There are some artists that are not only instantly recognizable by their last name, but their association with work immediately indicates that it will be of exceptional and undeniable quality, regardless of what the project entailed. Few individuals are more iconic, both visually and in terms of artistic impact, than Charlie Chaplin – with the exception of perhaps Marilyn Monroe, he’s likely the most recognizable figure in Hollywood history, with his distinctive look infilitrating the global culture in a way we have rarely seen from any performer, which is why his resounding success in all corners of the entertainment industry is so incredible, and the primary reason why audiences are still extremely aware of his work, despite it being nearly half a century since his passing, and even longer since his peak as an artist. His creation of The Little Tramp, the nameless, adorable vagabond that traipses through life by narrowly avoiding disaster and somehow always making it out of even the most precarious situations was the foundation for dozens of short films and features and immediately established Chaplin as not only a great talent but a singular artistic voice whose perspective and talents have stood the test of time better than many of his contemporaries. Choosing his signature work is difficult since he made several films that have been cited as being amongst the greatest of all time – but ultimately, it’s clear that even those who don’t choose it as their personal favourite still gravitate towards City Lights as being arguably his most important achievement, since it is arguably the apex of everything that Chaplin represented as both an actor and a director, his effortless ability to move through the world, both physically and emotionally, is reflected in every frame of this film. Deeply moving and unquestionably powerful in ways that we may not expect, City Lights is an incredible achievement.

There are far too many canonical classics that carry the burden of being seen as among the greatest films ever made, and if there is one common quality amongst audiences, it is the frequency at which we tend to dare these supposedly iconic films to impress us in the same way as they moved viewers at the time of their release. Unfortunately, even the greatest films tend to age in one way or another, some better than others. City Lights does not carry such a weight, since despite being produced at the tail-end of the silent era (although sound films were already en vogue at the time, Chaplin made the conscious choice to work in silent cinema for a few more years), there is a timeless quality to it that makes it extraordinarily endearing and profoundly deep in ways that we may find quite surprising. Unlike some of his peers (not to disparage the likes of Buster Keaton or Harold Lloyd, who were just as inventive and unique, as were many other silent era comedians that have not withstood the test of time quite as well), Chaplin remains a conscious part of the culture, and a lot of this has to do with his tendency towards focusing on universal themes in his work, refusing to be too caught up in narratives that situate us in a specific moment in the past, which may have made such a film engaging at the time but would have restricted it to that era, which is not always a good method for comedy. Instead, he crafts City Lights as a beautiful series of moments in the lives of ordinary people. We follow our beloved tramp as he tries to make a life for himself, but constantly finds himself at odds with both society and the elements, which seem to be working in tandem to prevent him from succeeding – and only amid this chaos do we discover exactly what makes him such a poignant character, after a chance encounter with a blind flower girl, who helps reignite his desire to survive. It’s a simple premise, but Chaplin was never one to focus too intensely on excess, instead preferring straightforward stories that carry a deep complexity that is only clear once we are at the very heart of the film.

There have been some inexplicable statements that Chaplin was hesitant to adapt to the times, and as someone who was still relatively young and active at the outset of the sound era, he was likely going to have a couple of decades in which to explore it for himself – but yet he still chose to make silent films for a few years after it went out of fashion. Mercifully, the opinions that he was out-of-touch and a Luddite are few and far between, especially since it becomes clear that his reason for making City Lights a silent film does not have anything to do with his hesitance towards the newer technology (consider how Modern Times has some of the most inventive use of both silent and sound filmmaking, becoming one of the rare hybrids of the two), but rather the story was constructed in such a way that it wasn’t driven by dialogue, but rather imagery. As we’ve noted, Chaplin was a great physical comedian, and while his slapstick wasn’t quite on the level of the daring stunts of Keaton or Lloyd, they were still remarkable and made his films extraordinary spectacles in their own right. However, this isn’t the reason why City Lights works so well – instead, we find that this is a film in which the silences say more than the spoken words. There are intertitles provided to give us some sense of the story, but they are merely supplementary, and the film could have entirely done away with them and still been successful. Instead, we find the story being told through images – for example, we find this in the way the characters not only move but look at each other, which is most prominent in the landmark scenes between Chaplin and Virginia Cherrill, especially the final moment that is by far the most beautiful ending to one of his films. Not a word is spoken between them in those last few seconds, yet we understand everything that is happening, precisely because Chaplin emphasizes the universal expression of emotion, something that words simply cannot represent in any conceivable way. These are the elements that go into making City Lights such an extraordinary film, and one of the many aspects that tend to emerge in conversations about the deep complexity of this wonderful film.

