lets each viewer decide where the film goes from here, and to me that is part of the film’s enduring appeal.
Just a beautiful assessment of a cinematic miracle. The mix of laughs and tears in CITY LIGHTS will live forever, because it taps directly into these intimately related emotional shows. In fact, if you look at the Tramp as representing the laugh, and The Girl as representing the tear, then you can even more palpably gather the interplay between the two in this film. It always astonishes me how fresh the film feels, every time I revisit it again. Thank you for reminding me to enjoy its wonders now and always. I need a good laugh, and a healthy cry, right about now.
As I watched that ending for the umpteenth time, and the hubby saw it for the very first time, our eyes moistened and our hearts agreed—this scene is indeed the finest ever committed to film.
Known as “a comedy romance in pantomine” the film is actually a bittersweet tragedy, and Chaplin’s genius knew it would only work the way it if it stayed a silent at a time when talkies had taken control of Hollywood for several years. It’s Chaplin’s greatest masterpiece, and it’s final scene with the Tramp smiling, and holding a flower near his mouth is one of the truly great moments in the entire history of the cinema, and one that brings tears as decisively as any film in any genre, from any country. Hence, Marilyn, I can hardly agree with you (and Sean) more, and I applaud your use of the Agee quote, one I am familiar with. I’ve watched that scene more often than any in history, and today I learned ven more, ‘enlightened’ if you will by your brilliant analysis of the true meaning of that final iconic scene. It also features a rapurous operatic score that explodes in the end with the aural underpinnings that lifts this film into an emotional epiphany. Many of the earlier sequences at a park dedication, in a boxing ring, the scenes with the drunken millionaire who only knows him when he’s drunk, and a sequence when the Tramp swallows a whistle are as funny as anything Chaplin ever wrote, but it’s the humanism that elevates this. The film is told in the spare style of the classics, and is the result of what was purportedly Chaplin’s most painstaking work ever. Your superlative description of the boxing scene, the Tramp’s hilariously alternating involvement with Harry Myers, and the manner you bring this towering review full circle has done this, my favorite screen comedy, full justice. Your fabulous approach in examining the film, has brought yet another original focus to a film, that obviously has still not been exhausted in discussing. And that will be the lasting legacy of this great piece of one of the cinema’s most adored films.
Marilyn – As I would expect from you, a lovely post – both illuminating and personal. The Agee quote is familiar to me, but I like the way you challenge it and reinterpret the scene. Now I need to watch it again to look for that nuance you found. This got my #1 vote for its seamless blend of ingenious comedy, romanticism and humanity. You captured it beautifully.
Hi everyone, and thanks for your kind words. This film is so rich in every aspect, from a score that does what a score should do better than almost any I’ve heard to the gags the come cascading like thundering rapids. But is it, as R.D. says, such a standout for its gentleness. I don’t wonder at what happens after the final fade. It’s clear that The Tramp is far too innocent at heart – despite an earlier gag of him pretending to look at a nude statue with clinical regard – to be a lover for the girl. His heart is unselfish. Of course, she is so moved by the realization of what he did for her that she will return the favor and look after him to the end of their days, a treasured friend. He’ll never really fit in – note the way he drives The Millionaire’s car to pick a cigar butt off the street – but he’ll find dignity in her love.
BTW, I don’t wish to brag, but I was privileged to see this film projected at Orchestra Hall with the CSO playing Chaplin’s score live, with all the great sound effects. I wish everyone could have that glorious experience.
Clever, beautifully-written review. Building it all around that eternally famous finale, made the expansion a natural progression. Despite the boxing scene and the business with the drunk and the monument, this film is dominated by pathos. I believe it’s Chaplin’s greatest film of all.
I must applaud Ms. Ferdinand for this extraordinary write-up. This is my favorite Chaplin film, and the one I’d bring to a desert island. What some seem to forget is that it’s still as funny as most of his films, a fact you cover in the boxing scene segment. The human elements are what make the comedy so profound. When the film is thought of the final scene is always first up.
Ironic that Chaplin’s famous act of defiance is a critique of sight rather than sound. If you think about it, how is the Tramp putting over his act with the blind girl? Apart from simply giving gifts, it has to be to some extent with the voice we never hear. Is it possible that the film might only have been enhanced with dialogue? Just asking. Also, Marilyn’s reminder of the parallel storyline had me wondering: what does the drunken Millionaire think his friend is? Does it register with his sozzled brain that this is a tramp, or is it possible that he takes the Tramp for his peer? Are we to assume that the Girl, blind, and the Millionaire, drunk, perceive the Tramp’s true (or at least best) self in a way that the deceptive clarity of sight/sobriety denies them? While all we can do is watch? No wonder the ending remains one of cinema’s great enigmas. Marilyn sums it up as well as anyone I’ve read.
So we have just about as stark an aesthetic divide between No. 2 and No. 1 as can be imagined, and I suppose that’s as it should be.
