Where the Limelight Never Fades

There may not be a man who better exemplifies the heights in which one can rise and then fall than the legendary Charlie Chaplin. The British immigrant perfectly illustrates the ‘American Dream’. He started as a vaudeville performer, then became a silent film star – he had already signed a million dollar contract in the 1910’s. By early 1919, he had formed United Artists with partners Douglas Fairbanks, Mary Pickford and D.W. Griffith – giving him control over the quality of his beloved product.

He created iconic motion pictures that made a fortune and was able to prove that silent films were not dead in 1936 when he made the ‘mostly silent’ Modern Times. He then turned his sights on Hitler, creating the classic satire The Great Dictator. Yet it was at this time that things started to take a turn. Though his final speech in the movie is now seen as one of the film’s greatest scenes, the audience did not like the tone and critiqued the political preachiness. Soon J. Edgar Hoover, Senator Joseph McCarthy and the Hollywood witch hunt that was the House Un-American Activities Committee began to question and investigate the man. They seemed to fear that he was a communist and his collective popularity waned. In 1952, he left the country to promote his new movie Limelight and it was at this time that Attorney General James P. McGranery revoked his re-entry permit until he met with him to discuss his political views and moral behaviour. It has been said that no one in Hollywood history has risen to such heights and then fallen so far. It is in this chaos that Chaplin wrote, directed and acted in one of the great dramedys, Limelight, the movie that I will be reviewing today.

One of Chaplin’s most intimate movies, the story follows Calvero, an aging vaudeville performer, who, as the years have passed, has lost favour with the masses. He has now turned to alcohol as his main past-time as he remembers the days of old, that is, until he saves the life of a young female neighbour Thereza (Claire Bloom), who attempts to commit suicide. Calvero begins to take care of the pained woman, finding solace in trying to nurse her back to health while also motivating and strengthen her psyche with moving, memorable speeches. In turn, Thereza slowly starts to influence the former icon in returning to the stage. In a clever reversal of roles, Thereza, who has mentally given her legs up for dead, suddenly begins to walk when she tries to snap the sorrowful man out of a crying jag after having failed in his return to the theatre.

Now, it is Thereza who begins to care for Calvero, as she has fallen for the much older man’s kindness. She quickly returns to her former career in the ballet, finding him small bit parts in the process. Yet, Calvero feels that Thereza has fallen in love with an idea rather than the man and he feels too old and inadequate to hold back the now vivacious woman. Plus, she has met up with composer Mr. Neville (Chaplin’s son Sydney), who she had first met years before when she was working in a paper store.

Calvero returns to the streets, making it his stage. When Neville and an old theatre friend, Postant (Nigel Bruce), realize Calvero is working the streets, they are worried for him and want to tell Thereza. He rebuffs the idea, exclaiming “there’s something about working the streets I like. It’s the Tramp in me I suppose”. It is a clever line that concludes the serious conversation they are having while also being a reminiscent ode to his legendary silent figure, The Tramp.

Yet, Thereza’s will cannot be stopped. She finds the man and convinces him to return for a one night tribute performance ‘by the great Calvero’, put on by his old friend Postant. Creating several new sketches, including one with his Partner (an extended cameo by Buster Keaton – the only time the silent superstars ever shared the stage together), the clown has the crowd in stitches, forcing the exasperated stage manager to send him out for an encore – much to the chagrin of the other performers who will also be gracing the stage. He gives it his all, wowing the crowd and ending with a stumble into the orchestral drum in front of the stage. In an ending that is truly fitting for a dramedy such as this, the man is gravely injured during the performance, crippling any chance he may have had at re-achieving the fleeting adulation he received for this long awaited, albeit brief moment.

From quite early on in Chaplin’s film making career, it was clear that he was not interested in simply making comedies. His films have soul, gravitas, poignancy and grace; this can be seen as far back as silent films such as The Kid (1921) and City Lights (1931). This film is very much the opposing book end to those much earlier motion pictures, as this movie also brings forth the doubt, longstanding pain, missed opportunities and sorrow that comes along with old age (along with those other things listed above). As much as the rousing, motivational speeches enlighten and lift our spirits (and they do), there is also a shadow of darkness that creeps into the dialogue and performances. It is reminiscent of Nina Sayers’ journey for perfection in Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan and the sorrow that comes with a waning career found at the heart of the romantic dramedy The Artist (both are clear homages to this iconic film).

Chaplin, as always, is the master at creating a beautiful, poignant film. His writing is superlative. There are countless quotable lines, including motivators such as: “think of the power that’s in the universe! And that’s the same power within you. If you’d only have courage and the will to use it” or “There’s greatness in everyone”. His movement, even at the age of 63, is mesmerizing – especially during his final performance. Then there is his music, which is breathtaking. It bizarrely earned him an Academy Award in 1973, along with fellow composers Ray Rasch and Larry Russell, as the film was not released in Los Angeles until 1972. Then, there are the superb performances by Claire Bloom, Nigel Bruce, Buster Keaton and Sydney Chaplin – each adding depth of character to the nuanced story.

It is perhaps fitting that in Limelight Chaplin says “time is the best author. It always writes the perfect ending”, as twenty years later, the climate in the United States had changed and The Tramp was allowed to return, receiving an honorary Oscar ‘for the incalculable effect he had in making motion pictures the art form for this century’; righting an egregious wrong and placing the figure back on the right side of history – proving that time can heal all wounds.