Essay-- Todd Solondz Normalizes Deviancy: A Study in Sincerity

**Warning! This is a long ass wall of text. I won't be doing another Registry Review for a little bit, so I'm tiding you all over with this (even though only, like, 3 people actually read this). I wrote this essay about one of my favorite (if not just my flat out favorite) filmmakers for a cinema class. I've added subheads for easier reading.**

*******************ALSO SO MANY SPOILERS******************                                   

In his review of Palindromes, Roger Ebert says of Todd Solondz, “You walk out of one of his films feeling like you've just failed a class in ethics, and wondering if in this baffling world anyone ever passes”[1]. Viewers wanting to “pass” a Todd Solondz film will have a difficult time doing so, as he does not take on the opinionated, parental role of a filmmaker who has answers. In the broader context of the rest of his work, Ebert’s sentiment is representative of normal versus abnormal, or “us versus them”. Just like ethics, which is essentially the study of right and wrong, society’s perspective of normal and abnormal is often a false dichotomy until someone forces critical thought into the equation. A man who cannot grow up, as Abe cannot in Dark Horse, is mocked. A teacher coercing a student into acting out violent and racially charged sex fantasies in Storytelling is observed like a disturbing and fascinating anomaly. A pedophile, like Bill Maplewood, who can and will victimize children in Happiness, is seen as sub-human. How can he not be? To most of the world, there are the good and happy people, and then there is Bill Maplewood, Mr. Scott, or Dawn Wiener. To Solondz, this does not add up. The common trap that viewers (and sometimes critics) fall into is to think that Solondz views these characters, and the strange and sometimes disturbing situations they must navigate through, as novelties-- that he aims to probe the “dark underbelly” of humanity with scathing satire. Another misconception is that he enjoys skewering the flaws of society, the cultural “remainders”, and the outcasts. Solondz’ goals as a filmmaker break down into a few common characteristics. He aims to be both sincere and hyperbolic, but never derisive. Additionally, the comedy that he uses is to compliment the tragedy and act as subterfuge in order to garner in provocative questions unexpectedly. The comingling of opposites, such as comedy and tragedy, is consistent with the overall balance he instills in the narrative and visual aspects of his films, and this is a mirror of his philosophy of revelation through symmetry. Deviancy and abnormality is not a separate school of humanity, and not an anomaly. It is an integral part of the canon.

Comedic Style and Anti-Satire

            The function of satire is to point follies in humanity. The subgenre of “black comedy” often takes the route of making fun of its subjects rather than examining them, making itself a kind of folly and a target for satire as well. The aim of Todd Solondz is easily mistakable for this new, derisive form of comedy. However, taking a look at the style of his humor, and the context it is placed in, reveals a surprising softness than is readily visible. For starters, his jokes are remarkably uncomplicated. He warns young filmmakers that, “the danger is always being clever. Cleverness is a facility some of us have that we like to show off, to show off how smart we are. That’s a very dangerous kind of seduction”[2]. What makes his films comedic are often the moments of very simplistic exchanges. In Happiness, Bill Maplewood has an extremely awkward conversation with his son about what “cumming” is. The son cries because he feels like an outcast for not being able to ejaculate. Bill holds the weeping eleven-year-old boy and reassuringly tells him he is normal, and says, “Hey…You’ll cum. One day,” and gives him a loving tap on the arm. In the loose sequel to the film, Life During Wartime, Trish (formerly Trish Maplewood), tells her son, Timmy (Billy’s younger brother), about her date with Harvey Wiener. She excitedly tells him she’s in love, and says upon physical contact with him that she “got wet…all over”. Timmy later asks her if she is still wet. Solondz uses this device to incite laughter over the simultaneously deadpan and outlandish nature of these exchanges.

