City Lights

Here's a rare example of a time I agree with the AFI's revisions to its list.  In the original 1998 list, this charming number was ranked 76th, but in the 2007 revisions it was, I think rightly, moved up to number 11.  I had never watched a silent feature length film before, so my expectations were low, but I was captivated throughout.  City Lights is everything a romantic comedy should be: by turns hilarious, suspenseful, socially astute and deeply moving.  While Chaplin's comedic chops are the obvious star here, I think he deserves even more credit as writer and director for accomplishing without words (without spoken words at least) what all the Matthew McConaugheys and Cameron Diazes and Nicholas Sparkses in all of modern cinema can't do with scores of well-paid writers and technicians.

Sometimes, out of habit, I judge a piece of media by its "teachableness", by which I mean whether I could show it to a class of low socioeconomic status students (I am thinking of a specific class from my fourth year of teaching), and have them learn something from it without being bored to tears.  I would love to show this movie (or part of it) to such a class, and watch their minds expand a little.  At first they would roll their eyes and groan at the prospect of watching a black and white movie--let alone a silent one.  I can hear it now "What the fuck, Payne?  Do you hate us or something?"  Then they would self-consciously repress a giggle when Chaplin's pants get caught on a  statue.  After about five minutes, one of them would break the ice and give a full belly laugh, probably when the blind girl throws water in his face.  It would be all smiles from there, and at the end of the class, one of them would begrudgingly say, "I didn't think old shit could be that funny . . ."  Although I enjoyed City Lights immensely, especially the ending, I'm aware that my enjoyment alone does not make a great movie.  To have soften the hearts and open the minds of a group of juvenile delinquents is a much better measure.