Imperfect Lights

City Lights (1931) is one of those movies with a grand, impenetrable reputation built over many decades, like a Citizen Kane (1941) or a Grand Illusion (1937). It lives up to that reputation, for the most part. There are those who consider this to be a perfect movie, however, and I simply can't go that far. Some will say, "There is no such thing as a perfect movie," but I disagree. I have favorite films that I would consider perfect or extremely close to it; obviously they may not be the same films that others consider to be perfect.

For the uninitiated, this silent film directed, written, and scored by the great Charlie Chaplin, was made several years into the talkie era. Chaplin was still the most famous person on the planet, but he believed his iconic character, the Little Tramp, was unfit for sound. Audiences around the world had been made to laugh and cry by the Little Tramp for over a decade, and Chaplin refused to alienate fans of such a universal character. The Tramp spoke through actions, not words. He was understood just as well in France as he was in Japan. Chaplin did not want to choose a language, an accent, or anything else for the Tramp that might push away adoring fans. So it was decided that the Tramp would stay silent in a world obsessed with talkies.

In City Lights, the Tramp (Chaplin) falls for a blind flower girl (Virginia Cherrill). When he buys a flower, she hears the sound of a fancy car driving off and mistakes him for a wealthy man. That evening, the Tramp happens upon a drunk, genuinely rich man (Harry Myers), who he saves from committing suicide. After partying all night with his new friend, the Tramp borrows money and the millionaire's Rolls-Royce to impress the girl he loves. He soon discovers how bleak her situation is; living with her mother in a tiny apartment, about to be evicted. When he finds out about an operation that can cure blindness, he believes he can solve all the girl's problems. The millionaire is a long shot, as he only remembers the Tramp when plastered. So the Tramp sets out to find a job.

As a Chaplin fan since the mid-nineties, I've seen his work for Keystone, Essanay, Mutual, First National, etc., and my first viewing of City Lights came in 1996. I've revisited the film many times over the years. Often I will see a film and think it is above average, perhaps even quite good, but not a masterpiece. Then I will watch it again, successfully gaining a deeper appreciation. This happened to me with Tati's Playtime (1967), Laughton's Night of the Hunter (1955), Malick's Days of Heaven (1978), and so forth. I adore each of those films today, but after a single viewing I considered them to be quite overrated.

I never considered City Lights to be overrated because I loved it the very first time I saw it. Not to the point of labeling it perfect, though. With each successive viewing it never managed to gain that distinction from me. So, what do I think works so extremely well in City Lights, and what does not?

Frankly, the vast majority of this movie is so very superb. The opening sequence with the statue and the gibberish talking politicians. The drunken dinner, complete with near-fights and vigorous dancing. The absurd, but quite hilarious (and marvellously choreographed) boxing sequence. Who could forget Myers' suicidal millionaire? He gives half of the film a darker edge, which I enjoyed, for the most part. Of course, the Tramp's relationship with the blind girl is simply beautiful throughout. The ending, which Pulitzer Prize-winning author James Agee called "the greatest piece of acting and the highest moment in movies", is absolute perfection.

I guess what keeps City Lights from attaining perfection beyond that unimprovable ending, to my eyes, is the episodic feel, one too many coincidences, and some gags that fall a bit flat. These are ultimately minor issues, but I can't ignore them completely.

The swallowing the whistle gag didn't work for me initially, and has never worked for me in sixteen years. I find it a bit too ridiculous to laugh at. The man blowing soap bubbles at the Tramp after believing the soap to be a hunk of cheese was not particularly amusing. The way the Tramp always happens to run into the millionaire, in public, when the latter man is completely inebriated. The way the burglars happen to be in the millionaire's house right when the millionaire gives the Tramp one thousand dollars and conveniently needs a bump on the head to forget his own generosity. Even the way the millionaire remembers and forgets the Tramp based on the level of his blood-alcohol seems a bit much, but I suppose I can accept that.

Being a bit pickier now (too picky, perhaps), I personally dislike when characters get instantly drunk in movies after one or two sips of alcohol. It renders what follows as less believable, somehow, even in a comedy. This same complaint applies to Buster Keaton's Three Ages (1923), for example. In City Lights, the Tramp has two sips and he's falling all over the place in under a minute.

In my humble opinion, a "perfect" movie should feel, to the viewer, like a consistent whole with no missteps along the way. City Lights is so tremendous overall that even the few elements I consider to be missteps can't bring it down much from the high level it usually maintains. For some, I can easily see City Lights being a perfect movie. I wish I felt the same way, and wrote this simply to illustrate for myself and whoever happens to read it, why I don't quite feel the same level of enthusiasm. I adore the movie overall, just not every one of its eighty-seven minutes.