bump69

Joan Crawford's first talkie reveals her to be irresistibly sexy and personable, but her role is hamstrung by the inane plot and contrived dialogue. Unfortunately, this is characteristic of most early MGM talkies. Ernest Torrence is notable as the guardian of Joan's character, but the rest of the cast, Robert Taylor included, is submerged in the froth of this lightweight comedy. See it for Joan, but don't say you weren't warned.

Although one may not agree with the sentiments of Where Are My Children?, nonetheless it is a powerful film dealing with a controversial subject, particularly for its day. Although Weber assumes a pedantic cloak in telling her story, she avoids sensationalizing it. One may disagree with her view of abortion as "perverting" woman's role in parenthood, but to me the focus of the film is the tragedy of Tyrone Power's character not having the children he so desperately wants.

The cast is quite good and from a historical perspective, note that this is the only known film of Helen Riaume, who plays Mrs. Walton. Also worth mentioning is the lovely Rena Rogers (Lillian), whose character serves as the fulcrum for the plot.

The last scene of the film is particularly moving, with Weber superimposing images of people into the picture, one of her favorite cinematic techniques. I highly recommend the film and look forward to viewing it again.

City Lights is my favorite Chaplin feature; the climax is a cinematic masterpiece, as other contributors here will attest. No matter how many times I view the ending (I own the film on videotape), tears still well in my eyes at the close. I consider it one of the best films of all time. The plot contrivance of the "Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde" personality of the millionaire is sheer genius. Others have spoke of the artisty of the boxing match, but my favorite scene is where Charlie, while driving the millionaire's car, sees a discarded cigar butt on the sidewalk. Before he can get to it, a panhandler happens by and leans down to pick it up. Charlie dispatches him with a kick in the pants, grabs the cigar butt and jumps back into his luxury automobile. He leaves the bewildered panhandler scratching his head, wondering why a wealthy man would be so mean as to snatch a discarded butt from the curb. Of course, if one is aware of the grinding poverty Chaplin endured while growing up in south London and of his stingy reputation with a buck, the joke is all the more significant. Certainly The Kid, The Gold Rush, The Circus and Modern Times are all classics, but City Lights wraps pathos, superb pantomime and comic gags into a seamless display of artistry that Chaplin never was able to surpass.