Rebel Without a Cause

Much like James Cagney, James Dean was another Hollywood star who wasted no time toiling away in bit parts. At the ripe old age of 24, Dean acheived cinematic immortality in only his second major role (his first was the role which put him on the map, the charismatic lead in Elia Kazan's "East of Eden" earlier that year). In actuality, immortality came a few weeks before his role was ever seen. Weeks before audiences would forever remember Dean and his fire engine red jacket in "Rebel Without a Cause", Dean was killed in a car accident. This tragic death turned Dean into a cult obsession, first among girls, and then years later as rumors of his personal life surfaced, amongst gay culture. His life certainly was interesting, albeit extremely and unfortunately brief, and a microcosm of that is his brooding portrayal of Jim Stark in Nicholas Ray's seminal examination of teenage-dom "Rebel Without a Cause". In addition to James Dean, Ray assembled an impressive cast of young actors, including Natalie Wood, who lobbied hard for the role of Judy, Sal Mineo, who gave an excellent portrayal of the tragic character Plato, and an impossibly young Dennis Hopper, as a gang member (rumor has it that Hopper's affair with Natalie Wood cost him Sal Mineo's larger role, thanks to director Ray's jealousy). For its time "Rebel Without a Cause" was an intense look at its difficult subject matter, and it holds up surprisingly well today, thanks mostly to Dean's incendiary performance, as well as the grim epilogue life administered for the film; in addition to Dean's premature death, both Sal Mineo and Natalie Wood also died young under tragic circumstances.

As the film begins, Jim Stark has been arrested for being drunk in public. The opening scene plays out in a series of long takes (which killed director Ray, who had to indulge his Method obsessed star by holding up shooting until Dean emerged from his trailer realistically drunk and enraged from wine and pounding Wagner music!) and it introduces us to both the three main characters as well as their relationships with their parents (or in Plato's case, parental guardians). Jim is taken home by his controlling mother and henpecked father, who means well but never stands up to his wife, a point which drives Jim crazy. Judy, who has run away, is taken home by her distant mother and hateful father, who refuses to show his daughter any affection, disgusted at the "slut" he thinks she has become. Plato, arrested for shooting squirrels with a bee bee gun, is in the most depressing of situations. Parents divorced, ostensibly living with his mother, who is always gone, Plato's only source of authority and parental guidance and affection is an overwhelmed maid/nanny, who means well but cannot possibly cope with the emotional problems plauging Plato. Jim is by nature a shy, introverted kid, but he is prone to violent outbursts, particularly when he feels the need to assert his father's authority for him, be it by standing up to his mother, or challenging the old man himself. Jim also allows himself to be goaded into a knife fight and a "chicken run", a deadly game of chicken involving driving cars towards a cliff, testing the other's nerves to see who bails out first. Jim's nemesis both times is Buzz, a hulking jerk, who happens to be Judy's boyfriend, if for no other reason than because she is so desperate for affection, she would rather subject herself to Buzz than attempt winning back her father's long forgotten love. After Buzz' accidental death in the chicken run, Judy is surprised to find warmth and kindess from Jim, who, while new to their high school, seems to understand Judy better than anyone else. Together with Plato, a pathetic figure ridiculed by kids his own age and ignored by adults, they form a bizarre trio, but establish a new age functional family unit, with Jim and Judy as mother and father, and Plato as their adoring son.

The new family's happiness is fleeting however. Buzz' gang comes after Jim, seeking revenge and end up chasing the trio to the Griffith Observatory (a stunning use of a real life Los Angeles landmark) where they hide out, at first from the gang, and then after Plato shoots one of the members, from the police. The ending is a tense standoff. Plato refuses to come out of the Observatory, and Jim bargains with the police to bring him out if there is no more violence. In the ultimate show of compassion Jim gives the frightened Plato his bright red jacket, an article of clothing Plato has cherished from the beginning of the movie, and which clearly touches his heart. As the two exit the Observatory, Plato gets frightened by the flood lights on him and tries to run, tragically prompting a volley of fire from the police. Jim and Judy are distraught, but together, the two leave the scene, arm in arm, no longer looking for, or expecting understanding and affection from their parents. This ending, of Jim and Judy seemingly striking off on their own, set the country's teenage hearts on fire. Between this and Marlon Brando's "The Wild One" from the year before, which ellicited the classic exchange "What are you rebelling against?", "Whaddya got?", teenagers began to feel as if they were being included. These films spoke directly to them, and not surprisingly, the number of teen oriented "message" movies spiked in the late 1950's with films such as "The Blackboard Jungle" which went a step further, incorporating a new teen craze: rock and roll music. For its mark on Hollywood, inspiring an entire new demographic's worth of films, as well as unfortunately being the brightest the James Dean star would ever burn on film, "Rebel Without a Cause" is a true classic.

