Showing posts with label Billy Wilder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Billy Wilder. Show all posts

Saturday, 28 July 2012

Stalag 17 (1953)

Hilarious, heart-tugging! You'll laugh... you'll cry... you'll cheer William Holden in his great Academy Award role!

This incisive black comic drama by the great Billy Wilder (Double Indemnity - 1944, Sunset Boulevard - 1950, Some Like It Hot - 1959, The Apartment - 1960) is set in Stalag 17, a German prison-of-war camp in the winter of 1943, two years before the end of World War II.

The action opens in one of the prison huts, Barracks Four, little more than two lines of rough bunkbeds. A group of US airmen, all of equal military rank (sergeant), are helping two of their number, Manfredi and Johnson, to attempt an escape, using a tunnel that the men have helped construct under the perimeter fence. Almost as soon as the two escapees have left the hut, one prisoner, Sefton (William Holden), countering the general mood of optimism amongst the prisoners, argues that the escape attempt is unlikely to succeed and challenges the men to back their opinions by betting against him. Outraged (enraged?), most of the prisoners go ahead and place bets in support of the escapees but soon shots are heard and Sefton collects his not inconsiderable winnings.

An idea begins to seed itself through the minds of the prisoners, spreading like a modern viral meme. The Germans knew the exact time and place of the escape so they must somehow have learned details of the actual escape plan. Ruling out other options (uniformed German warders overhearing, mechanical listening devices) would leave only one logical explanation: a spy amongst their ranks, inside this very barrack, a hidden informer pretending to be one of them, feeding the Germans their most precious secrets. As the least popular person in the barrack, and as the person who profited most from the two escapees' deaths, the loaded barrel of guilt begins to turn towards J.J. Sefton.

At the centre of the film, the question of whether or not there is a hidden spy within the barrack, and if that spy is Sefton, creates an inherent tension driving the plot forward, and in its examination of what people are prepared to do to each other when the stakes are high, cleverly licences the film to explore to some very dark places. And in this case, with people's lives very much in the balance (and with a tip of the hat to Filmspotting's Adam Kempenaar, who loves a high stake), the stakes couldn't be much higher. What's more, according to Wikipedia, because of extensive re-writing of the script by Wilder and Blum, and the fact that, contrary to normal practice, the film was shot in chronological order, behind the scenes, even the cast members themselves "did not know the identity of the informant until the last three days of shooting", possibly adding to the tension on screen.

The film is by no means unremitting doom and gloom. Along the way, there are lighter moments. Among the supporting characters, the ongoing comic double act of the two barrack clowns, "Animal" Kasava (Robert Strauss) and Harry "Sugar Lips" Shapiro (Harvey Lembeck), who played the same roles in the stage play on which the film is based, are brilliantly written and impeccably played. Their repartee includes a ritualised, codified rhythmic use of language, developing localised echoic catch phrases, both English and German ("Raus! Raus! Raus!" and "At ease! At ease!", that strongly reminds me of the kind of thing my son, Matthew, and his friends amuse themselves with, riffing endlessly on phrases like "It's nacho cheese, I say it's nacho cheese. It's my cheese, my nacho cheese, bro, not yours, nacho cheese, no way, not your cheese. It's mine, not yours, nacho cheese." Clearly, Kasava and Shapiro's clowning around is not meaningless fun, but on the contrary, the only way they know of coping with the desperate situation they are in.

The cameraderie of Kasava and Shapiro even extends to the German warder, Sergeant Johann Sebastian Schulz (beautifully played by Sig Ruman), with whom at times they are very familiar, not to say dangerously cheeky. How meaningful, how deep, is this prisoner/warder cameraderie? Is Schulz an example of "the good German" of popular legend, subjugated, like the American prisoners, by Nazi cultists in high positions?

Another trope of prison tales, the question of sex (lack of) and enforced periods of same sex internment, is touched on cleverly and subtly. The Hollywood star, Betty Grable, she of the legendary legs, appears as an icon of female desirability. Along the way (without giving away specific plot spoilers), we see men dancing with men, and a distressingly graphic externalisation of desire, probably inspired by a key scene in Charlie Chaplin's The Goldrush (1925).

Turning away from a literal examination of the story to a kind of subtextual interpretation provides an interesting perspective on the United States of America, with the prison-of-war camp standing microscopically for the nation. If each barrack is like a state in the Union, an analogue of federal government support can be seen in the person of Marko the Mailman (William Pierson) who comes round to share bulletins, as well as in the egalitarian practice of time-sharing with the camp's only radio, the only source of outside news and music. There is even a system of sanctions against groups that transgress, by withholding or truncating time with the radio. Provision of a safety net of care for the severely disadvantaged can be seen in the way the character of Joey (Robinson Stone), the catastrophically shell-shocked unfortunate, is looked after by the men in various ways without thought of recompense or personal advantage.