Conversely, he often writes dialogue that seems so exaggeratedly fitting for a character that it sometimes seems derisive, until the dramatic and complex nature of the situations are instilled in the scene, making it both humorous and tragic. When Mama Sunshine tells Aviva in Palindromes why she cares so much about children, she tells her the story of one her failures. She says, “Last year, our special daughter Nainika ran away and... she didn't even have any legs. She wanted to return to her birthplace in India. Poor child, she didn't even make it as far as India, Tennessee!” The audience laughs at her melodramatics, and the outrageous situation of a quadriplegic running away. She then tells Aviva that she was a child runaway, which is why she cares so much. Sobbing, she swears to Aviva, “All God’s children…So long as I’m here, I’m gonna do whatever it takes, come what may, to protect them”. Not only does the scene become incredibly emotional, but Mama Sunshine transforms from a caricature into a mirror of Aviva herself— lost, hopeful, and motherly. The over-the-top humor of her dialogue becomes endearing, rather than judgmental. It is this type of tragi-comedy that Solondz employs. He has never adopted satire as the term for his comedic style, saying of Palindromes, “There is a satirical thrust, but satire suggests the films have no emotional life. I feel it's reductive, in the same way as it's reductive to call me a cynical misanthrope”[3]. It is the emotional life Solondz speaks of that takes precedence over the cultural or political statements, or the harshness that characterizes black comedy. As for the topics being addressed, the comedy is used as a context for them, not to lambast them. The director intends for there to be a certain level of understanding and sympathy for the characters that must act in light of these prevalent social issues. He asserts that Palindromes, “doesn't function as agit-prop […] The hot-button issues wouldn't be meaningful if the film didn't have an emotional core, if it didn't provide some sort of consolation, some 'you are not alone-ness'”[4]. The portrayal of serious and divisive issues is to examine how someone directly affected by those issues will navigate through the many dilemmas that will result from them, not to necessarily take a stance on either side of the issue itself. This method is attained, often, through intensely engaging and sympathetic characters. 

Dark Horse is where this is the hardest to see. Abe is arguably Todd’s most unlikeable protagonist. In one of the film’s most comedic scenes, Abe goes off on a rant in front of his mother about the selfishness in humanity in a the most clichéd manor possible. He overdramatically laments that, “if there's any kindness or generosity, it only comes after being well-fed, or having good sex, or knowing that you weren't wiped out like all the other suckers on Wall Street!” His childishness and entitlement approaches parody, his hypocrisy becomes unbearable. Yet, as the film progresses, the insurmountable failures of his life begin to stack. He becomes incredibly sad, although still not entirely sympathetic. Solondz, attempts to win the audience’s favor for Abe, though, by including subtle promises of change. He begins a journey to become an adult, but because of his stunted maturity, he is woefully unable to forge a real connection with others. “He puts himself out there,” says Todd, “but he puts himself out there in a way that’s doomed”[5]. It becomes hard to see how he will ever change his life, despite his willingness to do so. As he nears an abrupt and unfair death, he comes to realize how he has failed himself, despite being so privileged. To Solondz, the film is, “kind of a death trip. It’s a guy who’s cornered and trapped and trying to find an escape”[6]. He is an adult child who cannot make sense of the resources at his disposal, trying to achieve success in the wrong way, time and time again. Additionally, the sympathy for the character can be credited to the casting of Jordan Gelber as Abe, whose performance and appearance provide the character with overwhelming pathos.

