CITY LIGHTS

Is there a character more instantly recognizable than the Tramp? Charlie Chaplin's silent era boasted this charming outcast, with his short mustache, unique gait, and scruffy wardrobe. The Tramp never belonged to the society surrounding him. Kids laughed at him; adults ignored, stared at, or mocked him. But movie audiences adored him. The Tramp was, in many ways, the silent every man living in the noisy world. We cheer for him because, even though his reality is not the same as the actual world's, his feelings and motives are ours.

The Tramp belongs in the silent world. Dialogue would have been insulting. The Tramp's power and effectiveness come from physical action. This is his form of communication. This is how he interacts with society. He tips his hat out of gratitude or mockery (depending on circumstance). He walks away in his side-footed gait, always telling us exactly what he is thinking. His pace quickens when he is fearful, slows when he is thoughtful. He smiles shrewdly out of embarrassment or fear, lovingly out of happiness. The Tramp lives in a physical world. Noise is a nuisance--unnecessary.

Charlie Chaplin's genius is epitomized in City Lights, a film in an era where sound was taking over the movie screens. In many ways, this was Chaplin's swan song to the silent film (although Modern Times, in 1936, is primarily silent). Chaplin exits the genre with a grace that is unparalleled. His final scene in his final silent film is pure emotional mastery, one of the greatest and most memorable scenes of any movie ever made. Chaplin made the perfect moment in film.

But Chaplin's mastery extends far beyond this final scene. The film's progression to that perfect conclusion was brilliant in its own right. Chaplin's golden touches are versatile and uncanny. Take the opening sequence of the film, where a statue is presented to the public. As the statue is revealed, the Tramp is seen sleeping on its lap. He gets up and tries to get off the statue, but his pants catch on the sword one of the figures is holding. Soon, the Star-Spangled Banner plays, and he tries to stand at attention, but he has no place to stand with his pants caught in the sword.

In many ways, this is how I'll always remember the Tramp. Always with good intentions, the Tramp somehow never appears this way to everyone around him. Witnesses are appalled at his appearance, repulsed by his poor looks and social status. Yet the Tramp carries on, always with a fair fight left in him, always with the same kind-hearted intentions. Chaplin's direction not only focused on physical comedy and melodramatic poignancy, but it also contained elements of artistic symbolism. This scene is a primary example.

The Tramp meets two companions in City Lights. One is an Eccentric Millionaire (Harry Myers), who (while intoxicated) loves the Tramp and who disregards him otherwise. The other is the Blind Girl (Virginia Cherrill), who sells flowers on city sidewalks, gathering enough change to pay for the ever-increasing rent of her apartment. The Tramp finds the Blind Girl one day and gives her his only money to buy a flower. He keeps the flower as a reminder of her kindness and generosity. One night he finds the Eccentric Millionaire about to drown himself, but the Tramp stops him (in a hilarious physical comedy sequence). The Eccentric Millionaire, in drunken gratitude, brings the Tramp along on his adventures at parties and dances.

After one such night of drinking and partying, the Tramp is offered a car as a gift of gratitude by the Eccentric Millionaire. With some money that the Eccentric Millionaire also gave him, the Tramp finds the Blind Girl and buys all of her flowers that day. He then offers her a ride home. The Blind Girl is grateful but mistakenly believes the Tramp is rich. So when the Tramp discovers that the Blind Girl will soon be evicted from her place, he sets out to collect enough money to pay off her rent.

This leads to several memorable sequences, one involving a boxing match riddled with rhythmic comedy (The Tramp is hopelessly outmatched, so he hides behind the referee in hopes of dodging his opponents punches while getting in a few of his own). Another tremendous sequence was the horse and elephant scene. The Tramp is hired as a "street cleaner", so he cleans the streets after horse carriages pass by. Just when all of the horses seem to have passed, an elephant carriage follows suit. The Tramp gives a resigned look, a perfect Chaplin final touch.

One of my favorite things about City Lights is the music (composed by Chaplin himself). It always has the right tone. The music is wonderfully playful during the humorous skits but beautifully heartfelt during the more dramatic scenes. Chaplin gives a gorgeous theme for the Blind Girl. Each time we see her, the screen lights up and the music soars. The music provides us our sound; it is our way of hearing what the film is saying.

The Tramp eventually collects enough money, not only for the Blind Girl's rent but also for a procedure to cure her blindness (a procedure they discover in the newspaper). The Tramp gives her all of his money, save for one bill that he plans to keep for his own support. But the Blind Girl's gratitude is too much for him, so he gives her the last bill. Chaplin always had a knack for scenes like this. Much like the Tramp's shrug at the passing elephants, his wry smile as he gives her the last bill is a way of extending a scene--making it just slightly more fitting, appropriate, and effective.

Several months pass. The Tramp has been in jail for "stealing" the money he obtained (the result of a sober Eccentric Millionaire and a robbery by two other men), but now he is back on the street. His appearance is even more ragged than before. His walk is slower and more somber. He has reached his most pathetic point. Kids taunt him. He walks with head drooped down a city sidewalk.

And now we've reached the film's final moments, dare I say the best film ending I have ever seen. The Tramp eventually finds the Blind Girl, who now can see due to her operation. She pities the Tramp but treats him well. She offers him a flower and a coin. She offhandedly touches his hand, and she immediately recognizes who the Tramp really is. "You?" He nods his head, and with a shy smile asks, "You can see now?" "Yes. I can see now." And her face, one of pure joy and gratitude, is a sight to behold. The Tramp's is equally grateful. The Tramp had made a big sacrifice, and his payoff was more than worth it. He had found a friend. He found that smile, one of pure gratitude and acceptance. He had found a person who did not care about his appearance; she was just grateful for his kindness.

And Chaplin had found silent film's most poignant moment, a moment in which an image spoke volumes.