I love the way that, through the conflict between Sefton and the other prisoners, Wilder manages to juxtapose the two key survival strategies available to the imprisoned US sergeants in Barrack Four, and metaphorically, to participants in the socio-political union of the USA itself. Sefton's strategy, essentially individualistic in nature, aims to maximise personal comforts wherever possible, using wealth (in the absence of money, taking the form mainly of cigarettes, the most common currency of barter in the camp) acquired from fellow prisoners via bets and other revenue-accruing activities. This wealth can then be used to gain special privileges from the German overseers, such as turning a blind eye to black market trading, and to gain material advantages such as bottles of alcohol, cigars and good quality food. Of course, acquiring wealth and privilege at the other prisoners' expense does not necessarily bring popularity. Sefton epitomises the selfish face of capitalism, profiteering, cynically exploiting the misfortunes of others for his own benefit. While Sefton is disliked and mistrusted, at the same time, his character provides much of the entertainment and comforts for the rest: speed races with gambling, a liquor bar, a girlie peep show. Could it be that Sefton stands for the entertainment industry, Hollywood, Wilder himself?

As Wilder re-worked the adultery theme of The Seven Year Itch (1955) to great effect in The Apartment (1960), so Stalag 17 (1953) is a second take on the theme of the flip side of the American ideal of rugged individualism: merciless self-interest, initiated in Ace in the Hole (1951), with Sefton a brother in spirit to Kirk Douglas's cynical newspaper hound, ruthlessly exploiting others to advance his own career.

The contrasting strategy, employed by almost all the other men in the barrack, is a kind of cooperative altruism, in its way, a collective socialism, mainly exemplified in their united efforts to support escape attempts and more generally in mutual protection from punishment by their captors, and in care for less abled people in their group. Interestingly, the cooperative approach taken by the majority, which I would imagine most if not all of us will perceive as the best and most moral approach, essentially aligns itself with socialist principles, and exposes the despicable hidden face of unbridled capitalism. This makes Wilder a highly subversive social commentator, causing American cinema-goers in the 1950s to side emotionally with a socio-political stance (socialism) that many would have (misguidedly, I would suggest) hated and feared, and in the main, continue to hate and fear. Respect for this achievement, Mr Wilder. You rock! (I'll bet Michael Moore loves this film, too.)

To conclude, love it or hate it, this is very much a Billy Wilder film: he co-wrote it, directed and produced. As for William Holden, although in other films I have often not really appreciated him, in this film he is really very good, so good that he got a well-deserved Best Actor Oscar.


  • Director: Billy Wilder
  • Writers: Screenplay by Edwin Blum and Billy Wilder, Original theatrical play by Donald Bevan and Edmund Trzcinski
  • Starring: William Holden, Don Taylor, Otto Preminger, Robert Strauss, Peter Graves, Neville Brand, Harvey Lembeck

Written in WriteRoom, formatted using HyperEdit, posted from my MacBook Pro

Monday, 5 September 2011

The Seven Year Itch (1955)

It TICKLES and TANTALIZES! - The funniest comedy since laughter began!

What would any normal guy give to be one-to-one with Marilyn Monroe? What are the chances? Wouldn't even a happily married man with a kid get the "seven year itch"?

It's summertime in Manhattan, and like many men, publishing editor Richard Sherman (Tom Ewell) sends his wife Helen (Evelyn Keyes) of seven years and young son Ricky (Butch Bernard) up north for a 2-week vacation in Maine, while he stays and works in the city. Back at his apartment that evening, awaiting a phone call from Helen, Richard determines to keep on the straight and narrow during this time: no cigarettes, no drinking, and settles down to work on the patio with a manuscript. But out of the blue, literally, he is almost killed by a falling flower pot accidentally dislodged by his new upstairs neighbour, a stunningly gorgeous blonde bombshell played by the wonderful Marilyn Monroe.

Against the dictates of his rational mind, Richard, mesmerised by his neighbour's beauty and overcome with desire, can't stop himself inviting her to his apartment, and Monroe's character is so ditzy (innocently silly and scatterbrained) that she seems to have no idea what objective Richard's instincts are driving him towards.

So, will Richard be able to withstand the range of temptations available to the married man left alone in the big city, and in particular, to any male neighbour of Monroe? How will Monroe's character respond?