This isn't to say that Solondz has never approached the realm of satire. He just hasn't utilized it in the common or modern incarnations. Rather, he approaches it in layers, satirizing what has come to be known as satire itself. His self-evaluative response to the claims that his work his either satirical or callous is the basis of Storytelling. In it, he divides the film into “Fiction” and “Nonfiction”, the latter containing the most personal and reflexive examination of his own methods. In a review from Nation, Stuart Klawans observes that, “Even the most not-for-profit filmmaker--a documentarian, a socially responsible type--may turn a corner in his soul and discover a beast in the path, gnawing on the bones of an interview subject”[7]. Todd Solondz, certainly not-for-profit, and a sort of fictional documentarian, writes himself in the role of documentary-filmmaker Toby Oxman, played by Paul Giamatti. In a scene with Toby’s editor, she tells him, “You’re showing how superior you are to your subject”. He passionately responds that he loves them, which she doesn’t believe. His unclear filmmaking vision makes it hard for the audience to believe him, either. Later, he has put together an incredibly pretentious and dry work with both music and narration parodying American Beauty. His editor likes it, calling it “provocative”. He frustratingly says that, “It should be somewhat entertaining!” The editor represents the cold and cynical class of critics whose tendency it is to overlook the sincerity of Solondz’ work and characterize it as derisive due its farcical tone. Solondz effectively refutes the belief that a more objective and high-brow tone will give the subjects dignity, as if maintaining a façade of professionalism will somehow make him more humble. Like Toby, he cannot deny any type of humor that will arise in various situations, good or bad. At the same time, Toby is criticized by Solondz, perhaps to stand as Todd’s admission of his own artistic flaws. His work has unknowingly exploited the Livingston family, particularly the son, Scooby. The irony, though, is that in the reality of the film, Scooby is given a very personal and sympathetic treatment by Solondz. His naïveté is seen as endearing, and he deals with very real struggles and ostracizing by his peers (he loses friends when it gets out that he engaged in a homosexual encounter with a classmate). In Toby’s documentary, Scooby is portrayed only as a buffoon. The so-called “objective” piece that Toby produces is in fact devoid of empathy, while the story Todd creates in the film itself is emotional. In general, Todd’s films can be described as sincere, though not necessarily optimistic. However, as a filmmaker, he has claimed that “making any film is a great gesture of optimism”[8]. As is evident by the deadpan humor, and the outlandish yet deeply human and tormented state of his characters (or subjects, representations of specific walks of life), his films are emphatically not critical. They are sarcastic, perhaps, but only with an accompanying current of sincerity and lightness. The humor, tone, and visual style are comparable to what can be seen in traditional comedies. Furthermore, they are used as a device to initially incite comfort, but then to provoke. The jokes and “gags” function as pure comedy as well as subversion.

2. Parallels to Sitcoms and Rom-Coms as Subversion

            In a preface to an interview, Jessica Hundley describes Welcome to the Dollhouse as “discomforting realism”[9]. This is a bit overzealous. While there is an undercurrent of understood reality in the film (and the rest of Todd’s work), his tone is specifically over-the-top and quirky. Visually, they are almost always shot brightly and flatly, like a conventional romantic comedy. The cinematographer for Dark Horse, Andrij Parekh, told journalist Jon Silberg about the very simple shooting and lighting requirements, including the main use of only two kinds of lenses. He maintains that Solondz, “definitely cares about the camera and lighting, but his primary concern is the script and the actors, and he wants the images to have a very natural, straightforward look.” Silberg, himself, aptly states that, “there is a kind of deadpan quality to the director’s work that extravagant lighting or camera work could only interfere with”[10]. A major visual characteristic of Todd’s work is the frequency of non-cosmetic shots. There is a general absence of moody lighting, stylistic camera movement, or picturesque framing (although not exclusively. More complex cinematography is often a deliberate contrast to his established visual concept). Solondz has spoken about when he first began to arrive at this technique. When filming Welcome to the Dollhouse, he had originally planned one of the scenes where Brandon corners and threatens Dawn to take place in a dark and foreboding staircase. When unable to find a suitable location, he moved the scene outside, in front of a soccer game. He described the visual as, “a beautiful sunny day, children playing soccer having a lovely time, having fun. And it becomes a scene where it’s implicitly understood that the world doesn't care. The world goes about its wonderful business”[11]. Many describe film noir lighting as similar to a character in itself. If this is true, then visuals of Todd Solondz are deliberately uncharacteristic, to imply that the film never persuades bad things to happen, bad things simply occur within it. In addition to the shooting style, his films include many parallels to “feel good” movies, often to create an antithesis to them.

