Screenplay by Charles Brackett, Billy Wilder, and D.M. Marshman Jr.; Directed by Billy Wilder; Cinematography by John F. Seitz; Edited by Arthur P. Schmidt; Complete Credits. 110 min. 1950.
I already mentioned Sunset Boulevard in a post about point of view highlighting the film's effective use of voice-over, which not only gives us the protagonist's perspective, but also provides exposition and any other information necessary to make the story intelligible as it goes along. When I wrote about Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, I proposed it as a case in which a film exploited voice-over perfectly, but whereas Sunshine's Joel Barish is rambling and pathetic, Sunset's Joe Gillis is structured and authoritative. Admittedly, Joe’s voice-over is more stylized – people don’t really talk that way – but there’s a good explanation for such well-constructed monologues: he’s a writer.
Hollywood, 1950. Joe Gillis (William Holden) is a screenwriter with no money, hammering out short stories in a rented room, and he’s also behind on his car payments. Really behind. The company sends two men to give him a clear message: pay up or we take the car. Joe stalls them with some smooth lying and then heads out to dig up the 300 bucks he owes them. His best friend Artie Green (Jack Webb) can only give him 20. His agent thinks not having independent transportation means – and an empty stomach - will do Joe’s writing some good. Mr. Sheldrake (Fred Clark), the only movie producer Joe is still friendly with, doesn’t have any work to give him. To add insult to injury, almost everyone, including a bright young woman from the reader department named Betty Schaefer (Nancy Olson), seems to be telling Gillis that his ideas are stale.
Contemplating his defeat and inevitable return to his former desk job in Dayton, Ohio, Joe pauses at a red light on Sunset Blvd. - with the auto company collectors sitting in a car on the other side of the intersection. Joe’s proximity doesn’t go unnoticed. The light changes to green: he speeds down Sunset and makes a sharp turn off the road into a deserted driveway and gets a nice flat tire. He stashes the car and heads up to the house to ask if he can use the phone. And what a house – haunted mansion more like. He’s about to find out that it belongs to Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson), former queen of the silent screen. The only other person in the huge place is her butler Max (Erich von Stroheim). You’d be hard put to decide which of them is more eccentric: the deluded ex-star or her chillingly devoted servant. Joe doesn’t know it yet, but he’s walking right into a trap.
Given the two previous paragraphs, you would think the movie opened with Joe sitting at his typewriter, but the film begins at the story’s end – with Joe floating in Norma’s swimming pool, photographers eagerly snapping his picture. Then we go back in time to Joe in his apartment. This beginning changes the driving question from: “what will happen to Joe?” to “how did this happen to Joe?” Since we know he’s doomed from the start, it gives the film a different tone. I could go on and on dissecting every scene – the film is filled with so many great touches and little twists – but I’ll try to stay focused.
Take the scene where Joe pitches his tired idea for a script to Sheldrake (starts at 5:16). Pay attention to a number of things: Joe pitches the project without looking Sheldrake in the eye – he speaks confidently, but we know that he doesn't have much faith in the idea. Joe naturally moves around the room until he seems to be standing at a random spot, but it's not random at all, since it places him out of Betty's line of vision when she walks in the room. That way, she blunders into saying exactly what she thinks of his synopsis. The subsequent exchange between them isn't just to bring forward the classic argument over quality in entertainment, but the script works in some literary references to show that Joe has an education. And, of course, the script sets up the storyline with Betty, which will become significant later on. (Function and content working together.)
Since so much of the plot revolves around Norma manipulating Joe, it’s easy to forget Max and what a tragic figure he is: once a great Hollywood director, now reduced to being Norma’s butler. Worse than that – he’s also one of her ex-husbands. But devotion has so warped him that he’s willing to hang on at any price. Notice that he always calls her Miss Desmond as though they’ve always been mistress and servant. The only time he calls her Norma is in the final scene when he’s “directing” her down the staircase and the irony is wrenching. It’s important to remember that he doesn’t have to be her servant, he chooses to be.
It’s also important to remember that Norma is rich enough to keep up the house and it’s a sign of her depression that she doesn’t, however well-dressed and groomed she is. She’s also rich enough to keep more than one servant, which is a sign of her reclusiveness, however flamboyant her personality is. She’s both overbearing and ragingly insecure, a lethal combination, but they show how Max isn’t the only one complicit in her neurotic behavior. Joe allows himself to be manipulated and by the time he breaks free, it’s already too late.
There are so many other things to mention: Max telling Joe not to run upstairs after he hears about Norma’s suicide attempt – so the musicians won’t understand what’s happened; Norma’s final lines, being too happy to go on with her scene, etc.; Cecil B. DeMille playing himself in a wonderful cameo; and, of course, Joe's character (probably my favorite performance by William Holden), who manages to be heartbreaking without being pathetic. The film is an intense experience – no question – I don't feel like watching it every day, but it's the kind of film that seems new every time you see it. As specific as the timeframe is, the film doesn't seem dated at all.
Though what I'm about to say sounds like blasphemy, I'll say it anyway: Sunset Boulevard is perfect material for a remake. But I would update the timeframe to the present and I would switch the gender of Joe and Norma to keep it from being a simple rehash. There. I've said it loud and placed it on the internet where everyone can see it. If you see a remake of Sunset Boulevard in the near (or less near) future – you read it here first.
Next week… Bullets Over Broadway, shifting gears to comedy again, but this time with a showbiz spin.
