I consider myself a student of film. I watch a lot of movies. I read about them. As a photographer, I’m always looking at how cinematographers use visual elements as part of the filmmaking. As a writer, I look at how words and the rhythm of dialogue becomes part of a movie. Then I watch them again to see what I missed.



Even the opening titles of North by Northwest make you want to keep watching. The skewed credits by Saul Bass and the chaotic music by Bernard Hermann tell you that nothing is going to be normal or comfortable in this movie. It’s going to be confusing and disorienting.The everyday chaos of Manhattan ad man Roger Thornhill (Cary Grant) is easily handled, but he isn’t ready for the ride he is about to embark upon. North by Northwest is the best of Hitchcock’s man-wrongly-accused films, and Cary Grant the best to take the ride, running the gamut of emotions from inconvenience to indignation and then genuine fear. He also goes from just wanting to extricate himself from his situation to curiosity over what is actually going on. He goes as far as assuming the identity of the man he has been wrongly accused of being in his quest to find answers. The cross-country action is terrific, and the scenes legendary. The crop duster sequence is harrowing, and Hitchcock certainly draws on epic backgrounds with the UN Building and, of course, Mount Rushmore. But what takes North by Northwest into the Essential category is the intimate dialogue between the characters. At times witty, other times naughty, especially between Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint, who is wonderfully confident in her role as the sultry female lead. The innuendo is only barely subtle between the two. The expressions, both verbal and non-verbal are terrific throughout with a great cast that includes James Mason as international spy and Martin Landau as his henchman. North by Northwest is a smart movie. You are allowed to try and figure things out along with Roger Thornhill without having solutions slapped into your face. This film remains at the top of my list of all-time greats.


The cropduster scene, the chase on Mount Rushmore, the art auction scene — all are classics, but I like the dinner scene on the train. Cary Grant is as suave and as smooth as they come, but he is outdone by the savvy and confident Eva Marie Saint. She knows exactly who he is and what he is, and what she wants. The wordplay leaves no doubt about where they are headed, but it’s still a fun back-and-forth.



In the police station, making his one phone call after being arrested for drunk driving:

”Mother, this is your son, Roger Thornhill … No, no, Mother. I have not been drinking. No, no. These two men, they poured a whole bottle of bourbon into me. … No, they didn't give me a chaser.“


THE 39 STEPS  •  1935

If you’re looking for another Hitchcock-Grant pairing, the two worked together on “Suspicion,” “Notorious” and “To Catch a Thief.” Hitchcock also made several films of a man wrongly accused, such as Roger Thornhill in ”North by Northwest.” The best of these is “The 39 Steps,” which features Robert Donat and Madeleine Carroll handcuffed together while going on the run evading authorities and spies.  Also worth mentioning are the early film, “The Lodger,” along with “The Wrong Man” and “Murder!”




As a teenager, I was not unfamiliar with political satire or political comedy. We read “Animal Farm” in school, and I watched “M*A*S*H” on television and had seen the movie, and understood that it was really about Vietnam, not Korea. Other satires like “Blazing Saddles” and “Young Frankenstein” tended toward sight gags and almost slapstick humor. Smart satire of politics, news, business or whatever is very hard to pull off. There is a certain subtlety to it, sometimes with dark humor, almost always with sharp dialogue. Charlie Chaplin produced a not-so-subtle satire of Hitler in “The Great Dictator” back in 1940 and “Sullivan’s Travels” parodied the movie industry in the 40s. “M*A*S*H” was the best satire of war, “Network” took on television and “Being There” took on politics. But the best of them all has been “Dr. Strangelove: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love The Bomb,” Stanley Kubrick’s masterpiece poking fun at global thermonuclear war. With an amazing cast that includes Peter Sellers (playing three different roles), George C. Scott, Sterling Hayden and Slim Pickens, the performances are outstanding. Even the character names are fun, with the sexual undertones not so much innuendo as they are blatantly overt. The connection between male-driven military power and sexual prowess is a running theme in both dialogue and visuals. Kubrick (who would go much darker and more violent later in “ Clockwork Orange”) brings it all together with his visual style in high-contrast black-and-white, wide shots, tight shots. The dialogue and acting runs from farcical to humorously chilling. It’s an interesting note that this film came out eight months before the movie “Fail Safe” which is a serious take on nearly the same scenario of a wayward U.S. bomber headed to Moscow. Both movies took their premise from the book “Red Alert” by Peter George. Both films stand up well on their own, but are a good study when viewed as a package. As with any Kubrick offering, the visuals are a subject all on their own. It takes multiple viewings and perhaps a cheat sheet from one of the many web sites devoted to the subject to catch all Kubrick’s stylings. Multiple viewings are also required just because it’s such a terrific film.