            In a very unorthodox fashion, Todd Solondz draws influences from thematic opposites to borrow their style. Surprisingly, he says, “The first movie I saw was Mary Poppins followed up shortly after that with The Sound of Music. I’m sure, I know, it had an impact on me. I loved the films as a child, and certainly I couldn't have come up with the Sunshine Singers in Palindromes without the Von Trapp family”[12]. The homages to light-hearted, optimistic genres are very prevalent in his films. Welcome to the Dollhouse responds to the popular genre of coming-of-age films with Dawn, whose faces constant disappointment, rather than growth, and is no better off than she was at the beginning of the film, although perhaps wiser. Todd’s intention for Dark Horse was to have a character seen in slacker comedies, describing them as “kind of cuddly cute”[13], but to show him struggling with that type of lifestyle instead of gleaning off of it. For a scene where Abe’s parents are watching Seinfeld¸ Solondz wrote original dialogue for Jason Alexander, Jerry Stiller, and Estelle Harris to record rather than buy the rights to the show. It was important to have that parallel. He explains, saying, “I saw this as kind of a counterpoint to the Jason Alexander character and his parents. […] the idea was that that’s the funny, comical version, and this is the counter-life”[14]. In addition to film and television parallels, there are frequently out of place and upbeat songs in the soundtracks to his films. Several times in Dark Horse¸ the original song “Who You Wanna Be” by Michael Kisur plays, in a light alternative rock style, the lyrics expressing self-discovery and happiness. Following the unsettling ending of Palindromes, the end credits play with a Christian pop song performed by the Sunshine Singers. There is a very strong effort on Solondz’ part to constantly go against what fits, through these antithetical stylistic choices. This is a preferred device of his, in order to channel the emotional appeal of comedy into a more confrontational and complex discussion.

To accomplish subversion, Solondz writes situations that alternate between comedic and serious, whether the latter is acting as tragic, foreboding, jarring, etc. In Happiness¸ Bill Maplewood has two candid father-son conversations. In the first, it is a humorous scene where “the talk”, more or less, is given. In the second, Billy sits horrified while his father tearfully and honestly confesses to the rape of his friend in detail. In Welcome to the Dollhouse¸ Dawn’s younger sister, Missy, is written as horribly obnoxious. Missy is doted on by her parents, while Dawn is ignored, transforming Missy into an unlikeable foil and a very relatable annoyance to anyone who has siblings. Missy is then kidnapped, shattering the stability of the family and ushering in dark implications of possible child abuse. This reverses the viewer’s opinion. Todd describes the shift as, “Just as you may fantasize that you want your little sister to be kidnapped or killed or something horrible, once the reality of that happens, however, it jolts you in a way that forces you to grow up. Therein lies the irony that this is the little girl that you--that probably everyone in the audience--had wished something terrible might happen to”[15]. Another, very striking scene, is when Dawn goes to the spot with Brandon so he can rape her. After a few moments of uncomfortable conversation, it becomes clear that neither knows what rape is. Solondz uses this frightening and disturbing context to create a lighthearted moment, saying, “I love the idea that this ‘rape’ becomes the moment of greatest tenderness. When she says, ‘I'm sorry for being such a cunt,’ the word cunt is transformed from the ugliest word in the dictionary to a beautiful word, or funny, in a way”[16]. This point is strengthened, as well, because it leads into the tentative friendship of Dawn and Brandon. In Storytelling, Scooby is set up in a context of buffoonery. He is very easy to laugh at, and given his dialogue (I’m not an idiot. I watch T.V.), Solondz wants him to be. Then, at the end, an audience is shown laughing at Scooby during a test screening of Toby’s documentary while he watches. He arrives home, humiliated, to see that his family has been killed. These scenes communicate a certain method of Solondz’, where a context is established and then cut through from the opposite tonal direction.       