Excellent review! Your revelations proved that discussion on this film is inexhaustible. The film speaks a universal language as well as any other during the silent era. The muted smile of the Tramp at the end is almost pensive, but it speaks a thousand words.
Marilyn I enjoyed reading your prose and analysis of this classic, classic film. It would be one of the 1-2 silent films that I would show to someone to introduce them to silent film. It is deeply iconic…and has that brilliantly emotive ending. I sometimes feel the ending is almost too powerful for its own good. You reminded me of all those other great scenes….but for some reason I couldn’t remember anything but that ending until I read your review. It has THAT much impact. I don’t suppose I could distill cinema to one greatest moment, but I wouldn’t fault anyone with picking that moment. I ranked 2 Chaplins higher than this, but certainly understand how many people voted it near the top.
Interesting to note….fewer people voted for this one than the last 2 spots…..can’t figure out how 7 people left this off their ballot….but that is the reason why it’s not number 1 I would guess.
Aye Jon, those omissions are what prevented this from taking the top spot. But #2 is quite a showing of course.
Yeah for sure. It is ahead of the last 2 because it had more top 10 votes than The General and Duck Soup. Quite impressive.
I’m shocked to see that neither this or The General at number one, though I am happy to see this ahead of The General (No offense to Buster Keaton, I just prefer Chaplin). A great film and easily the great director’s magnum opus, there are only a few films from the 30s I enjoy more. Great essay!
You think that’s shocking, Anu?????
Wait till you see what’s coming in at No. 1!!!!!!!
Very nice essay that, in the end, raised a very interesting question that I had never pondered before. Seeing this film a million times, I had never once thought where The Tramp and The Flower Girl would go as a result of his dedication and kindness.
Thinking about this now, Marilyn raises some very interesting observations on many of the moments and sequences in the film and, because of this new aspect, much of it falls into place in a more enriching and, now, obvious way. Now, I DON’T think The Tramp has much of a future, romantically, with The Flower Girl, but I do agree that the sustained shot at the end, arguably the greatest ever filmed (although, the reveal of the Star-child at the close of 2001, the discovery of the Statue of Liberty at the fade-out mark of PLANET OF THE APES, the burning of the sled that finishes off CITIZEN KANE and the autumn leaves washing over Micheal to end THE GODFATHER PART 2 would be close), brings us all to an ambiguous, but almost knowing, sensory moment that, quite frankly, is far more reaching and daring than anything Chaplin EVER concocted for one of his timeless films.
With this new-found perspective, for me anyway, I can, once again, go back to CITY LIGHTS and marvel at yet another aspect of this film that I took for granted and see it in a whole new light. I can go back to CITY LIGHTS and look for things in what I had deemed familiar from many viewings and now understand why certain things were done, the parallels that are meticulously layered into the narrative fabric of this film, and marvel at the nuances in the performances and sweeps in Chaplins rousing, often touching, and always romantic score.
There has been many years of debate on who was the better silent-screen clown and film-maker. Always, the authorities at large scream CHAPLIN or KEATON. This is a war that has raged ever since Keatons work was brought back for another look via revival showings in the 60′s and the 70′s here in the States. Often, I have been inclined to render a stalmate, regard them as equal geniuses of the form and happy just to have all this work to view, pleasurably, for the rest of my life. But, now that this added aspect to CITY LIGHTS has been plopped into my lap I know that my affections for the two is now slowly lop-siding. Personally, I have always preferred Chaplin, his stuff rings with a kind of humanity and emotion very few, at the time, could effortlessly bring to screeen. I have been labeled a sentimentalist for this and called “wishy-washy” because I, presumably, allow feeling to blind me from making an accurate assessment of the art.
However, understanding this new aspect and, now, knowing, that it was intentionally devised by Chaplin only makes me admire the artist that WAS The Little Tramp even more. His keen sense to know, through the building of narrative and the detail in creating that narrative, exactly when to flood the viewers heart with rending emotion through perfectly timed visuals makes me realize that CITY LIGHTS wasn’t just brilliant, but light years beyond anything he was doing before or since. YES, YES, YES, I agree that films like MODERN TIMES and THE GOLD RUSH are pure classics of the form and a perfect display for Chaplins versatility as a film-maker, imaginer and performer, but none of those films are as all enveloping and thought provoking as what the final shot of CITY LIGHTS hints at. Everything that comes before that sustained shot, such a simple moment, was a building block leading you there and to questions and hopes for and about those people on the screen you come to love and care for so deeply.
Had I reviewed this film, I probably would have gone on for pages and pages talking about this that and the other thing. I’d have asked you to look for something in scene one and then something in scene ten and wax poetic over a particular flourish in the music during a particular sequence. Good, but pretty standard fare. What Marilyn has done, in the simplicity of only a few paragraphs (I’d have written a small book), was grab the viewer for a moment and ask them to really, REALLY think about something that seems so minute but is far deeper and, cartainly, more complex than we had originally thought.
