Limelight (1952)

This is, to my knowledge, the only instance of Buster working on film with Charlie Chaplin.  It’s most definitely a Chaplin film rather than a collaboration (as supposed to the Fatty Arbuckle shorts, which see a lot more Keatonesque humor as they go on,) but while Buster’s role is small, it’s quite memorable, and for my money, the short sequence featuring him and Chaplin together is the height of the film.

Calvero is a faded star, a former stage clown who’s given himself over to drink and has been living in relative obscurity for some time.  When he discovers a young woman in his boarding house trying to commit suicide, he saves her and, at the doctor’s request, takes her in to look after her.  The young woman, Thereza, is also a former stage artist, a ballerina who’s fallen into ill health and poverty.  The two begin a gentle friendship, each alternately encouraging the other to go back to performing and recover the sense of purpose they both feel they’ve lost.

I’ll be upfront and admit I’ve seen shockingly-little Chaplin.  As a matter of fact, other than one silent short (Sunnyside, for anyone who’s counting,) this is really all I’ve seen.  The film is from later in his career – a period when, as I understand it, some feel Chaplin had taken the idea of himself as an auteur a bit too much to heart.  I can see that here.  The film does have kind of a self-important air to it, and I can believe that it’s more overinflated than much of Chaplin’s earlier work, even without having seen most of it.

The tone is interesting.  In a way, it reminds me of a Charles Dickens book, in that there are heavy doses of both comedy (although here, it’s physical humor rather than social satire) and sentimental drama that borders on the maudlin – for instance, there are numerous scenes of Thereza throwing herself weeping into Calvero’s arms, and Calvero gets plenty of “sad clown putting on a brave face” moments.  Now, to take it back to Dickens for second, I’m not opposed to sentimental drama as an overall rule – there are all sorts of Dickens scenes that get me right in the feels.  But for every “David Copperfield and Peggotty talking through the keyhole” moment (earnest and heartbreaking) there’s a “death of little Nell” moment (overwrought to the point that you can’t take it seriously.)  And that’s kind of what’s going on here.  There are places where the drama is just Too Much, and it feels silly instead of affecting.

Buster’s character doesn’t have a name – he’s only credited as Calvero’s Partner, a fellow aging comedian who joins Calvero in a stage act late in the film.  Even though he’s only around briefly, there’s enough to get a sense of his character.  He’s excited to be treading the boards again, but he’s also a little edgy about everyone going on about him and Calvero being blasts from the past.  “If one more person says it’s like old times…” he grouses.

But it’s seeing him onstage that’s the real treat.  Chaplin’s Calvero gets the main action, hamming it up in the foreground, but Buster is absolutely low-key hysterical in the background.  The premise of their routine is that Buster is the piano accompanist for Calvero’s violin piece and, as in any slapstick piece worth its salt, mishaps ensue.  Buster weaves gold out of the smallest moments, whether it’s getting his (approximately one billion pieces of) sheet music completely out of order or realizing on a slow-burn that he’s accidentally stepped on Calvero’s violin.  There’s also a hilarious snippet in which he’s playing so furiously that he plays himself right off his revolving stool and, lying prone on the floor, keepings pounding away at the keys.

Warnings

Slapstick violence, drinking, and thematic elements (including attempted suicide.)