President Merkin Muffley (Peter Sellers, in one of his three roles) finally gets the Soviet premier Dmitri Kissov on the phone to tell him about the rogue bomber on its way to bomb Moscow. Sellers, as President Muffley, carries the scene as we hear only his side of the phone conversation. Despite the graveness of the situation, it seems more like a chat, with the two discussing the sound quality of the call, how each of them are, how friendly the call is, and who is more sorry about the situation. The light, superficial tone of the call is set in contrast to the gravity of the situation, and also to show the “weakness” of Muffley’s diplomacy to the “strength” and manliness of the military.



The funniest line comes when an American general and the Russian ambassador are engaged in a scuffle, and the President says “You can’t fight in here! This is the War Room!” But that’s a one-off line. The better line comes from General Ripper, after initiating the bomber strike on the Soviet Union, explains to Capt. Mandrake (Sellers, again) that he had done it because he thought the Russians had been behind the introduction of fluoridation into the U.S. water system, which he believed was sapping the Americans of their “precious bodily fluids.” It’s the ultimate overcompensation for a moment of male impotence:

“Well, I first became aware of it, Mandrake, during the physical act of love.  Yes, a profound sense of fatigue... a feeling of emptiness followed. Luckily I was able to interpret these feelings correctly. Loss of essence. I can assure you it has not recurred, Mandrake. Women sense my power and they seek the life essence. I do not avoid women, Mandrake. But I do deny them my essence.”


FAIL SAFE  •  1964

It’s probably worth watching the film “Fail Safe,” the straight-forward drama based on the similar circumstances in “Dr. Strangelove.” Both are loosely based on the novel “Red Alert” by Peter George, which is about a nuclear bomber entering Russia accidentally and is unable to be recalled. Both films were released within a year of each other. “Fail Safe” was released second, and suffered from comparisons to Dr. Strangelove. But “Fail Safe” holds up on its own with solid performances by Henry Fonda, Walter Matthau and a young Larry Hagman.



I love a good thriller, a mystery that needs solved. Add in intrigue and a bit of a government element, and I’m all in.  Three Days of the Condor isn’t a movie generally on anyone’s all-time greats list, but it’s a movie I will watch over and over again. The cast is superb, led by Robert Redford as a CIA bookreader who stumbles onto something big enough to warrant the contract killing of everyone in his office. Redford’s Joe Turner (codenamed Condor) escapes the murders, then finds himself on the run, not knowing who to trust. All he has is his is intellect, come from a lifetime of reading everything ever written. He doesn’t have the instincts or experience of a spy; he’s just trying to stay alive.  He abducts Kathy Hale ( Faye Dunaway) to use her apartment as a safe refuge, After Turner is tracked down and nearly killed, he decides to go on the offensive to find out what is going on, rather than trying to outrun whoever is after him. I’ve been a Redford fan for a while, especially in films like this, including All the President’s Men, Sneakers, and Spy Game. Plus, I have to admit, he’s pretty cool with the mutton chop sideburns and the high-collared pea coat. There’s not the best chemistry between Dunaway and Redford, but they are such great actors that they make it work. There is a scene Joe Turner is looking at the photographs of the photographer Kathy Hale. As a photograph myself, I enjoy the talk about her subject matter and what he thinks it says about her. There are other great performers in this one, with Cliff Robertson (Higgins) and John Houseman as the CIA executives, and Max von Sydow as the contract killer, Joubert, himself a former CIA operative. In the end, Turner has become cynical, not knowing who he can trust, if anyone. Only Joubert seems to have things figured out. As a hired killer, he does not have to take sides, and knows someone will always be willing to pay for his services. Turner still wants to believe in people and takes his story to the New York Times, only to be told by Higgins that even the press might not be able to be trusted to print the story. It’s an ending that is typical of Watergate-era films when distrust of government was at its zenith, and leaves you wondering what will happen to Turner. Even Higgins echos that when he tells Turner, “You’re about to be a very lonely man.”