This is pretty much a two-hander between Ewell and Monroe. Though creepy like a lizard at some points in the film in his lust for Monroe, overall, Ewell's performance is magnificent. A great deal of the script has Richard dialoguing with himself, which is quite an unnatural thing to do, highly stylized, and could have gone disastrously wrong. Ewell pulls it off pretty well though, so that it is mostly very acceptable. Richard is a bit of a Walter Mitty, highly imaginative, and a lot of the fun consists of his imaginings coming to life, and delighting or scaring him. Monroe plays her rather challenging ditzy role very well, simpering like a small excited girl in a grown woman's body, highly desirable in a sexual way, but not slutty, managing to stay pure and chaste in herself.

The lack of political correctness in this film goes well beyond current socially-sanctioned norms, with Wilder commenting on the audience's fascination with beauties like Monroe, for instance, in the way Richard's publishing house markets their books, pandering to our men's objectification of women as sex objects. It is this film that includes the justly famous scene where Monroe stands over the air vent in the white dress, innocently enjoying the cooling breeze that pushes the skirt of her dress up in such a revealing flutter. Talk about objectification: Monroe's character does not even merit a name, for pity's sake, being labelled "The Girl" in the credits.

The peeping Tom aspect of cinema audience's appetite to watch actresses like Monroe is clearly paralleled in Richard's relationship with Monroe. The fourth wall is even broken at one point, in the third reel, by Ewell referring explicitly by name to Marilyn Monroe. This makes the story quite a meta-experience, but also makes one feel quite queasy while watching, as you come to understand that this is the true subject or target of the film.

The element of psychology is included in the person of Dr. Brubaker (Oskar Homolka), the author of the manuscript that Richard is editing, and whose writing is used to introduce statistics about temptations for married men in the summer and the "seven year itch" in particular. Ewell externalises the conflicts within him in the form of an itch on his chest, near his heart (geddit?), and a nervous twitch in one of his thumbs (presumably with phallic connotation?).

Apparently, the film is based on a three-act play by George Axelrod. In Wikipedia's entry for this film (see link below), there is an interesting discussion of the restrictions put on the film, compared to the play, by the studio's adherence to the Hayes Code of the time.

Five years later, in "The Apartment" with Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine, Wilder revisited the temptations-of-summer-affairs-in-Manhattan scenario introduced in "The Seven Year Itch" and created a human drama of great warmth and darkness and resonance. This film, while interesting, and a great showcase for Monroe's talents, does not approach those heights.


  • Director: Billy Wilder
  • Writers: George Axelrod, Billy Wilder
  • Starring: Tom Ewell, Marilyn Monroe, Evelyn Keyes, Marguerite Chapman, Robert Strauss, Oscar Homolka, Sonny Tufts, Donald MacBride

Written in WriteRoom, formatted using HyperEdit, posted from my MacBook Pro



Saturday, 9 July 2011

The Apartment (1960)

Movie-wise, there has never been anything like it - laugh-wise, love-wise, or otherwise-wise!

The Apartment (1960) would make an interesting double bill with The Seven Year Itch, directed by Billy Wilder only five years earlier. Both films share the theme of affairs between married men and single women in New York City, including that crucial month or two in the summer when it seems many wives and children escaped the heat of the city on extended summer vacations, leaving married men to their own devices.

The themes are similar, but the story-telling is at a different level of expertise. The Seven Year Itch was a leery cartoonish comedy that winked at the temptations confronting married men, mixed with a meta-discussion of the impact of sex symbols such as Marilyn Monroe, and the somewhat disturbing excesses of male fandom. In The Apartment, Wilder has progressed to a dramatic comedy grounded in believable characters, with life-changing outcomes at stake, a film with real emotional heft.

Ambitious young company employee, C.C. Baxter, is one face among many in the serried ranks of wage slaves in the cavernous financial department of Consolidated Life. an insurance company on the nineteenth floor of a Manhattan skyscraper, and a long way back in the normal line of seniority for promotion to an office of his own, or even ultimately, a key to the executive washroom. But he has found a possible short-cut. As well as frequently working late as unpaid overtime, he finds that he can curry favour with a small stable of middle managers of less than impeccable morals, by loaning out his apartment to them for their clandestine trysts.

Trouble is, the popularity of this venue amongst the managers creates scheduling problems for Baxter, the late nights waiting for the all-clear take a toll on his health, and there is little time left for him to develop a private life. What's more, ironically, given his apparent monk-like existence, the loud carousing coming almost nightly, in his absence, from his apartment, and physical evidence of excessive alcohol consumption, has given Baxter the reputation with his neighbours, a stolid medical doctor and his wife, of being a philandering libertine. When he does manage to get time in the apartment himself, there is little for him to do but eat a solitary TV dinner and read himself to sleep.