Conventionally, a context is used as a vehicle for one consistent type of tone. Solondz is adamantly against tonal consistency, or that which results in viewer satisfaction saying “You walk out of the movie having made this identification and feeling so much better about yourself. There’s this great, fantastic, narcissistic high. But when you go to one of my movies, you’re not going to get that narcissistic high. I’m not there to pat you on the back. I bristle at any kind of complacency”[17]. In order to make this method convenient, the aforementioned fusion of comedy and tragedy, as well as constant opposing contexts and scenarios in his work allow for tonal and thematic reversals to occur with immediacy. There is an overwhelming presence of comparisons, parallels, and opposite extremes in his work.  

3. Symmetry

            In his review of Welcome to the Dollhouse, Roger Ebert reflects, “I can recall today with perfect accuracy the names and faces of11-year-olds who made my life miserable. If I met them today, so many years later, would I forgive and forget? Not a chance. I still hate them. Was I also cruel? Did I have my own victims? Strange, but I can’t remember”[18]. Dawn Wiener is best known as one of Todd Solondz’ most persecuted protagonists. In the film, she is treated relentlessly and unfairly, yet Todd does not shy away from showing ways in which she might deserve ridicule. When Dawn’s equally persecuted friend, Ralphie, phones the house during one of her bad moods, she loudly refuses to talk to him, saying “Hang it up, I don’t want to speak to that faggot!” and later that, “I hope he rots in hell”. Ralphie listens heartbroken on the other line. Later, she decides not to tell Missy that their mom won't be picking her up out of spite, a decision that leads to Missy’s kidnapping. In this manner, Dawn is set apart from typical coming-of-age heroes by being portrayed as a cog in the wheel of bullying, not solely a victim. This practice is best described by a friend of Solondz, Bruce Wagner, who says, “My feeling is that Todd Solondz has no goal in this life other than to express the symmetry of a place whose angered, enraptured, innocent, poisonous species hold him in their thrall”[19]. Symmetry is the definitive word of Todd’s method. In addition to the portrayal of characters, there is deliberate design of concurrent and complementary opposites propagating in the narrative. In Palindromes, nearly every character, situation, or morality has a counterpoint. Mama Sunshine is an endearing, lovable, and selfless woman-- a sillier mother Teresa. Her husband, Bo, is a terrorist. Aviva starts off young and innocent, afraid of becoming pregnant and having a bad life like her late cousin Dawn. She then becomes pregnant like she feared, and has an abortion. Later, she aids in the botched assassination of an abortion doctor. Todd comments on this moral relativism, saying “I think it’s a profoundly human thing, that basically we all believe we're good people. Even Stalin, on his deathbed, thought he was a good person. The person who murders the abortionist is, in his mind, saving a million unborn babies”[20]. The symmetry is set up in the central conceit of the film, as well, having Dawn’s journey be portrayed by eight diverse actors, who reappear in reverse order as the film comes to a resolution.

            Another example would be Storytelling, which includes symmetry inherently with a bifurcated narrative. In the “Fiction” segment, there are several scenes that drastically turn away from the flat and neutral visual style of the rest of Todd’s films. When Vi approaches Mr. Scott in the bar, they are lit in both the erotic and the foreboding color of red. When they have sex, the lighting is low key and sinister. Then, in “Nonfiction”, both the visual style and the story and characters are exaggeratedly neutral and stereotypically suburban. Stuart Klawans observes in his review of the film in Nation that, “Solondz has cast the spherical John Goodman as husband to linear Julie Hagerty, creating a classic sight gag. What interests me, though, isn't just the contrast of physical types; it's the way that the contrast is hilarious with the Livingstons but not funny at all with Vi and Mr. Scott”[21]. This sight gag at one time evokes disgust, and then at another time evokes a tickled or enthusiastic response. The contrast between Vi and Mr. Scott creates tension and discomfort, but the contrast between Mr. and Mrs. Livingston is an extremely familiar and comfortable one. Racial divides are likened to the divide seen in pairs like Ralph and Alice Kramden or Homer and Marge Simpson. Of course, this parallel is not an indictment of those comedic contrasts, but another device of symmetry. Vi and Mr. Scott’s differences catalyze fetishism and deviancy, while the contrast with the Livingstons is a more loving and gentle, “opposites attract” type of coupling. Yet the same method is used to convey those traits. The sight gag works on the same level, suggesting that neither the situation is more typical or atypical. Symmetry ultimately functions as an equalizer, to suggest that abnormality does not exist, and that deviancy is not alien.