Thinking about all this now, after dozens of viewings, makes me excited to see CITY LIGHTS yet again, absolutely sing the praises of this film as Chaplins bonafide masterpiece (a film he spent over a year making, laboring tirelessly to make it perfect) and tell Mr. Keaton that he was edged out by a hair because he doesn’t have one in his canon that makes you think and ponder like CITY LIGHTS does.
CITY LIGHTS has always been on my shortlist as one of my PERSONAL favorite films of all time. Now, I can, inequivically, feel justified in my reasonings for seeing it as one of the 10 greatest films the art of film-making has ever seen.
Thank you so much for this, Marilyn.
Dennis – Thanks for your effusive comment. I always strive to see something a little different in films, without forcing an interpretation. I don’t think we need to see beyond the final fade. There is something about the purity of The Tramp’s selfless act that instructs us about how even the poorest among us can be infinitely rich by giving with love. It’s a bit of an It’s a Wonderful Life kind of ending, but if you choose to look beyond the fade, good will is all that I see.
I have to say, Marilyn, now that you have posed this to me….
I totally agree.
Dennis….by this newfound aspect you are referring to……is it the ambiguity of the ending as far as romance goes….or the interesting piece of discontinuity of the placement of the flower? I’m confused.
I’m speaking of, JON, the ambiguity of the finale. It had never occured to me that more than a single interpretation could be had. I had always seen the finale as this one moment in time where The Tramp finally got what he wanted. However, now that it’s been posed to me by Marilyn that an alternate result could come from the ending, something that can be seen as different for every one of a thousand viewers and, precisely, that Chaplin designs the moment that way, DELIBERATELY, has me respecting and falling more in awe with the creative genius that he was. In just about every aspect of Chaplins filmmaking, he is the driving force, the be all and end all with the final say in the script and story, cinematography, music, casting and editing and, now, that I apply, even further, his reaching grasp on this final moment as one that can be all things for so many, the resonance of his genius and this film become even more impressive.
I’m sorry, I love the work of Keaton, think he’s absolutely brilliant, but he didn’t have the forsight and the belief of heart that Chaplin so effortlessly pontificates. Thinking about this for a few hours now has me completely seeing favor in Chaplin as the greatest silent comedy film-maker of them all and CITY LIGHTS as his very best film. Because of this deliberate ambiguity, and that Chaplin wants you to take from it whatever you want to, makes the work even more wonderous and sublime.
Easily, one of the ten greatest film-makers in the history of the medium.
I cannot believe, even after all this time and those viewings, that I didn’t see it. I’m ashamed of myself in that I always thought I was one of an elitist group that understood everything about him.
You learn something new every day.
Thanks I was a bit lost. I always saw it as sort of ambiguous but with a romantic and optimistic tinge. I still see it that way. It is a very HUMAN moment.
An incredible essay Marilyn, especially regarding that heart breaking final scene. I will have to revisit the film because of your wonderful writing. As much as I like this film, I placed it below Modern Times, The Gold Rush & The Circus but that is not meant to take anything away from this film which is memorable and a crucial cinematic work. My attachments to Chaplin’s films are more subjective than I like to admit
Very impressed to see such high scores. But I wouldn’t expect any less from the poll’s #2 film.
Marilyn, a great piece – I must watch the film again soon after reading this and take in that wonderful/heartbreaking final scene all over again. This is probably my favourite Chaplin film, although I think The Circus has the most laughs packed in.
For sure, Marilyn, your evocative write-up really touches my heart in the way the film does. Of course, I imagine that City Lights shot to #2 largely because of that final, transformative scene. I’d like to point out, though — and I suspect you’d agree — that the scene wouldn’t have worked as well without the buildup throughout the film of the relationship of the tramp and the girl.
As to the interpretation of the scene — and what follows — my belief is that the scene is “the thing.” Films end where they end for a reason, and speculation is just that – speculation. The important things are the connection and the realization to both characters that speaks to the larger theme of the film, which speaks to the relative value of love to the that of the material realm.
The reason I placed Chaplin’s other masterpiece, The Gold Rush, higher on my ballot is really due to my tip-of-the-hat to Chaplin’s own sentiments regarding The Gold Rush as that for which he wished to be remembered.
An utterly brilliant and moving comment!
Thanks so much, everyone, for your kind remarks and insightful comments on Chaplin, Keaton, the film and everything in between. I used to like Keaton more than Chaplin, but he tends to do the same thing in all of his wonderful films, whereas I don’t think I can pick a favorite Chaplin film because he answers so many moods in me in so many different ways. I have a real fondness for Monsieur Verdoux, which contrasts City Lights in the similarity of theme but with a terrible darkness that clouded more of his films as the insanity of which humanity is capable was revealed in all its ugliness. He was the ultimate believer in love, as I am, as the salvation of us all as individuals. I don’t think either of us kids ourselves that universal love is really possible. He puts across that message as the weave to the warp of his teeming, broad humor, and does it to unforgettable effect here with City Lights.