Turner finally tracks down the secret intelligence network inside the CIA. His situation is only temporarily resolved, as he knows he is still without a place to go or anyone to trust. Only the hired killer Joubert can offer him any kind of clarity, suggesting he also become a paid assassin, where you don’t have to take sides, and there is always someone willing to pay, perhaps in Europe. Turner still wants to love his country and wants to stay. Joubert (with von Sydow’s beautiful Alsacian accent) tells him he doesn’t have a future in the States, and delivers a scenario where, on perhaps the first sunny day of the spring, someone Turner might still trust offers safe haven. But even that person is not to be trusted. Joubert  pauses, then holds out a gun for Turner.  He simply says, “For that day.”




An emotionally-drained Turner realizes all his friends are gone and there is nowhere left for him to go:

Kathy: “Oh, God. I wish I knew more. About you, yesterday, today…”
Turner: “I don't remember yesterday. Today it rained.”



“Three Days of the Condor” is a man-on-the-run film which is a plot done many times, including a number of Hitchcock films, and other more recent films like ”The Fugitive.” There is also the theme of government intrigue and secret agencies within agencies. Redford starred in the real-life “All the President’s Men,” and in fictional films “Spy Game” and “Sneakers.” Maybe the best comparison is “Enemy of the State,” where Will Smith is on the run from an shadow faction of the government and must unravel a mystery along the way. He gets help from Gene Hackman’s character Brill Lye, who bears a similarity to Hackman’s character Harry Caul in another government thriller “The Conversation.”



It has become popular recently to not list “Citizen Kane” among the top films. It feels like taking the easy way out. But each time I watch the movie and try to knock it down for flaws, I feel like I’m nit-picking. Yes, there are times when the dialogue feels loud and forced without much subtle nuance - kind of like a stage play. That is understandable, considering it was Welles’ first film, and most of the actors came from his Mercury Theatre acting troupe. But it is remarkably packaged, from the overlapping manner of telling the story to the experimental camera work of Gregg Toland. Toland’s deep-focus technique allowed for parallel actions taking place within one scene. He varied angles and used creative sets to skew the sense of scale and proportion. My favorite acting performance is that of Joseph Cotten as Jed Leland. Leland is Kane's best friend and the one person who knows him best and calls him out in his own way, but yet even Leland doesn't have a full understanding of the complete Kane. Cotten is even better in another of my Essentials, “Shadow of a Doubt.”


These are the stories behind a few of my favorite works over the years. These are the stories behind a few of my favorite works over the years.These are the stories behind a few of my favorite works over the years.These are the stories behind a few of my favorite works over the years.



Now an old man, Mr. Bernstein  is asked if he knew the meaning of Mr. Kane's last word,"Rosebud." He speculated it might have been something very simple or fleeting:

“A fellow will remember a lot of things you wouldn't think he'd remember. You take me. One day, back in 1896, I was crossing over to Jersey on the ferry, and as we pulled out, there was another ferry pulling in, and on it there was a girl waiting to get off. A white dress she had on. She was carrying a white parasol. I only saw her for one second. She didn't see me at all, but I'll bet a month hasn't gone by since that I haven't thought of that girl.”



Really the only way to follow up the classic Welles made in his first film is to watch the second, “The Magnificent Ambersons,” nearly as much as classic as “Citizen Kane.” Like the making of “Kane,” the making of “The Magnificent Ambersons” is as much a story as the movie itself. The version Welles presented RKO was edited by more than 40 minutes, mostly while Welles was away in South America producing a film for the U.S. government. Despite the cuts, the movie is still considered a classic. Many of the players from Welles’ Mercury Theater who appeared in “Citizen Kane” also are in this movie, including Joseph Cotten, Agnes Moorehead and Ray Collins. It is an adaptation of Booth Tarkington’s novel. Despite numerous endings filmed by Welles that veered from the novel, the edited final scene (a happier ending, despite the overall dark tone of the movie) matched that of Tarkington’s book.



