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Sunset Boulevard - 1950
Directed by Billy Wilder
Written by Charles Brackett, Billy Wilder & D. M. Marshman Jr.
Starring William Holden, Gloria Swanson, Erich von Stroheim & Nancy Olson
It's as relevant today as it ever was. A strange mixture of reality and fable which cut so close to actuality that Gloria Swanson and Erich von Stroheim were almost playing themselves - albeit horrifically twisted versions in this Hollywood horror story. Cecil B. DeMille, Buster Keaton, Hedda Hopper and others did play themselves. To this very day, there are those in the industry that sell themselves out for the chance to play a lucrative part in the Hollywood dream, and there are still actresses who become enchanted with fame - only to be discarded when their youthful looks and vigour fade, soon replaced by a never-ending supply of sweet young beauties. What I love most about this film though, is how it makes me feel two completely contradictory emotions - I sadly pity and want to soothe the deluded and desperate Norma Desmond, and at the same time I angrily despise her psychological need for continued fame and youth, and her delusional belief that she's still living the years she left behind so long ago.
Struggling screenwriter Joe Gillis (William Holden) - a wry cynic who is narrating his own story from beyond the grave - is fleeing the men attempting to repossess his much needed car when he happens to find himself down the driveway of an old, decrepit mansion. A butler, Max Von Mayerling (Erich von Stroheim) eagerly invites him in, and he meets Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson) who has mistaken him for the man summoned to assist in the burial of her pet chimpanzee. Gillis soon recognizes her as a long-forgotten star of silent movies, and sees Desmond's fervent desire to reinvigorate her career as kind of ridiculous - but she has money and is in need of a writer. He agrees to work on her screenplay, and the two become entangled. The faded star lavishes him with gifts and money - anything he wants, but Gillis finds himself confronted with someone obviously not on great terms with reality. When the fact that she's no longer a great star starts to break her, he starts to slip away to co-write with young writer Betty Schaefer (Nancy Olson) - when suicide attempts, pleading and demanding no longer work, Desmond lashes out in anger, after which she crosses over completely into her fantasy world.
There has been so much said about Sunset Boulevard that it would just feel repetitive to grind out all the same old facts. All that's left to really say is what it means to me personally - Billy Wilder is a filmmaker whose films I either absolutely love (Double Indemnity, Witness For the Prosecution) or find particularly overrated (Some Like it Hot, The Seven Year Itch). It seems that it's his humour which I don't connect with, whereas every other part of what he does I find particularly attractive - but I have to concede that there is a peculiarly dark strain of comedy which exits in this film all the same. All of the sardonic comments from Gillis, and all of the times Norma Desmond says or does something which illustrates just how out of touch she is with reality - there's not one that doesn't hit in a very precise and perfect manner. There are also funny metaphorical moments, such as when Desmond is brushed by the microphone boom, and she angrily shoves it aside. The first time I watched this film, I was taken aback by the fact that there is not one thing wrong with it - every moment succeeds in doing what it was exactly intended to do. It has the unmistakable stamp of "masterpiece" to it.
John F. Seitz was the cinematographer who once again worked his noir magic on this film, and as he had with Wilder films such as Five Graves to Cairo, Double Indemnity and The Lost Weekend he'd be nominated for an Oscar for his work. He'd never win, despite being nominated 7 times (4 of those being Billy Wilder films.) Wilder and Seitz would usually disturb every speck of dust on the set before filming indoor segments of the film, creating a tomb-like, old and creepy atmosphere for Desmond's home. Also interesting is the pool shot at the beginning, where the audiences sees the body of Gillis from deep down inside the swimming pool he's floating in. The camera was actually looking down into a mirror, bringing us the view we get. Also, of course, there are shadowy shots - I particularly like our first obstructed view of the delusional, housebound star, not only behind prison-like shaded bars, but wearing sunglasses - secreted so far into that lair of hers that she hardly seems to exist. Right from the very first shot, there's invention here that feels fresh despite being nearly 75 years old. Sunset Boulevard is a visually fun film, and one that's very astute in guiding the viewer in an unambiguous, exact manner.
Sunset Boulevard's score is a revelation. Once you start to consciously hear the tango, and then pick out the moments where a saxophone lets out strains of bebop, you also gain a conscious understanding of what composer Franz Waxman is doing with this famous film score. Obviously Gillis is the hip younger writer, the jazz as opposed to the tango which Norma Desmond has her young prey dancing to. It's a wonderful combination you can hear, which often combines into crashing waves of intensity and insanity. Waxman's score would be ranked at #16 on the American Film Institute's list of the best 25 film scores of all time. He'd also win an Oscar and Golden Globe for it. Older film scores often feel a little too overbearing for my tastes, but I feel like this one is really cool in the way it underscores not only the emotion of the moment, but the clash of characters and their psychological substance. It's a clever score, and also a very powerful and well-written one - but perhaps more importantly, it's unsettling.