The one ray of light in the desolation of Baxter's personal life is a sweet lovely young elevator operator, Miss Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine). On the day that Baxter's extended deprivations seem to be having the desired outcome, he asks her out on a date. But she already has an appointment to meet someone, a high ranking executive at the company, Jeff Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray), a middle-aged family man, with whom she had an extended summer romance, and for whom she is nursing a broken heart.

The real theme of The Apartment is that of loneliness, primarily the loneliness of young single people in a big city. Baxter's loneliness manifests itself in his misguided desire for acceptance in the workplace, and the mistaken perception that his stable of managers like him because of the favours he does for them. On the contrary, the indications are that they dislike being beholden to him: they call him "buddy boy" in a way that suggests he is far from their buddy; they pressure him to give them time in his apartment even when it is clearly very inconvenient for him; they even give his home address out to someone who wishes him harm. Miss Kubelik's loneliness manifests itself in the affair she has had with a married man. But perhaps this affair is not surprising: if young single eligible men like Baxter are busy climbing corporate ladders, where else can she find affection?

Fran Kubelik has aspects in common with the other women in the story, and aspects that differentiate her from them. Like them, she has had an affair with a married man, but unlike them, although heart-broken, her nature is still unspoilt. By comparison, the other women appear coarse, that is to say, coarsened by experience, by repeated disappointment and loss of hope. From the blowsy switchboard operator to the ditzy Monroe lookalike/soundalike in the bar, these women seem to given up looking for lasting love and happiness, and are settling for temporary kicks. Then there's the lonely wife of the jailed jockey, actively seeking out male company on New Year's Eve, like a forlorn reflection of the plight of married men in the summer. She seems to still love her husband, but just needs someone to hold for the night. Maybe these married men had flings with their secretaries, switchboard operators, etc, not because they were cynical thrill seekers, but because they too in their way were lonely.

As for Baxter's middle-aged middle managers, they are a disappointing lot: "happily" married men cynically using the apartment for assignations with long-term mistresses and one-night stands. When they mistakenly get the idea that Baxter has bedded Miss Kubelik, they respond as if it were a challenging sporting achievement. Jeff Sheldrake, Miss Kubelik's ex-lover, however, seems to be a different kind of person, ready to do the right thing for the love of his life. His character is the key to the question of whether a single woman like Fran Kubelik is likely to find happiness with a married man.

Jack Lemmon's performance as Baxter is exemplary. Technically, he is magnificent. Which actor was it who said the best advice he ever got was to do (physical) things quickly, lighting up a cigarette, packing something away, whatever. These sequences of actions may be unavoidable, but dramatically, they are dead time, and it's vital to move on as fast as possible to other more dramatic events. Lemmon exemplifies this skills in various bits of business in the apartment: getting a TV dinner ready, cooking spaghetti, etc. Fortunately, briskness of action fits in well with Baxter's rather frenetic character. This nervousness combines with his characteristic optimistic cheeriness, like a mask, which counterpoints nicely with his essential loneliness. Just the sound of him in the kitchen, humming operatic snatches in a kind of desperately cheery way (according to Wikipedia improvised by Lemmon), are very poignant. The business with the tennis racket too is very good. It makes the otherwise mundane cooking process unusual and interesting to watch. It adds a slightly creative, kooky angle to Baxter's character. It's a good illustration of the kind of makeshift rough-and-ready domesticity of the single male in the kitchen.

Shirley MacLaine is wonderful in the role of Miss Kubelik, combining the unthreatening approachability of the girl-next-door with an adorable sunny sweetness, cuteness and specialness, so that the women in the audience will identify with her and want the best for her, and the men, identifying with Baxter, will want to be with her. MacMurray is fine as Sheldrake. There are some excellent supporting actors, including Dr Dreyfuss (Jack Kruschen) and Mrs Dreyfuss (Naomi Stevens), the switchboard operator, and especially, the jockey's wife.

In short, The Apartment is an exceptional dramatic comedy with great story, script, characters, and performances.


  • Director: Billy Wilder
  • Writers: Billy Wilder, IAL Diamond
  • Starring: Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine, Fred MacMurray, Ray Walston, Jack Kruschen, David Lewis, Joan Shawlee, Naomi Stevens, Edie Adams, Hope Holiday

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Saturday, 30 April 2011

The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970)

My private life is my own affair

In The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, an original story by Billy Wilder and co-writer, I. A. L. Diamond, the filmmakers slyly play with the familiar tropes of the great fictional detective and audience expectations, fashioning a tale at once classical in plot and characters but contemporary in vision.

