Review of Sunset Boulevard

Of all the crimes that Hollywood could be accused of, its treatment of silent films is perhaps the worst. During the first twenty years, thousands upon thousands of films were made annually. In 1909 alone, Mary Pickford starred in over fifty films. This created a massive back catalog. There was, however, one problem: with the huge output of new films each year, early Hollywood saw little value in replaying last year’s fare.

There were countless warehouses in Los Angeles with reel tins stacked to the ceiling. In the sweltering heat, miles of film stock would often spontaneously combust due to the silver nitrate in them. Sometimes it wasn’t so accidental: studios would destroy decades’ worth of irreplaceable art to make room for copies of the newest talkie. Of all the silent films that were produced, between 80% and 90% have been lost or destroyed.

Silent film actors weren’t treated much better.

Once seen as Hollywood’s royalty, most of the Golden Era’s greats could not make the transition to talking films. Clara Bow, the original “It” girl, lost her considerable fanbase when they finally heard her lower class Brooklyn accent. Mabel Normand found that despite being the female Charlie Chaplin, her inability to project her voice dimmed her performances. Pola Negri, a vamp once lusted after by millions, met a cold reception with her thick Polish accent.

These stars were but a few that saw the door of opportunity slam in their face with the advent of talkies. The reason for their failure may not be apparent at first. This is often due to the misconception that silent films were simply films without sound. In reality, however, they were entirely different art-forms which emphasized different aspects of an actor’s repetoire. The necessity of extremely expressive faces became nearly comical when an actor could simply say what was going on in a character’s mind. For many, this drastic shift turned the paradigm of acting upside-down: what was a strength yesterday was now a glaring weakness today.

It was precisely this abandonment, this sense of disenfranchisement, that lies at the heart of Sunset Boulevard. The film opens with a narration from Joe Gillis (William Holden), a screenplay hack with a few B titles to his name. We first meet Joe in an upward perspective shot as he’s floating face down in a swimming pool with two bullets in his back. Detectives and newspaper photographers look on.

Even Joe admits that this was would be a fairly unremarkable event in LA, where the good old days never were. But this murder is unique in that happened in a rundown mansion on Sunset Blvd. owned by the once-great Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson). This was something that would make headlines.

Although he is the first to be introduced, Joe really isn’t the focus of the movie, merely its catalyst. It’s Norma Desmond, frozen in a single frame of her past glory, that holds this momentary world together. She bides her time, working on a screenplay that she believes will usher her name back into the spotlight. Joe is brought in to help edit it, although he quickly finds out that it’s futile: the writing is train wreck and Norma won’t stand to see a single word changed. She was, after all, an international star. Joe attempts to tell her that the script needs more dialog, but to no avail:

“There was a time when this business had the eyes of the whole wide world. But that wasn’t enough. Oh, no! They wanted the ears of the world, too. So they opened their big mouths, and out came talk, talk, talk!”

But so long as she continues to lavish clothes, jewelry, and attention, Joe is willing to maintain the illusion. Part of this small world is Max von Mayerling (Max von Stroheim), a servant who seems just as intent as Norma in keeping her fantasy. Not surprisingly, this convenient business arrangement begins to have more intimate overtones on Norma’s part. Joe is then torn between a nice gig and an evermore controlling woman.

The stakes are raised when the present reality of life slowly begins to intrudes on Norma. Joe meets Betty Shaefer (Nancy Olson), a fellow writer, and collaborates with her on a real script. The situation further mirrors Norma’s world when Joe and Betty begin to have an affair. This self-reflective triangle of characters is an effective comparison between different realities.

In the end, we find out just what it takes to maintain Norma’s reality.

If it were just that, Sunset Boulevard would be a fairly entertaining movie and little else. But this idea of what is reality in such a place as Hollywood was taken another step with director Billy Wilder. It wasn’t enough for a movie to tell a story, it had to be part of the story.

There are a number of uncomfortable parallels in Sunset Boulevard with the reality of Hollywood. During preproduction, Wilder wanted to cast an actress who not only would play a former silent star, but in reality was one. He approached a number of actresses without any luck. Mae West thought herself too young at 57 to play the part. Mary Pickford stared at Wilder horrified when he described the story; she believed that the movie would tarnish her wholesome image. Pola Negri reportedly threw a fit at the thought of being portrayed as a has-been. Her accent didn’t help matters, either.

Finally, they found a star willing to take the risk: Gloria Swanson. This almost fell through also when Paramount requested a screen test from her. After having done many films with Paramount, Swanson thought it insulting. Her friend, realizing the potential of the role, threatened to shoot her if she didn’t swallow her pride. The rest is history.

All the photos that Norma Desmond had of herself in the house were publicity stills during the height of Swanson’s career. The movie that Norma screens for Joe was a clip from a movie that Swanson had starred in, Queen Kelly (1929). The director of that movie? None other than the servant, Max. When he states that there were three promising directors in the early days of Hollywood: D.W. Griffith, Cecil B. De Mille, and Max von Mayerling, it wasn’t far from the truth. Max was in fact one of the most prominent directors alongside Griffith and De Mille. Much like in the movie, Max had been reduced over time to starring in bit roles where he played stereotypical Nazi characters and butlers.

When Norma visits Cecil B. De Mille on his Paramount set, De Mille was indeed filming for a new movie of his: Samson and Delilah. All of the actors and crew were there to film a scene. When De Mille calls Norma “young fellow,” this was a reference to the pet name that he had for Swanson back when he directed her.

Norma’s friends, “the waxworks,” were all actors of the silent era: Buster Keaton, H.B. Warner, and Anna Nilsson. All of the industry people referred to in the movie either existed or were alive at the time.

Not surprisingly, all of these references went over like a fart in church with industry icons. During a preview of Sunset Boulevard in Paramount studios, legendary producer Louis B. Mayer screamed that Wilder should be tarred, feathered, and whipped for sullying Paramount’s “reputation.” Wilder’s response to Mayer? “Fuck you.”

Mayer’s reaction was understandable. It was an embarrassing blemish on the history of Hollywood. In a sense, it accurately reflected the nature of this industry: you’re only as good as your last movie. Those that Tinseltown adores one day will be forgotten the next. The fate of many of its stars was best described by Joe as he observed Norma:

“Poor devil, still waving proudly to a parade which had long since passed her by.”

What was lost in those studio warehouses was more than just movies, it was an entire era of the silver screen. Its stars and scandals are mostly lost to us, now. Thus, Billy Wilder’s final touch on Sunset Boulevard is perhaps his most poignant: it was the last movie to ever be filmed on silver nitrate.