Gloria Swanson's Norma Desmond dominates the movie, as she very well should - I just feel so sorry for her when she's feeling the despair that she does. Remember, it was Hollywood that twisted her psyche - a place that never thinks twice about discarding what it doesn't need anymore. Swanson looks so lost and forlorn, and her voice is pitiful - she does such a wonderful job. William Holden is also very, very good - he's no hero, and actually uses this woman because she has money. He might have moments when he feels pity, but he's also responsible for giving her false hope to start with. Gillis is talented, but appears to have been broken down into a cynical jackal by the same Hollywood that has ruined Norma Desmond - the scripts of his that have met with success were mangled, and he's just crossed the threshold where he intends to write whatever rubbish producers or Desmond demand he write. Youthful idealist Betty Schaefer (Olsen giving us an out of place recognizable person amongst the grotesque monsters) is guiding this man back to the light, if it's not too late. All four actors were nominated for Oscars in their four different categories - and all four would lose.
Every scene in Sunset Boulevard feels like it would be the best scene in any other film - it never steps down, spins it's wheels, or loses it's tempo. It's a fascinating indictment of the Hollywood system, and the way it promotes an image above and beyond substance and responsibility. Hollywood favours the way something sounds over depth, and repetition over new ideas. It has little regard for the trail of broken dreams and lost innocence which it leaves in it's wake. It rewards cynicism, and punishes intelligence. It rewards youth, and abhors age and physical imperfection. Some of this is understandable, considering that Hollywood is business orientated, and depends on the vague judgement of the population of the world at large - but that doesn't make it any more palatable or easy to accept. Older actresses and actors who have had plastic surgery and no longer look quite right bother me - they have the operations to look younger, but instead they look different. Their wrinkles might be gone - but the square features, pulled-tight eyelids and exaggerated features undo any "improvements" that might be made.
Most haunting are the eyes of Max (Erich von Stroheim ) as he watches the hypnotic Swanson glide down the stairs - the sadness. She was once a person who was loved for who she was - separate from the image which was created, and the legend. It's the sadness of grief, and Max is the one person who'll do anything to protect and shield what's left of Norma Desmond. That mixture of absolute sadness and wry amusement is such a strange combination, and no other film combines the two like Sunset Boulevard does. It stands as a testament to a generation of silent film stars that were suddenly forgotten when sound was introduced, and to every star that lost the approval of the public and industry. Stardom must be the most intoxicating substance on Earth, and it has destroyed plenty of lives - just as Hollywood has turned many a great artist into a cynical hack. Ironically, Billy Wilder made the necessary transitions to avoid becoming a hack, and was a rare talent that managed to avoid the many traps and pitfalls of the industry. This is one of his greatest films, and one of the greatest films ever made.
Sunset Boulevard - 1950
Directed by Billy Wilder
Written by Charles Brackett, Billy Wilder & D. M. Marshman Jr.
Starring William Holden, Gloria Swanson, Erich von Stroheim & Nancy Olson
It's as relevant today as it ever was. A strange mixture of reality and fable which cut so close to actuality that Gloria Swanson and Erich von Stroheim were almost playing themselves - albeit horrifically twisted versions in this Hollywood horror story. Cecil B. DeMille, Buster Keaton, Hedda Hopper and others did play themselves. To this very day, there are those in the industry that sell themselves out for the chance to play a lucrative part in the Hollywood dream, and there are still actresses who become enchanted with fame - only to be discarded when their youthful looks and vigour fade, soon replaced by a never-ending supply of sweet young beauties. What I love most about this film though, is how it makes me feel two completely contradictory emotions - I sadly pity and want to soothe the deluded and desperate Norma Desmond, and at the same time I angrily despise her psychological need for continued fame and youth, and her delusional belief that she's still living the years she left behind so long ago.
Struggling screenwriter Joe Gillis (William Holden) - a wry cynic who is narrating his own story from beyond the grave - is fleeing the men attempting to repossess his much needed car when he happens to find himself down the driveway of an old, decrepit mansion. A butler, Max Von Mayerling (Erich von Stroheim) eagerly invites him in, and he meets Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson) who has mistaken him for the man summoned to assist in the burial of her pet chimpanzee. Gillis soon recognizes her as a long-forgotten star of silent movies, and sees Desmond's fervent desire to reinvigorate her career as kind of ridiculous - but she has money and is in need of a writer. He agrees to work on her screenplay, and the two become entangled. The faded star lavishes him with gifts and money - anything he wants, but Gillis finds himself confronted with someone obviously not on great terms with reality. When the fact that she's no longer a great star starts to break her, he starts to slip away to co-write with young writer Betty Schaefer (Nancy Olson) - when suicide attempts, pleading and demanding no longer work, Desmond lashes out in anger, after which she crosses over completely into her fantasy world.
