CINEMA
Limelight. (Odeon.)—The Turning Point. (Plaza.)
MR. CHARLES CHAPLIN* has recaptured in Limelight the magic that seemed to be slipping from his grasp in Monsieur Verdoux, and what is perhaps odd is that this magic is largely evoked by his voice, an instrument he has never before played in public. Here is a stranger, a fascinating elderly necromancer, a fatherly wizard, a white-haired, kindly, charming, voluble and, of course, tragic Mr. Chaplin. As we know, all true comedians harbour the seed of tragedy in their souls, but whereas in former days Mr. Chaplin's was planted in humour he has now bedded it down in the novelette. For he plays the part of an ageing vaudeville artist who rescues a future ballerina from committing suicide, sets her feet on the upward path and, realising that her professed love can only be gratitude, goes out of her life on a fast descending slide. A story eminently suitable for a sob maga- zine, and it has, indeed, a script worthy of the worst bookstalls, yet both Mr. Chaplin and Miss Claire Bloom handle it with such sin- cerity, with such a warm sort of innocence that it seems as though one heard it for the first time.
Certainly it is the first time that Mr. Chaplin has concentrated his powers on straightforward dramatic acting, and it is a magnificent tribute to his genius that he completely succeeds in making one forget the old Charlie. The " little man " is gone, but, after the first impact of meeting a new star, he is not missed. Indeed it is in the moments when his near-relative, once in a straw boater, once in hunting clothes and once with a violin, appears—moments which inevitably recall the baggy-trousered old friend—that one misses him least of all. Not that these sequences are not funny—Mr. Chaplin with his performing fleas and in his musical interlude with Mr. Buster Keaton is a joy—but somehow, such is the appeal of the sad elderly gentleman with the compelling voice, one wants to get back to him. To those who still look to Mr. Chaplin for nothing but side-splitting laughs this film may be a disappointment ; and yet I do not think it will be. In any event it is a notable tour de force, for he has not only written and directed it but also composed the score, which includes a concerto, a ballet and three songs—not strikingly original music perhaps, but plucking effectively at the heartstrings at the appropriate times. Save for the naive but incon- testable idea that life, even at its most tragic, is worth living, Mr. Chaplin appears to have no message, no desire to point a moral or preach a sermon. Hanging by his eyelashes at times on the edge of bathos, he invariably, with the true artist's instinctive sense of balance, redeems the situation, timing his " business " to perfection, as though he were lightly mocking himself.
Miss Bloom, looking like a tearful flower, plays her difficult part, that of a youthful hypochondriac, with great grace and tenderness ; Mr. Sydney Chaplin is unassuming, and M. Andre Eglevsky and Miss Melissa Haydn make pleasurable a ballet which, for all its brevity, is far too long. The film itself, I might add, runs for two- and-a-half hours. To all intents and purposes a one-man show, it proves once again that the man is unique, stamping everything he touches with his personal brand. Whether successful or not, Lime- light must gain the applause of all for being the product of Mr. Chaplin's own fertile imagination, a child of his own powerfully individualistic creativeness.
This cannot be said of The Turning Point which, though it is extremely workmanlike and has some good taut situations, follows one of the screen's most favoured crime-patterns, that of the reporter breaking up a crime syndicate on his own. The inventiveness and imagination shown here are by now public property. Mr. William Dieterle is a fine director, and he steers Mr. William Holden, Miss Alexis Smith and Mr. Esmond O'Brien through the mazes of cor- ruption with an old professional hand, and yet, in spite of many admirable virtues, the film has a tired look, rather as though it were loth to drag its feet along the familiar corpse-studded road.
VIRGINIA GRAHAM.
* On page 512 Miss Graham reviews two books on Mr. Chaplin.
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