“Casablanca” has been called the perfect movie. It certainly has all the elements — a compelling story, great performances from an outstanding cast, memorable scenes, and remarkable visuals. To watch it today, it’s hard to think of anyone else in the legendary roles: Humphrey Bogart as Rick Blaine, Ingrid Bergman as Ilsa Lund, Claude Rains as Capt. Renault. Set in the open city of Casablanca, the shadow of the early days of World War II sets an immediate level of anxiety and intrigue. People from all over Europe have congregated here, looking for ways out or to make money on the black market or in other nefarious ways. There are troops from all sides, along with underground activity, adding to the intrigue. All manner of patriots and scoundrels, all bound together with little opportunity to leave. Dropped into the middle is a basic love triangle — a beautiful woman (Bergman) and the two men who she loves. One is her husband, Czech Resistance leader Victor Lazlo (Paul Henried) who rallies the underground against the Nazis, The other is the dashing American nightclub owner Rick Blaine, whom she had met and fell in love with years earlier in Paris after believing her husband had been killed. Upon finding out Lazlo was still alive, she went to be with him, leaving Rick to leave Paris without her and never knowing why she left him. They are reunited as Ilsa and Victor arrive in Casablanca and enter the Cafe American, not knowing that Rick is the proprietor, and now a bitter cynic still pining for his lost love. Seeing her again prompts one of the most famous lines in filmdom, as a drunk Rick laments, “Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine…” The rest of the movie focuses on two unsolvable situations. Victor and Ilsa want to escape Casablanca for America where he can continue his work, but escape is virtually impossible under the Nazi influence, except for using letter of transit that Rick has in his possession. The other situation is the love triangle in which Ilsa cannot choose which of the two men she loves she will follow. In the end, Rick makes the decision for her, nobly choosing the greater good over individual feelings in his famous scene at the airport. “Casablanca” never gets old. I know all the lines, but at the end, I still have the satisfaction of watching a tremendous piece of filmmaking. It’s Bogart at his best, but he gets help from a great cast, even in the smallest of roles adding to the depth of its excellence. Not to be lost is the music, led by Dooley Wilson’s “As Time Goes By,” maybe the most famous film song ever.


There are a dozen legendary scenes in this movie, and picking one is difficult. The “La Marseillaise” scene is stirring. The roulette scene with the young couple heartwarming. Captain Renault provides smile-inducing lines. But the airport scene at the end of the film can be argued as the greatest in history. It’s certainly among the all-time best. Rick’s speech to Ilsa sending her off with her husband is legendary, but the best moment within the scene comes right after, and is all visual, all symbolic. Victor has returned from making final arrangements, and the three of them are standing together. Victor asks if she is ready. Ilsa is initially at Rick’s side, but shifts her gaze to Victory, leaves and walks across to stand next to him. No words are spoken, but none are needed. All has been decided. Those few steps across the screen have spoken volumes. It takes two seconds, but hits me every time.



This film is filled with memorable lines. The last line “Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.“  “Here’s looking at you, kid.” “Of all the gin joints …”, “Round up the usual suspects”, “The Germans wore gray, you wore blue.” “We’ll always have Paris.” “Play it, Sam.” “I am shocked- shocked- to find that gambling is going on in here!” But I have one line that has always stuck with me. It’s another line from Captain Renault, another smart-ass line that is oh-so-clever. Rick has just revealed to Renault that he had hidden the elusive letters of transit in Sam’s piano:

“Serves me right for not being musical.



You can look at any of Bogart’s films and you’ll get a “Casablanca” vibe, including more classics in “The Maltese Falcon,” “Key Largo” and “The Big Sleep.” Even in “The African Queen” he is paired with a heroine battling Germans. But the most-often comparison comes in “To Have and Have Not,” which some have dubbed “Casablanca on a Boat.” It’s Bogart again, this time in the Caribbean as a boat captain, again in conflict with the German-controlled island of Martinique during World War II. There’s also a nightclub and a piano player (this time it’s Hoagy Carmichael), and a sultry female lead — Lauren Bacall, making her film debut at the age of 19, and her first of four films with Bogart, with whom she was starting one of Hollywood’s great pairings and love stories. The comparisons of this film to Casablanca continue right down to having a famous line. In this film, it’s when Bacall turns to Bogart as she leaves the room, “You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow.”



