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Chaplin could do anything as well or better than anyone else in movies: acting, writing, directing, composing, producing, editing, even choreographing. He was world renown as a comedian, yet has placed some of the most poignant images on film that ever were. He was, even more than the great Orson Welles, a sort of one man band.

He was as successful worldwide as anyone ever was in movies. Somehow in all this, he got the idea that he had something worthwhile to say about life and art. Which he did with this film.. and I for one am extremely grateful.

The subjects of alcoholism... depression... aging... the fickle relationships of audiences and performers... these are all covered in a film that manages to fit in philosophical dialog, pantomime, dancing, and music. The multiple showings of the same comedy sequence (in a dream, in front of an unappreciative audience, in front of a wildly appreciative audience) gets one to thinking about the lemming-like nature of people in a way that someone like Chaplin would have had almost unique insight into.

It may take a while to become accustomed to the odd pacing and cadence of a Chaplin movie; once you are, you find yourself in the middle of an artistic experience like no other.

The music in this film is unusually haunting and deserving of the Academy award it belatedly received. 10 out of 10.

Most ordinary people fall into a role and a persona in their lives, and tend to not veer very far from it if it provides for them. Perhaps, due to extreme situations, they may find it necessary to reinvent themselves once or twice and rise to the occasion or fall into dissolution.

An artist like Chaplain had to reinvent himself over and over again over four decades, particularly in a medium that was changing every few years. That's probably why he had so many failed marriages with younger woman; he had to feel like a "player" to keep the flow going and fight back the doubt and anxiety (and the terror of becoming irrelevant) that inevitably begins to haunt creative men in their twilight years. Don't underestimate the power of sex magic!

Limelight is a film about those demons, and the immense courage (and yes, the love of a much younger woman, too, doesn't hurt), that is required to triumph over them. Still, everyone knows there is one specter that no man can outrun -- Death. Chaplain masks this existential dimension in layers of sentimental melodrama which you will have to decide for yourself is effective, but I think he does this intentionally to smuggle in some deep and darker themes that filmmakers like Bergman would become famous for continually exploring masterfully.

I found myself going back and forth with Limelight; there are times when the melodrama overpowers the film, and the pedestrian cinematography doesn't help matters. A few times I felt like I was watching the old Abbot and Costello TV show, particularly the apartment scenes. However, Chaplain is such an immense presence you can't help be engaged and encouraged to keep watching because you want so much for his character Calvero to triumph. His co-star, Claire Bloom, is quite effective, too, and she has several "looks" in this film to contrast and mirror the ongoing struggle the old comedian in having internally.

Getting on in years myself, and feeling washed up and without hope and purpose, Calvero's plight and faltering desire to once again command the Limelight was quite cathartic. I was amazed by his final performance with Keaton; when Calvero starts rocking that violin like Eddie Van Halen in his prime, I was in a state of sublime fascination. Here was a true artist giving everything up for his audience, feeling the peak thrill of having the audience at his command once again for a few fleeting moments; a thrill that, tragically, he will pay dearly for.

We can only hope that we, too, can earn such an exalted death as Calvero's. Perhaps that is Chaplain's hidden message in this film; that life is, in the final analysis, about striving for a death that ennobles those you leave behind.

A washed-up, formerly-famous Music Hall comic, Charlie Chaplin, saves a suicidal ballerina, Claire Bloom. In the process of giving her the hope to move on and succeed, he regains the confidence to return to the stage himself.

"Limelight" is a moving and autobiographical film that works as both a bittersweet drama and a mirror into the soul of one of the world's greatest film makers. I sometimes wondered if my affection for this film is based on my knowledge of Chaplin's life and career, and the parallels between "Limelight" and people and incidents in his own life. When I watch this film I see an artist standing naked at a crossroads before his audience, unsure where to go and what to do. However, I know the film does not require an advanced degree in Chaplin to enjoy. My wife, who could probably do little more than identify the Tramp in a lineup before marrying me, loved this film before she met me. I have also had the good fortune to see the film in a theater in New York and watch it work its wonders on an audience. Stylistically, it might be dated, but the magic lingers.

"Limelight" is best viewed as a drama with comedy rather than a comedy with drama. Outwardly, it is the simple story of a vulnerable youth who mistakes her gratitude for love, and an older man wise enough to know the difference. But it's more than that too. It's about an artist's nature, and the addictive power of applause. The Chaplin character, Calvero, knows how to make people laugh, but feels he has lost the ability to do so. He realizes he is at the end of his career, but he still hungers for one final moment in the limelight. The film is talky and philosophical, and, yes, a little pompous and pretentious at times too. It's almost as if Chaplin is trying to impart through words the simple joys and mystery of life he was once able to express effortlessly through simple slapstick alone. Does this flood of words mean Chaplin has lost his skills as a film maker? No. He still has the power to move.