I already mentioned Sunset Boulevard in a post about point of view highlighting the film's effective use of voice-over, which not only gives us the protagonist's perspective, but also provides exposition and any other information necessary to make the story intelligible as it goes along. When I wrote about Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, I proposed it as a case in which a film exploited voice-over perfectly, but whereas Sunshine's Joel Barish is rambling and pathetic, Sunset's Joe Gillis is structured and authoritative. Admittedly, Joe’s voice-over is more stylized – people don’t really talk that way – but there’s a good explanation for such well-constructed monologues: he’s a writer.
Hollywood, 1950. Joe Gillis (William Holden) is a screenwriter with no money, hammering out short stories in a rented room, and he’s also behind on his car payments. Really behind. The company sends two men to give him a clear message: pay up or we take the car. Joe stalls them with some smooth lying and then heads out to dig up the 300 bucks he owes them. His best friend Artie Green (Jack Webb) can only give him 20. His agent thinks not having independent transportation means – and an empty stomach - will do Joe’s writing some good. Mr. Sheldrake (Fred Clark), the only movie producer Joe is still friendly with, doesn’t have any work to give him. To add insult to injury, almost everyone, including a bright young woman from the reader department named Betty Schaefer (Nancy Olson), seems to be telling Gillis that his ideas are stale.
Contemplating his defeat and inevitable return to his former desk job in Dayton, Ohio, Joe pauses at a red light on Sunset Blvd. - with the auto company collectors sitting in a car on the other side of the intersection. Joe’s proximity doesn’t go unnoticed. The light changes to green: he speeds down Sunset and makes a sharp turn off the road into a deserted driveway and gets a nice flat tire. He stashes the car and heads up to the house to ask if he can use the phone. And what a house – haunted mansion more like. He’s about to find out that it belongs to Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson), former queen of the silent screen. The only other person in the huge place is her butler Max (Erich von Stroheim). You’d be hard put to decide which of them is more eccentric: the deluded ex-star or her chillingly devoted servant. Joe doesn’t know it yet, but he’s walking right into a trap.
Given the two previous paragraphs, you would think the movie opened with Joe sitting at his typewriter, but the film begins at the story’s end – with Joe floating in Norma’s swimming pool, photographers eagerly snapping his picture. Then we go back in time to Joe in his apartment. This beginning changes the driving question from: “what will happen to Joe?” to “how did this happen to Joe?” Since we know he’s doomed from the start, it gives the film a different tone. I could go on and on dissecting every scene – the film is filled with so many great touches and little twists – but I’ll try to stay focused.
Take the scene where Joe pitches his tired idea for a script to Sheldrake (starts at 5:16). Pay attention to a number of things: Joe pitches the project without looking Sheldrake in the eye – he speaks confidently, but we know that he doesn't have much faith in the idea. Joe naturally moves around the room until he seems to be standing at a random spot, but it's not random at all, since it places him out of Betty's line of vision when she walks in the room. That way, she blunders into saying exactly what she thinks of his synopsis. The subsequent exchange between them isn't just to bring forward the classic argument over quality in entertainment, but the script works in some literary references to show that Joe has an education. And, of course, the script sets up the storyline with Betty, which will become significant later on. (Function and content working together.)
Since so much of the plot revolves around Norma manipulating Joe, it’s easy to forget Max and what a tragic figure he is: once a great Hollywood director, now reduced to being Norma’s butler. Worse than that – he’s also one of her ex-husbands. But devotion has so warped him that he’s willing to hang on at any price. Notice that he always calls her Miss Desmond as though they’ve always been mistress and servant. The only time he calls her Norma is in the final scene when he’s “directing” her down the staircase and the irony is wrenching. It’s important to remember that he doesn’t have to be her servant, he chooses to be.
It’s also important to remember that Norma is rich enough to keep up the house and it’s a sign of her depression that she doesn’t, however well-dressed and groomed she is. She’s also rich enough to keep more than one servant, which is a sign of her reclusiveness, however flamboyant her personality is. She’s both overbearing and ragingly insecure, a lethal combination, but they show how Max isn’t the only one complicit in her neurotic behavior. Joe allows himself to be manipulated and by the time he breaks free, it’s already too late.
There are so many other things to mention: Max telling Joe not to run upstairs after he hears about Norma’s suicide attempt – so the musicians won’t understand what’s happened; Norma’s final lines, being too happy to go on with her scene, etc.; Cecil B. DeMille playing himself in a wonderful cameo; and, of course, Joe's character (probably my favorite performance by William Holden), who manages to be heartbreaking without being pathetic. The film is an intense experience – no question – I don't feel like watching it every day, but it's the kind of film that seems new every time you see it. As specific as the timeframe is, the film doesn't seem dated at all.
Though what I'm about to say sounds like blasphemy, I'll say it anyway: Sunset Boulevard is perfect material for a remake. But I would update the timeframe to the present and I would switch the gender of Joe and Norma to keep it from being a simple rehash. There. I've said it loud and placed it on the internet where everyone can see it. If you see a remake of Sunset Boulevard in the near (or less near) future – you read it here first.
Next week… Bullets Over Broadway, shifting gears to comedy again, but this time with a showbiz spin.
2 comments:
Up to your usual, irresistible hi-jinks, I see.
Thanks, Kathleen. I didn't realize my hi-jinks were irresistible :)
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