The great thing about Hitchcock is the many different ways he creates suspense. He can move you to the edge of your seat with pure terror, such as “The Birds,” or how our minds affect our reality, like “Vertigo” or “Rear Window.” Hitchcock called “Shadow of a Doubt” his favorite film, and style here is unique. Hitchcock doesn’t wait until the end to unravel a mystery. He tells you right from the beginning that Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten) is a miserable, cynical serial killer. His train arrives in town spewing black smoke, portending the darkness he is bringing to the sunny city. We know his is the killer. The suspense comes from how or if his naive, small-town family will uncover his terrible secret. He hardly holds back or tries to hide who he is. His soliloquy at dinner is chilling, but barely causes a ripple among family members. Only his niece (Teresa Wright), who believes she has a special connection to her beloved uncle “twin,” begins to understand who he is and that he has brought his dark world and a certain bit of reality into their idyllic setting. The rest of the family blissfully floats through life, in spite of Uncle Charlie’s overt pronouncements. Even the benign game that Joseph and his friend, Herbie, play about how to get away with murder doesn’t register in its morbidity. The psychological drama we follow is with Young Charlie as the veil of the real world is slowly lifted. Her quest for adventure results in seeing that there is a dark world out there, and it has swallowed her uncle. In the end, although she loves him, she must destroy him. The cinematography does a wonderful job in subtleties from shot to shot, creating the "twins" symmetry between Uncle Charlie and Young Charlie and including visuals with reference to death and dying. Hitchcock also uses the camera to convey varying emotions or even morality with his use of lighting, perspective and angles.


There are three main scenes that really stand out to me. One is visual, and the other two are moments by Uncle Charlie, explaining his bleak view of society. The first, mentioned earlier, is Uncle Charlie’s arrival in town. The thick, black smoke of the train coming into the station is an ominous sign of the evil entering the quiet, naive town. Uncle Charlie needs assistance getting off the train, he has a cane and is obviously a broken man. But after breathing the pure air of this good town, he suddenly becomes reenergized and soon has a spring in his step.Uncle Charlie’s first speech comes at dinner, as the camera pulls in tight from the side and the background goes black. He compares widowed women as fatted cattle, wheezing and waiting for slaughter. Only Young Charlie is disturbed by this vileness, saying the women are still living human beings. Uncle Charlie turns and looks directly into the camera and coldly says, “Are they? Are they, Charlie?” The third scene comes immediately after the dinner scene. Young Charlie has fled the house and her uncle follows her to a smoky bar, a place the Young Charlie would never have gone into on her own. There, Uncle Charlie tells his young niece how she has led a sheltered life, a dream life away from the ugliness of the real world - his world. She knows by now he is a murderer and bitter man, but in this speech, Uncle Charlie is almost begging her to turn him in and end his pain. He tells her “Wake up, Charlie. Use your wits. Learn something.”



In a movie with a dark tone, there are lighter moments, sort of. Young Charlie’s father, Joe, and their neighbor, Herb, have an ongoing contest about ways to commit with murder without getting caught, including drowning and poisoning by mushrooms. It’s a macabre game, but basically harmless. Still, it bothers Young Charlie, who wonders how they could be so flippant:

YOUNG CHARLIE: “Oh, what's the matter with you two? Do you always have to talk about killing people?”
JOSEPH NEWTON: “We're not talking about killing people. Herb's talking about killing me and I'm talking about killing him.”


STOKER  •  2013

It’s difficult to find a film that has the same complex setup as “Shadow of a Doubt.” Certainly, there are plenty of good vs. evil films, those where a malevolent entity enters into idyllic settings, and even those where the evil force appears good. But it wasn’t until a little-known film “Stoker” came out in 2013 did a similar plot emerge. Directed by South Korea’s Park Chan-wook, the movie stars Nicole Kidman. The story involves a young woman whose father dies, and at the funeral she meets her father’s brother — her Uncle Charlie — for the first time. Over the course of the film, the woman slowly learns that the charismatic Charlie is not who he seems. While the movie is more violent and is close to the horror genre, the film’s writer acknowledges that he was highly influenced by “Shadow of a Doubt,” down to the naming the uncle “Charlie.” There is also the psychological connection between the niece and her uncle, and there are nods to the original film with scenes on a staircase and involving trains.