                4. Deviancy is Normal and Conclusion

            The perception that Solondz is somehow trying to shock or offend audiences with controversial subjects is incorrect. Todd allays this, saying, “I don't think any of my subjects are particularly alien to anyone who lives on our planet […] all these sorts of subjects are out there. My role is in some way I respond to and reshape the experience of understanding the kind of things we're assaulted with on such a regular basis”[22]. Solondz is an inclusive filmmaker, not an exclusive one. All of his methods and trademarks serve this ideal. While farcical, the execution of the characters and story are empathetic and complex rather than judgmental. There are no stifling rulings over anything. Mockery is never the intention of the comedic aspects of his films. In life’s complexity, some things can be surprisingly funny or surprisingly profound, sometimes even profoundly disturbing, though never alien. Todd Solondz is not an alienating filmmaker. On the contrary, his films are intended to be relatable. Eight actors play Aviva in his film Palindromes. Each actor has a name and appearance that represents a new part of Aviva’s journey, but even more so, it makes the character universal, as Solondz puts it, “When I made Welcome to the Dollhouse people of all shapes and sizes -- a beautiful slender model, a big fat truck driver -- would come up to me after the film and say, ‘That was me. I was Dawn Wiener.’ So what I'm doing now is saying, ‘You can all be this young girl’”[23].

Despite its peculiarity, his unorthodox approach often resonates. His treatment of Welcome to the Dollhouse is over-the top, but people relate to it because it externalizes the inner-drama of adolescence. In Palindromes¸ it becomes fitting to have eight actors play Aviva when, as an adolescent, she is struggling to find and maintain an identity, like every teenager. Happiness lays out a wide tapestry of several characters in pursuit of the humanity’s most prized and hard to find commodity, and sometimes people don't deserve it. If only Bill Maplewood could make love to young boys, then he would be happy. Yet, the harm that he causes his family to go through as a result of his pedantry brings the opposite of what he was in search of. Bill Maplewood is a despicable human being, but a human nonetheless, trying to navigate life’s challenges, trying to be happy. Todd says of Abe in Dark Horse, “I never want to soften the truth of what a character’s about. My aim, rather, is by the end of the film, the audience will come to look at him in a different way. That beneath the bluster, the obnoxiousness, let’s say, is a kind of pulse—a real human soul struggling and bleeding. And that moves me”[24]. His films are not an indictment, but an examination, with the mode of humor being only a reflection of life’s complexity, the comedy being both a study of context and subversion. He does not suggest that perversion lurks around corners. Rather, he suggests that it is all around us, interwoven into society, not at all separated or contained.

---

[1] Ebert, Roger. "Palindromes" Rev. of Film. Chicago Sun-Times 28 April 2005: n. pag.      RogerEbert.Com. Web. 21 Aug. 2014.

[2] ManateeEducationalTV. “In Conversation With Todd Solondz”. Online video clip. YouTube.       Sarasota Film       Festival, 14 May 2012. Web. 21 Apr. 2014

[3] Solondz, Todd. "The Last Laugh." Sight & Sound 15.5 (2005): 29. Film & Television Literature                 Index. Web. 26     Apr. 2014.

