s with most of Chaplin’s works, the premise is simplistic yet brimming with potential emotional impact. Here, the story centers on a ballerina and a clown, set in London in the summer of 1914. Inebriated Mr. Calvero (Charles Chaplin) stumbles upon the attempted suicide scene of working girl Thereza Ambrose (Claire Bloom), who swallowed poison and turned on the gas in her apartment. To revive her, Calvero retrieves a doctor, who then suggests that the elderly savior, living two floors up, should personally look after her to avoid an inquiry that could result in jailing. The cantankerous landlady gives Calvero a month before she speaks out about Thereza’s activities and offenses, insisting that the kindly drunk take care of the scandalous situation quickly and quietly.

Calvero’s past is revealed in a dream sequence in which he sings and wrangles with Phyllis and Henry, the performing fleas on a stage. His bit is dry, and although the audience applauds, he awakes to the stare of empty seats, reminding him of his loss of stardom. Throughout the film, he continues to revisit his former greatness and the comical skits he enacted to packed crowds. When Thereza regains consciousness, she reveals that she was a dancer with the Empire Theatre Ballet (and not a prostitute, as was assumed) and, despite still being disconsolate about her future, agrees to assume the role of Calvero’s wife (in name only) to avoid gossip from the neighbors. A day later, she breaks down further when she can’t leave her bed, fearing total paralysis of her legs. The doctor determines that she’s a case for a psychologist, possessing a psychologically self-imposed crippling as a subconscious retaliation and loathing for her failed suicide attempt. Calvero’s mission becomes to lift her spirits and nurse her mental state back to normalcy – though his means of financing their survival are rapidly dwindling.

“What sad business, being funny,” muses Thereza, confronting the pervasive theme in “Limelight,” which uses a comedian as its central role, only to impart a somber meditation on happiness and happiness lost. The fading glamor of Calvero’s early successes unmistakably resembles Chaplin’s own reflections on his career, having drastically slowed his production throughout the ‘40s and ‘50s, struggling to maintain fans. The dialogue is superb, visiting philosophical, engaging, uplifting, spirited conversations about the characters’ lives, some of which is wondrous fantasy, others of which are presented as melancholy tragedy. Calvero’s increasing inability to connect with contemporary audiences is saddening and yet relevant as he combats failure and isolation. He ponders the meaning of life, an unswerving positive outlook (“Live for the moment!”) versus firm despair, and existence motivated by love and pity. As the film progresses, he depends on his ill houseguest as much as she relies on him; in a brilliant display of theatrics, their roles gradually reverse. In the end, bliss is elusive to those who cannot believe they are deserving of it – or as the introductory lines would relate, it’s representative of an end and a beginning, a cycle as orchestrated by the power of the limelight.

There’s something immediately moving and endearing about two disheartened people clinging to one another for encouraging support. It’s a notion often repeated in Chaplin’s endeavors, reminiscent in many ways to “Monsieur Verdoux” (while also hinting at relationships in “Modern Times” and “City Lights”). He dispenses with worries through philosophical lightheartedness (and booze) while she tries to escape life itself. Chaplin might not be “the tramp” character from before (in the strictest sense), but his aging clown definitely retains some familiar characteristics – a drunken stupor, exaggerated expressions, a peculiar gait, quirky dances, a signature match-lighting technique, scarceness of words (initially), and daintiness in movement – all of which harken back to the famousness of his mustached vagabond (Calvero is, in fact, described in his advertising poster as a “tramp comedian”).

Once again, the film’s story, screenplay, musical composition and arrangement, choreography, producing, and direction are by Charles Chaplin – and, of course, he takes the lead role as well. “Limelight” proves that the artist hasn’t lost his affinity for storytelling, developing characters, and crafting poignant scenarios of human misery and compassion. He also weaves together the rich and poor and successful and unsuccessful, often having those personas shift back and forth – a revelation he addressed frequently in previous movies. The only elements that stretch the runtime are the generous portions of the ballet and comedy skits performed, which are still an amusing visual experience even if they carry on too long. Of special note is Chaplin’s son, Sydney, taking the love interest role, while Buster Keaton fittingly assumes a bit part as Calvero’s piano-playing partner – the only time the two comedy legends would appear together on film.

– Mike Massie