The Public Enemy

Becoming a star in Hollywood is a tricky business. However, for a select few, that once-in-a-lifetime role comes along early and overnight they are the new sensation. James Cagney was a moderately successful theater actor, whose credits were primarily musicals and comedies. However his first drama, "Satan's Holiday" on Broadway, caught the attention of some Hollywood producers, and he was brought west to do the film version. Then, at the ripe old age of 32, after a decent but thoroughly unspectacular theatrical career, James Cagney got that once-in-a-lifetime role, as Tom Powers in "The Public Enemy". In 1930 the gangster movie craze began with Edward G. Robinson's own star-making turn as Rico "Little Caesar" Bendello in "Little Caesar". The very next year the genre would do likewise for Cagney. As the psychotic Tom Powers, Cagney announced to the world that there was a new star in town. Impossibly charismatic, Cagney absolutely dominates the screen, chewing scenery with his tough guy patois and shooting up scenery with his signature tommy guns. Oddly enough, the new tough guy leading man almost ended up being Edward Woods, who was signed for the role of Tom Powers. But after only a few days of shooting, director William Wellman noticed how Cagney was overwhelming his co-star and promptly switched roles. The rest of course is history. Woods went on to cinematic obscurity and Cagney became the defining star of a new genre.

As the film opens, Tom and his buddy Matt Doyle are just kids. However the dark path their lives are going to take is unmistakable, as Tom is already a delinquent, and Matt is too meek to stand up to the brash Tom. As the action shifts to the boys as teenagers, they are now established in the underworld, working for a low level fence Putty Nose. Their first major job is robbing a fur company, and during the theft a policeman is shot and killed by Tom. Putty Nose deserts the boys who come to him looking for help, a betrayal Tom remembers vividly, when he catches up with Putty Nose, now a pathetic old man, years later and cold bloodedly kills him. The sensational theft of the fur company earns the boys respect in the underworld however, and soon they are working for someone a little higher on the pecking order, Paddy Ryan. Ryan is a bootlegger, and Tom and Matt quickly become top enforcers for his racket, mostly thanks to Tom's brutal instincts and tactics. Inevitably a bigger fish gets wind of Tom Powers, whose reputation is vastly preceding him by this point, and it is not long before Tom and Matt are working for Nails Nathan, based on Dion O'Bannon, a notorious gangster in Chicago and chief rival of the Capone gang. In addition to fighting the war on the streets, Tom also has to deal with two other adversaries: his brother, and his women. Tom's brother Mike is a straight arrow type, just back from serving in World War I, when he learns Tom is a quickly rising force in the underworld. He forbids Tom from visiting home and helping out their mother, who despite Mike's good intentions, cannot bring herself to disown Tom, despite his violent lifestyle. Tom also has to deal with the women in his life. Initially he and Matt find two girls, Kitty and Mamie, respectively. Tom's girl Kitty, played by Mae Clarke, just one of the many victims Tom Powers leaves in his path throughout the film, suffers an indignity far worse than being gun downed however. In perhaps the most famous use of fruit in cinematic history, Tom dismisses the pushy Kitty by shoving a half of grapefuit in her face during breakfast, but he does so with such fury and malice that he might as well have killed her, his intent is that diabolical. Soon after Tom finds Gwen, a fast living materialistic dame, who while an incredibly shallow character, is significant for being the first major role portrayed by Jean Harlow, who would go on to become a huge star.

