A common occurrence for me during these month-long blocks is a man named Charlie Chaplin. This will mark the third year in a row I’ve seen a film involving him, and I think I’ll keep that trend going for future Marches. This is a bit of a bittersweet film for him, though, showcasing the parallel between his real-life career twilight and the character’s within. This is the second-to-last film he had a starring role in. Limelight is very appropriately named.

Chaplin’s later years as a filmmaker were far more emotionally charged than the zany, almost cartoonishly wholesome origins of his “Tramp” character. To some extent, I’m glad I started with something more grandiose in The Dictator, allowing me to see the end point of an evolutionary style from the infancy of film. Going into this, I figured it would be deeply sentimental. I was not wrong.