Review of City Lights (1931) by Steven B — 02 Nov 2008

Yeah, yeah--I waited too long to start watching Chaplin...but after Richard Attenborough made that greatest hits reel in 1992, I needed some distance. Besides, for the past two decades, I've nurtured a profound love of Buster Keaton's work; this has provoked many a war with the Chaplin camp, who bristle every time I claim: "I'd love to argue further about this.

..but I've never watched an entire Chaplin film." Fisticuffs. Anyhow, having finally bitten, I can honestly say, "Let the debate continue." Though Chaplin IS an absolute effing marvel, his gags never build to that giddy, madcap, epic tier that Keaton's do; and his direction (slick, full of quick pans, and greased by staccato editing--the residual tutelage of Mack Sennett) isn't as inventive with deep space as Keaton's.

..so far. Keeping in mind there are at least a dozen more flicks to sample, I'll limit my impressions to this: Chaplin's physicality is an awe-inspiring spectacle of grace and fluidity...each "bit" is polished, tightened, then given that dash of spontaneity--the trademark of genius.

Less rough-and-tumble than Keaton (and way less subtle), Chaplin's art deserves all the incredible preservation work Warner's has so obviously invested. The statue dedication sequence is one of those moments in cinema that made me feel like a time traveller.

..like seeing something old as if it were brand new.