This being the 1930's, the studios had to be careful not to glorify the criminal lifestyle too greatly, or else face the wrath of the conservative majority. Thus in all of the 1930's gangster epics, the main character always gets it in the end, albeit in spectacular fashion. "The Public Enemy" provides an ending as bombastic as any of the others, with Tom getting cornered by the police, blasting his way out, but not before being riddled with bullets and slumping into the gutter he remarks the classic line: "I ain't so tough." Still alive from the shootout he is put into intensive care with police protection from the underworld interests that would love to see the great Tom Powers dead. They soon get their wish as back at Tom's family's home, Mike is trying to console their hysterical mother when they are interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Mike goes to answer it and is shocked when he finds Tom, wrapped up in his hospital blankets, slumped in the door way. Thinking somehow Tom escaped he begins to lecture him, then suddenly realizes he is wrong as his body crashes to the floor. Tom has been killed, his body smuggled out and deposited at his mother's home as a message: Tom Powers ain't so tough anymore. The image of Tom's pathetic corpse wrapped in his blankets, dead on his mother's floor, is a stark message Hollywood (had to) impart on the film going public. The film, like "Little Caesar" before it, and "Scarface" after it, contains a silly epilouge in which a policeman, speaking directly to the screen, deplores the actions of Tom Powers in the film, as well as those who would act like him in real life. Howard Hawks was even forced to add the ridiculous subtitle "Shame of the Nation" onto his film, when censors complained about its unprecedented levels of violence, as well as a incest subplot, played out completely in Brian DePalma's subtlety free remake 50 years later. While "Little Caesar" came first, and "Scarface" is ultimately the most sensational of the genre, "The Public Enemy" deserves lasting credit though for establishing James Cagney as a huge star, and while he would go on to make several other classic gangster films, such as "Angels With Dirty Faces" and "White Heat", he proved his versatility in musicals such as "Footlight Parade" and "Yankee Doodle Dandy" and comedies such as "One, Two, Three". He would later admit to feeling trapped by the tough guy roles he was pigeonholed in, but the reality of it is, no one was tougher than James Cagney.

Sunset Boulevard

While Billy Wilder made a name for himself directing cynical comedies, such as "The Apartment", he is forgotten as a great dramatic director. The few times he stepped completely into the genre he made some classics, among them "The Lost Weekend" which garnered star Ray Milland a Best Actor Oscar and still stands as an unflinching look at the effects of alcoholism, and "Stalag 17", a gritty war movie. However, his best dramatic effort is "Sunset Boulevard", another unflinching examination, this time of his very own craft. Watching "Sunset Boulevard" you get the distinct impression that Wilder either had a severe ax to grind or really was as cynical as his films would indicate, as everyone is shown in an extremely unflattering light. Demented and forgotten silent film star Norma Desmond (played by the forgotten, possibly demented silent film star Gloria Swanson in an amazing performance) takes in struggling screenwriter Joe Gillis and initially hires him to rewrite her 200 page script, "Salome". Soon their relationship turns sordid, as Norma falls madly (literally and figuratively) in love with the handsome young Joe, who tries playing both sides, taking Norma's money, but also telling himself he will bolt the first real chance he gets to pursue "Blind Windows", a script he is writing with Betty, a pretty young script girl at the studio. Both of the main characters are pretty unlikeable, nothing new for a Billy Wilder film, but he also crams in Norma's creepy butler Max (played by forgotten silent film director Erich von Stroheim, another absolutely brilliant bit of casting), a cigar chomping, "Action!" barking Cecil B. DeMille (playing himself!), a bunch of other forgotten silent film stars playing a bunch of forgotten silent film stars (that Joe calls "the wax works", an extremely apropos description), and a dead monkey's funeral, all to create an atmosphere that Hollywood is a bitter, depressing, backstabbing, delirious, disastrous place to work and live. Not exactly Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis in drag.

