The Tramp goes from rags to riches and then rags again while falling in love against the twinkling background of the city.
I have a confession to make, I’ve never seen a Charlie Chaplin film before. I know, it’s condemnable! Whether they’ve never made passage through my eyes and into my brain or that I’ve never given myself the opportunity to sit down and experience one is beside the point because tonight that has changed. I use the word experience very carefully because it is indeed one. Since those days, comedy has come a long way or fallen from a huge height, whatever your opinions be about comedy today and the way it’s used, and frankly abused by some, it’s undeniable that some of the most inventive and brilliant comedy can be found within the silent era.
City Lights (1931) has its mooring set in concrete comedic timing, repetition, slapstick bricked up with a wholesome narrative of infatuation and tumultuous friendship. I may not have seen any other Chaplin films, but I’ve certainly read quite a lot about The Great Dictator and Modern Times, where his satirical relationship with modernity, industrialisation and politics are as poignant as they are creasing hilarious. City Lights, on the other hand, I think is more focusses on his characterisation of the tramp more than anything. Of course, you could call the rich dignitaries at the start of the film sounding like talking kazoos, political comedy, but the overall film is concerned more with the clumsy adventures of the tramp.
Whenever I watch a silent film, I put myself in the deliberate mindset of an audience member sitting cosily in a small cinema during the 1920’s as a simulation of the magic these images would’ve casted on my eyes. What’s unsurprising to me, and a testament to the splendour of cinema, is that I was just as rapt by everything on screen as a person watching this film in this foul year of our lord 2021. This sort of early slapstick is my poison, I’m the sort of person who will indiscriminately laugh at everything (within reason) and this is perfect slapstick. This sort of exaggerated physical comedy strapped onto perfect comedic timing is Chaplin’s game and he plays it with such effortless grace. Through way of mime, this barebones comedy is simple yet effective. Take the whistle sequence for instance, which is also my favourite part, this repetitive whistling never gets old, creating more awkwardness and interruption with each subsequent whistle. This early silent comedy is disruptive both in its form and context, subversive and smart.
Verbal and visual comedy, nowadays are inextricably linked, in the hands of a feeble fingered amateur, they’re both dependant on one another, take one away and it falls apart. Not to say there aren’t any clever comedians who use one to elevate the other, or know when to keep a lid on one and let the other do its laughable work, back in time when silent filmmakers couldn’t even imagine synchronous sound in their films, they had to work with what they had. A silent moving image with a musical accompaniment in which they put all of their thinking and innovation. Speaking of the musical arrangement, this film has a superb score which gently carried my emotions through the comedic beats of the film.
When you have no words to say, your body has to do the talking for you and the acting all throughout this film is on point. The subtlest of facial expressions with a slight turn of the face conveys everything from delight to pure disappointment. Juxtaposed with Chaplin’s mimed acting is pure joy.
How do you wrap up talking about a film like this? The only thing that comes to mind is a picture may speak a thousand words but a moving picture with some intertitles along the way says a whole lot more.
Comments