[4] Solondz, “The Last Laugh”, 2005

[5] ManateeEducationalTV, 14 May 2012

[6] ManateeEducationalTV, 14 May 2012

[7] Klawans, Stuart. "Family Dynamics." Nation 274.(2002): 35-37. Film & Television Literature Index. Web. 26 Apr. 2014.

[8] Solondz, 2005

[9] Hundley, Jessica. "Todd Solondz Loves You." MovieMaker Magazine. N.p., 23 Mar. 2005. Web. 26 Apr.                 2014. <http://www.moviemaker.com/articles-directing/todd-solondz-loves-you-2905/>.

[10] Silberg, Jon. "'Dark Horse:' Andrij Parekh on Digital Cinematography, Difficult Subjects and Director Todd             Solondz." Creative Planet Network. New Bay Media, 22 Aug. 2012. Web. 26 Apr. 2014.     <http://www.creativeplanetnetwork.com/digital-cinematography/news/dark-horse-andrij-parekh-digital-            cinematography-difficult- qsubjects-and-director-todd-solondz/6022>

[11] ManateeEducationalTV, 14 May 2012

[12] IUCinema. “10 Questions for Todd Solondz”. Online video clip. YouTube. Indiana University, 7 February 2013.    Web. 21 Apr. 2014

[13] ManateeEducationalTV, 14 May 2012

[14] ManateeEducationalTV, 14 May 2012

[15] Cross, Alice. "Surviving Adolescence With Dignity: An Interview With Todd Solondz." Cineaste 22.3 (1996): 24.   Film & Television Literature Index. Web. 26 Apr. 2014.

[16] Cross, 1996

[17] Hundley, 23 March 2005

[18] Ebert, Roger. "Welcome to the Dollhouse." Rev. of Film. Chicago Sun-Times 14 June 1996: n. pag.           RogerEbert.Com. Web. 21 Apr. 2014

[19] WAGNER, BRUCE. "Life Sentences." Film Comment 46.4 (2010): 44-47. Film & Television Literature Index.       Web. 26 Apr. 2014.

[20] Hundley, 23 March 2005

[21] Klawans, 2002

[22] IUCinema, 2013

[23] Solondz, 2005

[24] ManateeEducationalTV, 14 May 2012

Sunset Boulevard (1950) dir. Billy Wilder

So this is the third entry in reverse alphabetical order on the registry, and the third film I've already seen before... Not sure if this is a benefit, because I can give a better analysis, or a hindrance because there is no discovery involved. I can't give a fresh and uninformed hackjob opinion on a movie I've never seen before by a director I'm not familiar with. When I was in the sixth grade, I spelled "familiar" as "framiliar" on a spelling test.

 
So, um, this movie was directed by Billy Wilder. He makes lots of good movies, or whatever. 

The Movie
I can't really give any insight to Billy Wilder as a director. I've only seen three of his films. Which isn't bad, I guess, but you know. Hitchcock is so iconic. Wilder is a household name, but he just makes good movies. You just have to take it at face value. 

He's primarily a writer and actor's director. He doesn't get a lot of praise for his visuals, but I've found that several of his more provocative works like this one have several great moments of clever visual language. There's a subtle but heavily structured visual concept to them (his film noir work is a good example, as the common staples of lighting and framing of the genre often involve very complex emotional and psychological metaphors).

A great example. Norma stands up in anger while watching one of her old films, just as the smoke from Joe's cigarette floats around her head. Like she is literally fuming. 

And a lot of the great German filmmakers share that tendency. But there's also a lot of narration in his noir stuff. This doesn't bother me in and of itself, but the fact that it's in his films specifically kinda makes me confuzzled. 

Billy Wilder actually has 10 screenwriting tips. One of them is to never include voice over that tells us what we already see. But the thing is, he fucking does that all the time. Yeah, it might slightly enhance what we're seeing, but it's redundant nonetheless. I'm fine with it. The narration is stylish and everything, just stop being such a lying shithole, Billy Wilder. 