As the film opens Joe Gillis is lying face down in a swimming pool, dead. Take that "American Beauty". We flash back though, with this knowledge purposely in our heads, to when Joe has just had his latest idea (and last chance) shot down by the studio chief. Out of money and chased by repo men after his car, Joe ducks into a winding driveway up in the Hollywood Hills and loses the men. He wanders into the seemingly shut up mansion but finds its occupant, an eccentric older woman in mourning for her dead monkey. After serving as pall bearer in the bizarre ritual, Joe realizes the woman is Norma Desmond, the actress. He quickly comes to understand that Norma is convinced she is still a star, thanks to an elaborate ruse put on by her butler, Max, also her ex-husband and director of some of her greatest films from her glory days. For years Max has been humoring her as she writes her epic "Salome", lying to her about studio interest in her and the project, writing her fake fan mail, and allowing her to indulge her vanity through home screenings of her old movies (Interestingly, Wilder uses clips of "Queen Christina", a legendarily unfinished film Stroheim, a legendarily extravagent director, had shut down on him due to exorbitant costs that starred the real Gloria Swanson). In the history of Hollywood there are few, if any, more fully realized roles than that of Norma Desmond, and give Gloria Swanson credit; she came out of retirement and absolutely transcended, blurring the line between herself and her on screen alter ago to the point that one had to wonder, was Gloria Swanson really crazy? She is that good, and the role is that perfectly delineated. For a while Joe manages to keep Norma happy by working on her script (and, as the film alludes, indulging her sexually) by day and sneaking away to work on his script with Betty back at the studio by night. Finally completing the epic, Norma thinks she can just put in a call to C.B. DeMille, her old friend at Paramount, and walk right in with the cameras ready to roll. Calls from the studio have convinced her this is the case (when in fact they really want to borrow her hideous 1920's beast of a car for a Bing Crosby movie!), and Max is too devoted to tell her the truth.

After realizing her dream project is not going to happen (thanks to a disastrous visit to the studio) Norma becomes hysterical and tries to kill herself. Joe can sense the situation spiraling out of control, Norma is incredibly unstable and this latest (and probably last, in an interesting parallel to Joe's situation at the beginning of the film) defeat is too much for her to bear, so he tries to break off their "relationship" by returning everything she bought him, packing his suitcase and just walking out the front door. Norma has been forgotten by everyone in Hollywood, but she absolutely refuses to be forgotten by Joe Gillis, a nothing screenwriter she gave everything she had to, and responds by shooting him dead. This all sets up the film's stunning and now famous finale: with (news)cameras rolling, Norma makes her final appearance for her fans, boldly announcing "Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up!" as DeMille, Hollywood tabloid queen Hedda Hopper, and dozens of others look on in utter curiousity, watching this train wreck proceed past them, the public suddenly very interested in Norma Desmond once again. Predictably the film created quite a sensation in Hollywood, prompting Louis B. Mayer, head of MGM, to publicy vilify Wilder for the cinematic condemnation he gave the industry. But Wilder, always ready with a snappy comeback, simply responded to Mayer's outburst with a curt "Fuck you". The final film really is a masterpiece, and watching it, you completely forget that it is a Billy Wilder film. The understanding of the studio system, the absolutely perfect realization of a scorned older woman, the exquisitely detailed attention to time and place, all seems like too much credit to give to an obscure Polish immigrant who came to Hollywood twenty years before not knowing a single word of English. Watching this film now though, keeping in mind that Wilder could create something as powerful as this, something as hysterical as "Some Like It Hot" and something as touching as "The Apartment" and one has to wonder: when considering the list of the greatest directors of all time, along with John Ford, Howard Hawks, and Alfred Hitchcock, one really must include Billy Wilder, a true master of his craft.

The Apartment

Billy Wilder was an extremely interesting director. He was inherently a comedic director, but he was arguably the first director since Chaplin to inject actual pathos into his films that were basically designed to make people laugh. Comedy is always looked down upon for being inferior to drama, but Wilder had the distinct ability to give his comedies something deeper, and perhaps his deepest "comedy" is his Academy Award winning film "The Apartment". Lacing every single scene with a tinge of cynicism and bitterness, the film can easily be mistaken for a Woody Allen film, as its characters are all filled with problems, neuroses and imperfections. The protagonist, the always appealing Jack Lemmon as Bud Baxter, is a corporate schlub who hatches the perfect scheme: instead of toiling away for years, rising up the ladder the old fashioned way, he plans on using his boss' vices for his own benefit, by exchanging his apartment for their extramarital affairs for a little favortism when it comes to promotions. Imagine, a comedy in which the mild mannered, endearing main character's primary goal is to get ahead by aiding his superiors in having affairs with their wives. Only Billy Wilder would expect (and more significantly get) the audience's support for Baxter; of course it does not hurt that Jack Lemmon plays Bud as a generally nice guy who has figured out a loophole, something any one can relate to. His perfect plan however collides head on with his personal feelings when, after a series of promotions, he is loaning the apartment to the company president who chooses as his next fling Fran Kubelik, the pretty elevator girl that Baxter is secretly in love with. In an ordinary romantic comedy the outcome would never be in doubt, but with Wilder, well, it always pays to watch until the very end.

