Given it was made near the end of his career, Charlie Chaplin's understated classic Limelight could just have easily been called "Twilight". Throughout the piece, there are subtle moments that denote personal closure towards both his invaluable contributions to cinema and, if viewed in context of his imminent exile from the country shortly after the film's release, an adieu to the United States of America and the values it once seemed to emote. Watching it is like experiencing a highly personalized fond farewell to all of the charms of Vaudeville and an ebbing flame from a bygone era being permanently extinguished.
Chaplin plays Calvero, an aged comedian who once made his living as the toast of Vaudeville, and is now an alcoholic bachelor in urban London. He happens upon the suicide attempt of a young woman named Thereza (Claire Bloom). Upon his timely intervention, he takes her into his apartment and cares for her. The two find they have much in common. Both hope for a big break onstage; Calvero as a stand-up comic and Thereza as a ballet dancer. While her health progresses each day, their conversations touch on philosophical outlooks on life and they slowly become aware that their perceived afflictions (his dependence on alcohol, her belief that her legs do not function properly) may be more psychological than real.
Thereza confides to Calvero she once fell in love with a composer who visited the store where she worked, and, although eventually she also professes her love for her compassionate caregiver, Calvero suspects her feelings may be displaced and tries to point out their substantial age difference. Soon the composer comes back into Thereza's life (played by Chaplin's son, Sydney), and Calvero's erratic, often introspective, behaviour comes at odds with the romantic triangle. All culminates in a special encore public performance, where Calvero's dreams of captivating an audience once more are realized, as are Thereza's aspirations of becoming a graceful ballet dancer.
The film is unquestionably and unflinchingly personal. As writer and director, Chaplin's head and heart are fully integrated into Limelight. When Calvero is shown left alone on an empty stage as lights are slowly switched off one by one all around him, we understand Chaplin feels the same way about his own legacy in the face of newer technological advances and changes in filmmaking. And in another scene, when the comedian looks out into a sea of chairs and does not see a single body in the seats, we recognize at once this must be one of Chaplin's deepest and darkest fears. Rarely has an artist painted such a harsh picture of themselves on the screen. Calvero is tortured, frequently drunk and sad, but he also illicits our pity, as when he is shot down by fellow peers or forced to take unsavoury jobs given to him by his manager. The psychoanalytical musings throughout the script are not simply innocent speculations; they cut to the heart of Chaplin's own thoughts.
The casting also hints at a project of private importance. In addition to Sydney as the soft-spoken composer, Chaplin's children Geraldine, Josephine, Michael and Charles Jr. all appear in the film. As a graceful homage to the greats of Vaudeville, Buster Keaton has a role as Calvero's partner. In a scene late in the picture, the two legendary comics share the screen in an act with impeccable timing and hilarious results. In a similarly reverent ode to Hollywood's yester-years, veteran British actor Nigel Bruce appears as Postant in one of his last film appearances. And Chaplin's inspired casting of the then 20-year old Bloom was no doubt an autobiographical allusion to his own previous marriages to notably younger women.
Although the advent of sound and colour in movies had long since been introduced, Limelight was nevertheless shot in black and white and included some ballet sequences and comic passages without dialogue. The gorgeous score, composed by Chaplin (including an extended classical music portion), received an honourary Oscar in 1972, two decades after the film was first released. Its haunting melody is a testament to Chaplin's vast talent and enriches every frame. Of particular note is the camerawork, often very fluid and much more mobile than any of the actor's previous efforts.
Technically, Limelight was not Chaplin's last film, but it feels like it provides the most potent epilogue to his repertoire. An effective character study through and through, the final minutes are bound to wedge a sentimental lump in the throat of all who view it. While it has been argued that the movie's greatness over the passage of time has been primarily due to its namesake, at the end of the day this is first and foremost a well-made movie, regardless of the Chaplin trademark. Brave, confident, and enriching, Limelight tackles an array of ordinarily difficult issues and treats them all in an expert manner with a tear, a wink, and a smile.