The film kicks off with a very smart temporal bookend, set in a bank vault 50 years after the main action, in which a dust-covered, bound, sealed chest of Sherlock Holmes memorabilia belonging to Dr Watson is opened and, piece by piece, the contents revealed. First, the audience is reminded of the familiar elements of Sherlock Holmes' life - the deerstalker hat, the meerschaum pipe, the magnifying glass, the door number 221B, and so on. Second, a tantalising puzzle of novel or less familiar elements is introduced: a musical score entitled "for Ilse van H. Sherlock Holmes, comp.", a gold pocket watch containing the photograph of an attractive young woman, a ring fronted with the initials "SH" hiding a miniature magnetic compass, a medical syringe, a snow globe featuring a bust of Queen Victoria, and a sheaf of papers entitled "To my heirs", from which a ghostly Dr Watson narrates. After mentioning the 60 or so published accounts of Sherlock Holmes' cases, he continues, "But there were other adventures which, for reasons of discretion, I have decided to withhold from the public until this much later date. They involve matters of a delicate and sometimes scandalous nature, as will shortly become apparent…".

The story switches back 50 years to Holmes (Robert Stephens) and Watson (Colin Blakely) returning to their shared Baker Street flat, and to an immediate puncturing of some less modern aspects (the habit of wearing a cloak and deerstalker hat) of the familiar Sherlock Holmes stereotype, and the reinforcing of some other ostensibly more modernistic elements (the interest in music, the use of recreational drugs), with Holmes waxing irate at the public's inaccurate image of him, foisted on him by Watson's use of poetic licence when reporting his "simple exercises in logic" and the publisher's erroneous illustrations. Holmes also protests that Watson has falsely characterised him as a misogynist - he does not dislike women, merely mistrusts them - thereby introducing another of the more modernistic themes of the film: Holmes's sexuality.

Nowadays, if two unmarried men share a flat and one writes consistently glowing reports of the other's exploits, people might reasonably wonder about the nature of their personal relationship. Wikipedia reports that "Holmes is not known to have had any relations with women" whereas Watson was married in some stories. In a minor plot thread involving an ageing Russian prima ballerina (Tamara Toumanova) on the point of retirement, the script writers have some fun playing with the notion that Holmes might have been gay. Holmes is summoned to the side of the ballerina, and only manages to avoid a proposal to father her first child, in exchange for a precious Stradivarius violin, by pretending to be in a relationship with Dr Watson. Watson's conventional panic about what people will think of him highlights Holmes' amused and urbane response, adding to his status as a man socially, as well as intellectually, ahead of his time.

Now into the film comes a damsel in distress, Gabrielle Valladon (Geneviève Page), a beautiful woman with a foreign accent and a missing husband, and the story takes on more of the elements of a standard Sherlock Holmes mystery, including cages of canaries, disappearing circus midgets, monks sworn to silence, odd goings-on in the ruins of a Scottish castle and even sightings of a Loch Ness monster.

The scriptwriters continue to have fun with Holmes' sex life, allowing him to provide a rationale for his distrust of women, and placing him in various interesting juxtapositions - and let's be honest, temptations - with his new client, Valladon, including full-on nudity and the semblance of domestic married bliss. Early on, at the Baker Street flat, for example, Valladon, mentally confused after a recent near drowning and apparently thinking herself in her own home and mistaking Holmes for her husband, wanders around unashamedly in a state of undress and attempts to embrace him. Later on, to mask their true identities, Holmes and Valladon pretend to be a married couple, with Watson as their valet, leading to interesting developments in the bedroom.

In any case, by the end of the film, the significance of the items pulled out of Dr Watson's chest should be quite clear and questions about Holmes' choice of relationships feel satisfactorily resolved.

Turning to performances: as the great consulting detective, Robert Stephens, his features suitably angular, is really pretty convincing. With voice and body language, he conveys a background of sufficient social and educational privilege and the required intellectual arrogance, and with just a hint of arch campness, introduces the shadow of a doubt. Colin Blakely plays Watson very conventionally, as is right, to emphasise Holmes' uniqueness; Geneviève Page is just right as Holmes' client, lovely and loveable; and Christopher Lee is very sinister as Mycroft. Of the supporting actors, Irene Handl gives a wonderful performance as Mrs Hudson, Holmes' landlady.

This film would make a good double bill with John Huston's classic The Maltese Falcon (1939).


  • Director: Billy Wilder
  • Writers: I. A. L. Diamond, Billy Wilder
  • Starring: Robert Stephens, Geneviève Page, Colin Blakely, Christopher Lee, Irene Handl, Clive Revill, Tamara Toumanova, Stanley Holloway

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Amendments: Added ranking image.