When I had my own apartment and needed cheap decorations, I thought I would put up some posters, like a lot of 20-something single males have done and still do. I liked movie posters and had an art-deco style “King Kong” poster. I also found a poster for Charlie Chaplin’s “City Lights” that I really liked and had on my wall for several years. I had never seen the movie, but at that time, I thought the poster would make me look a bit more eclectic and interesting. I decided I would try and find the movie to watch, but in the early days of video rental stores, it wasn’t easy to find a 1930s silent film, even if it was considered a classic. I finally found a copy and after a viewing, I realized that my taste in movie posters was justified by the quality of the film. I’m not an expert in silent films, but I can tell that Chaplin is a master in the art of dialogue without words. His expressions make the scene, even without the subtitles. The physicalness of his Little Tramp character is legendary. But it is still amazing to watch the way he moves and the choreography of those movements. I learned later that Chaplin was a perfectionist and would do take after take until he got the scene just the way he wanted it. The opening scene where he works his way off a statue, and the classic boxing sequence were done with such precision. They certainly needed to be rehearsed over and over, because of the long single takes in each scene. One wrong move or even a move out of tempo would cause the whole take to be scrapped and redone. Even in what seems to be a simple story, I read that Chaplin shot more than 300,000 feet of film to make “City Lights,” with its completed length at just over 8,000 feet. That means Chaplin shot 40 times as much footage as ended up in the final product. The result, while a simple story, is told beautifully with a certain depth. The comic side scenes are not only funny, but within them there are the small movements that give that extra touch that Chaplin worked so hard to achieve. By the time this film premiered in 1931, talking pictures were the norm, but Chaplin wasn’t ready to give up on the silent medium. It was a relative new medium, but filmmaking was still smart, and Chaplin was a master. It’s a sweet story of the destitute Little Tramp trying to help the blind flower girl, first for rent money, then for funds to get her an operation to let her see again. The blind girl thinks her benefactor is wealthy, and the Little Tramp lets her believe that. He disappears from her life just as she regains her sight and begins s new life.Their paths finally cross again. She is the now-successful flower shop owner, and the Tramp is even more down on his luck. Not recognizing him, she offers him a flower for his lapel. It’s not until she touches his hand that she realizes who he is. The smile on her face shows that she accepts him for who he is, not for how he looks or that he is not rich. That’s all that is needed to bring a smile to his face as the film ends. It’s one of the best closing scenes in all of the history of movies.


The ending of the movie is special. It brings a tear to your eye every time. Again, it has subtitles, but in reality, none are needed. The scene I enjoy most, though, is the boxing scene. Physical comedy is difficult. The great Marx Brothers mirror pantomime is a classic of coordination, and the boxing scene in “City Lights” takes that to another level. Again, long takes of tempo, timing, coordination of movement and space are remarkable. The actors make it look effortless, but as you watch, you realize the level of physical coordination it took to pull off the scene. It not only takes the brilliance of Chaplin, but also of the actors he works with. Many of the physical comedy routines pioneered by Chaplin, along with his silent film contemporary Buster Keaton, have been copied by filmmakers ever since.




It’s a silent film, so the lines are subtitles. Actually, words aren’t even necessary. The expressions fill in for dialogue. It’s simple. It ends the film. It’s just a few words, but it says everything. The blind girl says that, yes, she can she now. She sees everything, not just the new colors of the world around her, but really sees things. She sees the Little Tramp in his shabby clothes and understands all that he done for her and it doesn’t matter that he isn’t a wealthy benefactor. It’s a vision that goes beyond physical sight.:

The Tramp: “You can see now?”
The Blind Girl: "Yes, I can see now.“


THE KID  •  1921

Chaplin’s “Little Tramp” is his most famous character as the rumpled vagrant with the benevolent heart who goes out of his way to help others while all the while trying to survive himself. “City Lights” is the best of these silent films made between 1914 and 1936. In a similar way to how the Tramp plays benefactor to the blind girl in “City Lights,” Chaplin finds himself as father to an abandoned baby in “The Kid.” The little Tramp raises the boy (Jackie Coogan, who would later play Uncle Fester in “The Addams Family”) as his own, until the boy’s mother reappears years later. The boy is taken from him and to his mother, who had offered a reward for the boy. A kind policeman takes the Tramp to the mother’s house and the boys and his adoptive father are reunited, and the mother takes the Tramp into her house, grateful for raising her son. The ending is similar to “City Lights” in that the Tramp is accepted for his good deeds and heart, and not for his shabby look.