Film: “Sunset Boulevard (1949)directed by Billy Wilder

In 1950, as Billy Wilder’s “Sunset Boulevard” was about to be released, Paramount arranged a private screening for Hollywood’s various studio heads and specially invited guests. Louis B. Mayer berated Wilder before the crowd of celebrities, saying, "You have disgraced the industry that made and fed you! You should be tarred and feathered and run out of Hollywood!" According to one source, Wilder then strode to the podium and uttered an eloquent response: “F*ck you.”

Seventy five years later, the world has come around to Wilder’s point of view: in 1989, “Sunset Boulevard” was included in the first group of films selected for preservation in the National Film Registry. In 1999, “Sunset” was turned into a popular Broadway musical by Andrew Lloyd Weber currently in revival at the St James Theater.

However, the best way to appreciate it remains the way I saw it yesterday: at New York’s Metrograph movie house on Ludlow Street.

Set in 1947 LA, “Sunset Boulevard” is told in flashback by a man whose corpse you see in the opening scene. Joe Gillis (William Holden), a down-and-out Hollywood screenwriter who can’t pay his rent, is being hounded by his creditors who want to impound his car because he can’t pay for that either. One day, trying to escape their clutches, Gillis races down Sunset and gets a flat tire. He turns into a mysterious looking mansion which he soon discovers is occupied by a now reclusive silent film star, Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson).

Desmond mistakes Gillis for the funeral director she is expecting. You see, her pet monkey has died and she has imperiously demanded nothing but the finest casket. When Gillis informs her he’s a writer, not the undertaker, Desmond gets an idea: she wants him to tinker with the film script she has written in the hope of returning to the movies. The script is an overwritten mess. Gillis sees an opportunity to make a quick buck and agrees.

This Faustian bargain is not as simple as it first appears: to complete the assignment, he is forced to move into Desmond’s gloomy mansion whose abode resembles Miss Haversham’s in “Great Expectations.” The butler Max (Erich von Stroheim) arranges for Gillis’ things to be brought over from his LA apartment. From then on Gillis becomes a prisoner of Desmond and her weird hermetic world. Gradually, Desmond becomes obsessed with Gillis and he reluctantly succumbs to her advances.

En route to the finale, we are treated to some of the most biting, brilliant lines in American cinema. When Gillis first meets Desmond, he recognizes her immediately, declaring: “You used to be big.” To which Desmond responds: “I AM big. It’s the pictures that got small.” Later she tells Gills, “We didn’t need dialogue back then. We had faces.”

The enduring success of this film lies in the chemistry between Swanson and Holden. Swanson, a mere 49 years old at the time of filming, was in on the joke: she wasn’t really an over-the-hill refugee from silents. In this film, she reveals her comic talents: to entertain Gillis one night, she imitates the twitchy strut of Charlie Chaplin’s Little Tramp.

Holden, still fairly new to the Hollywood scene (his two most notable films were “Golden Boy” in 1939 and “Our Town” in 1942), is spot-on as the hunky, tortured gigolo. It’s easy to see why Gillis, with his laid-back manly charm, is such a draw for both Desmond and for Betty (Nancy Olson), a screenwriting buddy and a more age-appropriate romantic interest.

Von Stroheim, as Desmond’s loyal butler Max, utters a line too often forgotten by movie fans: “Madam is the greatest performer in the world.” Other cast standouts include a youthful, antic Jack Webb, years before he became a sourpuss on “Dragnet.” Also featured in cameo roles are gossip columnist Hedda Hipper, actor Buster Keaton and the great director Cecil B DeMille who calls Desmond “young fella,” his nickname for Swanson IRL.

“Sunset Boulevard” was co-written by Wilder, Charles Brackett and D. M. Marshman Jr. Its rich, shadowy black-and-white cinematography was the work of John F. Seitz, and the decadence of Desmond's home was created by set designer Hans Dreier. The house itself was owned by a former wife by J. Paul Getty.

At one point in the film, Desmond tells Gillis, “Without me, there would be no Paramount Pictures.” And without movies like “Sunset Boulevard,” there would be no golden age of Hollywood over which to rhapsodize. Do yourself a favor one of these cold winter nights and stream this classic. After 75 years it’s still ready for its closeup, and your admiration.

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