"Limelight" is Chaplin's final masterpiece. It is one of my favorites. I prefer to think of it as his last film. Should this be your first Chaplin film? No. Start with films like "The Gold Rush," "City Lights," and "The Great Dictator." Come to know the comedian before you get to know the man.

Charlie Chaplin is one of the undisputed masters of the cinema. He was one of the funniest actors of the cinema, and he was also one of the greatest directors. Of course, the films that he is most famous for are his silent comedies, especially The Gold Rush, City Lights, and Modern Times. The latter two were the product of Chaplin's stubborn clinging to the format and conventions of the silent cinema, though everyone else had gone to sound. This stubbornness was certainly sound. His contemporaries such as Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd lost popularity when they moved to sound. Chaplin's last two silent films were popular and made a lot of money. Audiences may have craved sound, but they craved Chaplin, too, and did not disdain his silence. He was one of the silent artists who thought that they were just achieving the peak of their medium when sound came in. He proved himself right, since City Lights (1931) and Modern Times (1936) are probably his two best films, and both are two of the best films ever made.

Finally, in 1940, Chaplin directed and starred in his first talkie, The Great Dictator. Three more followed, Monsieur Verdoux, then Limelight, then King of New York, which happens to be the only one of these four I have not seen. The Great Dictator and Monsieur Verdoux were both good films in their own way, but perhaps Chaplin's in depth political commentary in these films detracted from them. The type of comedy that you find in his silent films did not mix well with this social commentary. The simple juxtapositions of the worlds of the poor and the rich in City Lights and Modern Times were far more powerful than what his first two talkies had to offer.

Then came Limelight, one of the most bittersweet films ever made. It is not perfect, but it achieves a grand melodramatic beauty that few films have ever even approached. The story is simple: a washed-up, old vaudvillian rescues a young ballet dancer from suicide. He takes care of her until she is healthy again, and even restores her confidence. The story may be simple, but the character dynamics are very complex. As the dancer, Theresa, is recovering, Calvero is not only rebuilding her confidence, but also his own. Theresa, because of his kindness towards her, finally believes she has fallen in love with him, even going so far as proposing marriage to him. Whether she actually loves him or not, and Calvero strongly asserts that she shouldn't and doesn't, these two characters have a constantly evolving relationship that does not end until the credits role. It is utterly fascinating, captivating, and dramatic.

There are a couple of problems, and though they're small, they deserve attention. Perhaps the biggest problem is that Claire Bloom is quite guilty of overacting. Her line delivery is bizarre and overdramatic. This isn't a big deal, since you ought to be keenly aware that the film takes place in the world of melodrama, and is thus exaggerated. Another thing that irked me is Buster Keaton's role. It is little more than a cameo. In fact, his character doesn't even have a name in the credits. This is truly disappointing, seeing that he, although Chaplin may have had the most heart, was the all-around funniest silent comedian.

Charles Chaplin stars as Calvero, an alcoholic, washed-up music hall comedian who saves a rooming house neighbor from committing suicide when he passes by her door and smells gas. The neighbor, young ballet dancer Thereza (Claire Bloom), attempted suicide because she believes that she will never walk and therefore never dance again. She stays with Calvero while she recuperates, and the old comic starts to improve himself as he sets out to get Thereza the chance to prove herself as a world-class dancer. Thereza wants to marry Calvero in spite of their large age difference (I won't go into how art is imitating life here), but he feels that a young composer (Sydney Earl Chaplin) would be a better match. Complications ensue.

Chaplin's last starring role came in this bittersweet drama, a massive hit everywhere else in the world, but barely released in the U. S. due to Chaplin being labeled a "dangerous leftist". I had the same opinion of this that I did with many of his silent movies: it's technically proficient, but the sentimentality is a bit too thick, and it often seems blatantly phony, and not earned by what has been shown on screen. I've grown to like many of Chaplin's films on repeat viewings, and even love a couple of them, but I've always preferred the work of Buster Keaton. It was nice seeing the two on screen together, but it wasn't for long enough. The movie eventually received an Oscar-qualifying premiere in L. A. twenty years later, and thus bizarrely won the 1972 Oscar for Best Score (Charles Chaplin, Ray Rasch, and Larry Russell).