There has been so much said about Sunset Boulevard that it would just feel repetitive to grind out all the same old facts. All that's left to really say is what it means to me personally - Billy Wilder is a filmmaker whose films I either absolutely love (Double Indemnity, Witness For the Prosecution) or find particularly overrated (Some Like it Hot, The Seven Year Itch). It seems that it's his humour which I don't connect with, whereas every other part of what he does I find particularly attractive - but I have to concede that there is a peculiarly dark strain of comedy which exits in this film all the same. All of the sardonic comments from Gillis, and all of the times Norma Desmond says or does something which illustrates just how out of touch she is with reality - there's not one that doesn't hit in a very precise and perfect manner. There are also funny metaphorical moments, such as when Desmond is brushed by the microphone boom, and she angrily shoves it aside. The first time I watched this film, I was taken aback by the fact that there is not one thing wrong with it - every moment succeeds in doing what it was exactly intended to do. It has the unmistakable stamp of "masterpiece" to it.
John F. Seitz was the cinematographer who once again worked his noir magic on this film, and as he had with Wilder films such as Five Graves to Cairo, Double Indemnity and The Lost Weekend he'd be nominated for an Oscar for his work. He'd never win, despite being nominated 7 times (4 of those being Billy Wilder films.) Wilder and Seitz would usually disturb every speck of dust on the set before filming indoor segments of the film, creating a tomb-like, old and creepy atmosphere for Desmond's home. Also interesting is the pool shot at the beginning, where the audiences sees the body of Gillis from deep down inside the swimming pool he's floating in. The camera was actually looking down into a mirror, bringing us the view we get. Also, of course, there are shadowy shots - I particularly like our first obstructed view of the delusional, housebound star, not only behind prison-like shaded bars, but wearing sunglasses - secreted so far into that lair of hers that she hardly seems to exist. Right from the very first shot, there's invention here that feels fresh despite being nearly 75 years old. Sunset Boulevard is a visually fun film, and one that's very astute in guiding the viewer in an unambiguous, exact manner.
Sunset Boulevard's score is a revelation. Once you start to consciously hear the tango, and then pick out the moments where a saxophone lets out strains of bebop, you also gain a conscious understanding of what composer Franz Waxman is doing with this famous film score. Obviously Gillis is the hip younger writer, the jazz as opposed to the tango which Norma Desmond has her young prey dancing to. It's a wonderful combination you can hear, which often combines into crashing waves of intensity and insanity. Waxman's score would be ranked at #16 on the American Film Institute's list of the best 25 film scores of all time. He'd also win an Oscar and Golden Globe for it. Older film scores often feel a little too overbearing for my tastes, but I feel like this one is really cool in the way it underscores not only the emotion of the moment, but the clash of characters and their psychological substance. It's a clever score, and also a very powerful and well-written one - but perhaps more importantly, it's unsettling.
Gloria Swanson's Norma Desmond dominates the movie, as she very well should - I just feel so sorry for her when she's feeling the despair that she does. Remember, it was Hollywood that twisted her psyche - a place that never thinks twice about discarding what it doesn't need anymore. Swanson looks so lost and forlorn, and her voice is pitiful - she does such a wonderful job. William Holden is also very, very good - he's no hero, and actually uses this woman because she has money. He might have moments when he feels pity, but he's also responsible for giving her false hope to start with. Gillis is talented, but appears to have been broken down into a cynical jackal by the same Hollywood that has ruined Norma Desmond - the scripts of his that have met with success were mangled, and he's just crossed the threshold where he intends to write whatever rubbish producers or Desmond demand he write. Youthful idealist Betty Schaefer (Olsen giving us an out of place recognizable person amongst the grotesque monsters) is guiding this man back to the light, if it's not too late. All four actors were nominated for Oscars in their four different categories - and all four would lose.
Every scene in Sunset Boulevard feels like it would be the best scene in any other film - it never steps down, spins it's wheels, or loses it's tempo. It's a fascinating indictment of the Hollywood system, and the way it promotes an image above and beyond substance and responsibility. Hollywood favours the way something sounds over depth, and repetition over new ideas. It has little regard for the trail of broken dreams and lost innocence which it leaves in it's wake. It rewards cynicism, and punishes intelligence. It rewards youth, and abhors age and physical imperfection. Some of this is understandable, considering that Hollywood is business orientated, and depends on the vague judgement of the population of the world at large - but that doesn't make it any more palatable or easy to accept. Older actresses and actors who have had plastic surgery and no longer look quite right bother me - they have the operations to look younger, but instead they look different. Their wrinkles might be gone - but the square features, pulled-tight eyelids and exaggerated features undo any "improvements" that might be made.
Most haunting are the eyes of Max (Erich von Stroheim ) as he watches the hypnotic Swanson glide down the stairs - the sadness. She was once a person who was loved for who she was - separate from the image which was created, and the legend. It's the sadness of grief, and Max is the one person who'll do anything to protect and shield what's left of Norma Desmond. That mixture of absolute sadness and wry amusement is such a strange combination, and no other film combines the two like Sunset Boulevard does. It stands as a testament to a generation of silent film stars that were suddenly forgotten when sound was introduced, and to every star that lost the approval of the public and industry. Stardom must be the most intoxicating substance on Earth, and it has destroyed plenty of lives - just as Hollywood has turned many a great artist into a cynical hack. Ironically, Billy Wilder made the necessary transitions to avoid becoming a hack, and was a rare talent that managed to avoid the many traps and pitfalls of the industry. This is one of his greatest films, and one of the greatest films ever made.