“MAYBE IT’S THE TRAMP IN ME”

By Raymond Benson

Charles Chaplin’s Limelight was not quite the swan-song for the genius filmmaker (he would make two more pictures in his lifetime); but of these final three movies, Limelight is the one that feels like the true farewell. It is more of a drama than a comedy, and it is perhaps Chaplin’s most personal, introspective movie. The fact that it is flawed and warrants criticism shouldn’t matter—it’s worth viewing for a number of reasons.

For my money, the director/actor/screenwriter/composer made a much funnier film, A King in New York (1957), after Limelight, but King is not as accomplished or well-known. Chaplin’s disastrous final picture, A Countess from Hong Kong (1967, starring Sophia Loren and Marlon Brando, with Chaplin appearing only in a cameo) is best forgotten. Thus, most film historians focus on Limelight as being the conclusive cinematic statement by the master.

Limelight presents a story that begins in London in 1914, when the music hall, where Chaplin got his start in show business, was the equivalent of America’s vaudeville. Chaplin’s own father had also performed in the music hall circuit, but alcohol eventually derailed the man’s career. Chaplin taps into this autobiographical history by creating the character of “Calvero” a once-popular clown, but now an alcoholic has-been. To be sure, though, there are within Calvero elements of the familiar silent icon Chaplin once portrayed (at one point Calvero delivers a potent line of ironic dialogue, “Perhaps it’s the tramp in me!”). Enter Terry, a young ballerina (played by a nineteen-year-old Claire Bloom in her film debut), whom Calvero saves from a suicide attempt. The couple forge an awkward friendship that develops into romance (on her part, not his—although Calvero’s attraction to her is painfully obvious), but of course throughout the course of the picture they separate, get back together, and, at the end, unwittingly and fatefully separate for good. The movie is an apparent discourse on how the elderly must retreat from the limelight and allow the young to step forward and carry on.

As Calvero, Chaplin is very good, if more than a little melodramatic in the non-comic scenes (of which there are many). Bloom is fine, if more than a little melodramatic in nearly every scene (a stand-in ballerina, Melissa Hayden, performs Terry’s dances). The supporting cast includes old pros like Nigel Bruce and Norman Lloyd, but also Chaplin’s son, Sydney Earl Chaplin, who delivers perhaps the most realistic and honest performance in the picture—it’s a shame that he made only a few more films before deciding that acting was not for him. Chaplin’s half-brother, Wheeler Dryden, plays a dual role, and, making the movie a full family affair, six-year-old Geraldine Chaplin has a bit part along with two of her younger siblings.

Keaton and Chaplin teamed on screen for their first and only time.

The highlight, though, and pretty much the biggest reason to take a look at Limelight, is the climactic sketch featuring Chaplin and Buster Keaton, the only time the comic masters ever appeared on screen together. Their sequence is classic.

That said, Limelight unfortunately comes off as being overly sentimental. Chaplin palpably tugs too hard at the audience’s heartstrings. The lush musical score, while beautiful, doesn’t help tone down the ultimately maudlin proceedings. The film is much too lengthy as well, clocking in at 137 minutes, making it Chaplin’s longest picture—and it feels interminable. Finally, the romance between the very young Terry and the very old Calvero is barely believable, but perhaps in 1914 such a May-December relationship might not have been so icky.

It must be noted that at the time the picture was made, Chaplin was practically Public Enemy Number One in America. He was a victim of the rabid and irrational Red Scare that was going on in the country; the Hollywood blacklist was a result of this insane paranoia, and Chaplin—while too powerful to blacklist—was certainly shunned for his “socialist” political views (hmm, sound familiar?). Chaplin premiered Limelight in London in 1952, so the government took that opportunity to deny the artist re-entry into the U.S. A fine way to treat someone who was arguably the cinema’s greatest innovator and pioneer! Chaplin, heartbroken and bitter, took up residence with his family in Switzerland, and didn’t return to America until 1972, when the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences decided to forgive and forget and award him with a Lifetime Achievement Oscar. And, since Limelight never got a proper release in the states in ’52, it was re-released in ’72 and was thus eligible for Oscars. Limelight won for Original Score; ironically, the only competitive Oscar that Chaplin ever won was for music. At least the audience at the ceremony made him feel welcome—Chaplin received the longest standing ovation ever at the Oscars.

The new 4K digital restoration looks gorgeous, of course, and Criterion’s treatment of the title is top-notch. Extras include a few that are ported over from the 2002 MK2 release—Chaplin Today: Limelight (a documentary on the film); archival recordings of Chaplin reading two excerpts from his own novella, Footlights; a deleted scene and two trailers; and the uncompleted short, The Professor (1919). New extras include Chaplin’s Limelight—Its Evolution and Intimacy (a new video essay by Chaplin biographer David Robinson); new enlightening interviews with Claire Bloom and Norman Lloyd (who is 100-years-old and sharp as a tack!); and a restored short, A Night at the Show (1915). The thick booklet contains an essay by critic Peter von Bagh, excerpts from an on-set piece by journalist Henry Gris, and lots of photos of ephemera.

When all is said and done, despite its shortcomings, this new release of Limelight does have much to offer. And suffice it to say that if you’re a Chaplin fan, then it’s essential.

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