While it may not be a spectacle on a visual level (although there are several incredible setpieces throughout this film, some of the most concise directions of Chaplin’s career are found throughout this film), City Lights makes its biggest impact in its emotional inventory. Those venturing into this film expecting an outrageous comedy filled to the brim with gags and the most eccentric humour are likely going to be slightly taken aback – this is a very funny film, but it’s one in which the humour is slightly more subdued. Chaplin has always been seen as the most melancholy of the mainstream silent era comedians, primarily because he understood that even with his mastery of movement and willingness to engage in a lot of physical activity, he was not someone defined by stunts, and instead, he needed to find a new avenue through which to convey his message, especially in terms of the non-verbal channel. A lot of his films carry a deep emotional weight, and City Lights represents some of his most profound commentary, particularly on subjects like class division, economic status and social strata, all of which were actively alluded to throughout this film. There are moments where this story plays like a melodrama, focused on swooning emotions that resonate deeply within the soul of every viewer. This was ultimately Chaplin’s greatest gift, his ability to deconstruct the human condition to be something extraordinarily profound and moving without needing to become heavy-handed, which allows a film like this to be both hilarious and poetic, sometimes even at the same time. The emotions have their roots firmly planted within the human condition, and Chaplin frequently circles back to the overarching message, which is one focused on finding the universal truths of everyday life. City Lights may have been constructed as something of a response to the Great Depression since it was made at the height of the economic troubles in the United States, but there is still something extremely timeless about what it does with these ideas, Chaplin weaving them into a gorgeous and deeply moving manifesto on the power of the human condition, as seen by someone who understood it better than most.

City Lights is not Chaplin’s most ambitious film, nor is it the one that had the most impact in terms of storyline, social commentary or visual prowess (since this would likely be The Circus, The Great Dictator or Modern Times in that order), but yet it is regularly cited as his greatest achievement, for reasons that we can easily understand once we look at everything that this film represents. Chaplin was an extraordinarily gifted performer, and this film offers him the chance to run the gamut of emotions in a way that reminds us of his profound genius, but even beyond his performance (which is extraordinarily strong and some of the best work he has ever done – the pure expressivity he manages to muster is incredible), there is something so poetic about what he is doing throughout this film. He is one of our great visual storytellers, and here he is exploring society in a way that touches on some very raw nerves, but in a way that is honest and endearing, managing to be both funny and heartfelt in equal measure, which is something we find is a common factor in a lot of his work, particularly those that followed on after this. As his final fully-silent film (and coming during a period where he was working much less often, with a few years in between each film), City Lights is a film that represents a transition for the director, as he was already experimenting with form, but likely wanted to bid farewell to the style of filmmaking that launched his career. Even on these very simple terms, the film is incredible, since we feel absolutely every bit of affection Chaplin has for this material reflected throughout the story. It’s extremely simple and has such a profound complexity embedded within it, it’s staggering to imagine that it was made nearly a century ago since it resonates with such incredible complexity and deep sincerity. It’s his finest work, and a film that we cannot ever deny is anything short of a masterpiece – its simplicity of story, combined with its rich and evocative emotions all combine to create a deeply moving testimony to life, both a cautionary tale and a profound celebration of the small moments that make it worth living.