The film opens with an introduction to Baxter in his midtown office building. He is portrayed as the only nice guy in a sea of jerks. This is demonstrated by the fact that he removes his hat when addressing Fran in the elevator, something none of the other men do, and that, despite his immoral means of getting ahead, he really does go out of his way to make the situation work. He is constantly rearranging his schedule to accomodate the sexual proclivities of his bosses, and must endure the scorn of his neighbors, who see a parade of men, women and booze coming and going from his apartment every night. What makes Baxter likeable is that his intentions are good; if he could get ahead the old fashioned way, through hard work and paying one's dues, he would, but he knows that is not often the case. His plan works up until a point; after getting all the way up to assistant to the top man, company president Jeff Sheldrake, Baxter is finally forced to make a decision: his morals, or his job. The dilemma comes in the form of Sheldrake's new girl, Fran. Sheldrake, played by Fred MacMurray in what must have shocked audiences of the time, since MacMurray was usually more suited to goofy supporting roles or light hearted family comedies, here plays the smug, smarmy suit that initially tempts Baxter with tokens of appreciation for his complicity, tickets to the hot Broadway musical for instance, but then, when Baxter tries sabotaging the relationship because of his own feelings for Fran, the snake inside Sheldrake bares its fangs and threatens Baxter's job. Complicating things is that Fran, despite having Baxter, an all around nice guy who genuinely loves her, right in front of her the entire time, spends most of the movie blissfully unaware of his noble intentions towards her, and actually tries deluding herself into thinking Sheldrake cares for her, and that it could work between them. When Sheldrake refuses to break an engagement with his wife to see her, right around Christmas, Fran swallows a bottle of pills at Baxter's apartment, and thanks to the kindly but suspicious next door neighbor who happens to be a doctor, Baxter is able to nurse her back to health.

The audience's frustrations are taken even higher, as another woman informs Sheldrake's wife of his affairs, and she promptly kicks him out of the house, leaving him free to pursue Fran, which she stupidly falls for. Baxter is furious, both at Sheldrake, to whom he has confessed his feelings for Fran by this point, and to Fran, for falling back under Sheldrake's slimy spell. Predictably, Sheldrake almost immediately brushes off Fran's big plans for them, and she wanders aimlessly back to Baxter's apartment. After losing his job over Fran, then proceeding to pour his heart out to her when she finally comes back to him, the only response Fran has for him is "cut the cards", a joke concerning the unfinished gin game the two have throughout the movie. Then the credits roll. Wilder ends his film without any confirmation that Baxter and Fran end up together, a move even Woody Allen would consider too cynical. Yet, leaving it up to the audience's imagination (while the majority of people, the optimists, would see Fran's return as a sign that they will end up together, the ending can most certainly be read as sign that while the two absolutely should be together, they absolutely never will) somehow works in this film. For every cute, romantic scene, such as the famous dinner Baxter prepares for Fran while nursing her back to health (straining spaghetti with a tennis racket) there is one of melancholy and cynicism, such as Baxter getting drunk with a stranger at a bar, trying to bring her back to his apartment, only to find that it is in use. This film serves as both a pinnacle for Billy Wilder (he won three Oscars for it, writing, directing and producing it) and also a turning point. While he was never a fluffy director, even his more light hearted comedies, like "Sabrina" and "Love in the Afternoon" feature attempted suicide, adultery and other dark topics not usually found in frothy entertainment, from here on, he only made films like these, sweet confections with a bitter aftertaste. And while he had worked for nearly 30 years to this point and would work for nearly 20 more, "The Apartment", directly on the heels of his other masterpiece "Some Like It Hot", is his undisputed apex.