And that kinda brings me to my main point. I really can't say with any degree of accuracy how important this film is in Billy Wilder's repertoire. But I bet it's his most important. That over-descriptive narration? While I believe it to be unintentional in his earlier noir, Double Indemnity (1944), I think it's satirical here. In Sunset Boulevard, Billy Wilder was calling his own bullshit. And Hollywood's bullshit. And my bullshit and your bullshit. 

Joe Gillis is a struggling screenwriter, who despite having the chops to pitch a screenplay, can't seem to actually write an original one. Running away from the repo men who are after his car, he hides in the house of the faded silent movie star, Norma Desmond, who has just laid her monkey to rest. 

Norma is batshit insane. She lives only with her butler, occasionally watching her old films and writing the outline for a film she wants to have made by Cecile B. Demille, when she's not doing poker games with Buster Keaton. 

She hires Joe to polish her screenplay, and soon starts grooming him as a romantic companion. He goes along with it, his desperation for money sucking every ounce of his integrity away. He starts to become a bigwig, impressing his friends in the industry. Meanwhile, he has a tentative romance with his friend Al's fiance, Betty. 

SPOILERS
Norma starts going crazier and crazier, and Joe simply can't take it, deciding he wants to both write and be with Betty. Norma's screenplay was ignored by Cecile B. DeMille, who pities her but will not give her a role anymore. I asked myself at one point, why doesn't someone give her a chance? And at that very moment, she reminds DeMille that she never works before 10am or after 4pm.

She loses it. Joe, even though he slept with her, turns her away and starts packing to leave for his old job in Ohio. He even turned Betty away, looking to rid himself of the whole business. Norma shoots Joe three times, killing him. The last scene depicts Norma coming down the steps of her mansion to be arrested while photographers flash their cameras at her. She believes she is doing a scene for Cecile B. DeMille's new film. 

Significance
Well, this is the opening shot: 

Right off the bat, we know we're stepping into the world of Hollywood, but we won't be seeing the glamour that Hollywood represents. Instead we're seeing what's below, the dirty street corners with big white words painted on them. We're gonna see some real shit. 

Like I said, this was Wilder's way of calling everyone's bullshit, specifically Hollywood's. And one of the ways he does this is by bullshitting us himself. 

He mocks audience and studio complacency by staging farcical sequences and taking away the resolution we expect from storylines and even individual sequences.

Joe is led to Norma's room, expecting to find something horrible. There has already been talk from her butler about moving a coffin. Turns out just to be a dead monkey. Disturbing, but kinda silly at the same time.

Butler plays the organ...

Norma goes through a series of utterly ridiculous beauty treatments to look her best for her new "movie".

The greatest source of tension is the collision of Old Hollywood and New Hollywood, much like old and new money in The Great Gatsby. Coincidentally, both films are about a man that went from dirt poor to rich through questionable means and ends up getting shot into a swimming pool over a love affair. 

Joe sneaks away from Norma's extravagant New Years celebration to catch up with his industry friends, who are all dressed normally in a cramped apartment, while he wears a full tux. 

And now, because of this film, we have the great subgenre or industry satire films. It's influence can be seen in films like The Player (1992), L.A. Confidential (1997), Swimming With Sharks (1994), The Artist (2012), etc... Films that play on industry standards, use the cut-throat atmosphere of the city to act as a dramatic backdrop, and include many nods to film and filmmaking. 

"You'd have turned down Gone With the Wind."
"No, that was me. I said, 'Who wants to see a civil war picture?"

It was 1950. Cinema had been around for almost half a century. It had evolved so much up to that point, seen good times and bad. And this film is like the halfway marker. It's a celebration of the industry, an indictment of it, and a bit of a "so what do we do now?" Sort of like a memo. It told us where we were at, and how to move forward. 

That's all I really feel like saying. I wanna watch something new.