The Art of Billy Wilder: The 1940's

If I had to surmise the talents of Billy Wilder into a phrase, 'jack of all trades' quite nicely covers it, in several different uses of the word. He not only wrote/directed pretty much all of his films, exuding complete creative control over all of them, he also delved into so many different and unique genres. I was planning to do a little ranking for his birthday but thought, it's difficult to try and explain my ranking of his films as there's so many of them I love just about equally (though my top two are quite easily ahead of the pack). So I thought, why not take a brief look at my personal favourites of his filmography; starting with the 1940's.

As good a place as any to look at is his early career to find where the sheer brilliance of Wilder began. Now Wilder was before starting his career as a director a rather excellent and renowned screenwriter already. He wrote the likes of Ninotchka, and Ball of Fire, both of which are considered to be among the greatest comedies of all-time. I love both these films but I won't get into them too much since, though they have distinctive trademarks of Wilder in both of them (well-written female characters and hilarious setpieces in the former, a marvelous Barbara Stanwyck and some hilarious side characters of both the brawny and brainy variety in the latter), they're not completely Billy Wilder works, and a lot of credit to their respective succeses must also go to the directors of them, the wonderful Ernst Lubitsch and Howard Hawks.

I digress. Wilder's run in the 1940's was at a point he hadn't quite reached his peak as a director yet. Well, not to worry, because a yet-fully-formed-Wilder was still an immense talent. Of some of his lesser known works during this period, I particularly have a fond spot for Five Graves to Cairo, a thrilling war film set in a hotel, a kinda precursor to the one-setting scenario of Stalag 17 in blending a palatable sense of tension and humour to the exploits of Corporal John Bramble (an excellent straight man performance by Franchot Tone) to outwit the Nazis at the hotel. The film is perhaps a bit more clearly commercialized than some of Wilder's other works and is not an extremely complex character piece, but is still very enjoyable to watch.

The Lost Weekend, about a weekend spent by writer Don Birnam (Ray Milland) fighting alcoholism and his demons, garnered Wilder his first Best Director Oscar, and his leading man Milland a Best Actor gong. Both were extremely well-deserved; Wilder's creation of a claustraphobic atmosphere of decadent obsession and paranoia is excellent as well as his handling of the more tender romantic moments, and Milland's performance is a fantastic example of a showcase performance working to perfection. At such an early junction in his career, where he dabbled with anything from fun thrillers like Five Graves to Cairo to light comedies like A Foreign Affair, Wilder displayed his depth and dexterity as a filmmaker with this unsparing tale of addiction that's been aped and copied so many times since. Thin Nicolas Cage was haunting in Leaving Las Vegas? I love that performance too, but here you get the sort of deal that started it all.

The film is a haunting and actually not at all dated look into alcoholism. It's greatest strengths lie in its 'small' moments; watching the early hints of Don's alcoholism in the flashbacks as he holds his drink a little tighter, sneaks a few casual pints in his jacket. It's remarkable to see such a subtle depiction of a tough subject matter in a time where censorship was ramped up to the maximum, and Wilder managed to avoid them by treating his material not in a gratuitously graphic fashion, but with hints and implications through the film and Milland's great performance.

It's Double Indemnity,, released a year earlier than The Lost Weekend, however, which truly signifies to me just how brilliant Wilder was already at this point. This great film tells the tale of insurance salesman Walter Neff (an excellent Fred MacMurray) falling head over heels for the no-good, sensual housewife Phyllis Dietrichson, played by Barbara Stanwyck. The two soon become embroiled in a murderous plot to off Dietrichson's supposedly no-good husband, and all starts to fall apart from there, largely due to the efforts of the brilliant claims adjuster Barton Keyes, played by Edward G. Robinson, quite possibly the biggest G in film history.

Just look at this opening credits. Sets the tone so perfectly, foreshadowing a specific plot element, atmospheric score, you know what you're in for from the very start.

I have to single out Stanwyck's work first. She doesn't just play the femme fatale to perfection, she DEFINES the role with her biting, incisive, darkly humorous and even at the very end, somewhat moving, performance as one of the coldest, most despicable villains ever to grace the silver screen. Stanwyck never took on a role as cold and unsympathetic as this before or after this performance; she was usualyl cast as either a screwball queen of comedy or a sympathetic, emotionally poignant dramatic protagonist, though she was excellent at both and routinely proved to me why she's one of my all-time favourite actresses. The funny thing is Dietrichson employs some of the aspects of her earlier work in the likes of The Lady Eve and Ball of Fire to add to her charm and allure, as well as some of the depths of her work in Stella Dallas, for example, to power the false 'sympathy' we are supposed to feel for her character. This is a performance I could go on, and on, and on about.

The relationship between Neff and Dietrichson is astutely turned into one of the great onscreen pairings, though not in the usual way of 'oh they're so right for each other'. Neff and Dietrichson bring out the worst in each other, and it's compelling to see the smitten pawn of Neff wander into the various traps laid by Dietrichson. The script, written by Billy Wilder and (gasp) one of my favourite authors Raymond Chandler is pitch-perfect, especially in terms of its crackling dialogue that never relents in its back-and-forth momentum. I would say this is the best ever Raymond Chandler film and it's not even based on a Raymond Chandler novel (it's adapted from a James M. Cain book). It perfectly captures his precise sort of style and also his nihilistic approach to morality, with a few glimpses of humanity here and there, only this time round the righteous hero we root for is not our protagonist a la Philip Marlowe but someone else entirely.

 It never moralizes and keeps making the devious plans of our lead duo so unapologetically cold, but delivers their lines in an almost screwball, fast-paced fashion that creates quite the disconcerting effect. MacMurray and Stanwyck do have chemistry (they went on to work a few more times I think), and there is a spark to their discourses, but it's all played for the grand purpose of at its lightest, black comedy, and at its darkest, pure vehemence.

Dietrihson uses everyone as a tool, a means to an end until the very end when it all comes to bite her in the back in one breathtakingly well-acted scene in which Phyllis gets her comeuppance. All through the film Wilder's direction follows excellently in suit to the tone of these scenes as he creates such a haunting mood to each of these scenes where we feel Neff being pulled into the devil's grasp. MacMurray is fantastic in these scenes by playing a schmuck who's brought against his better judgement by luck. It's not till the very end (I'm not going to enclose a clip of THAT scene here, I feel watching it in the film for the first time gives you so much more of a viscreal jolt) that he finally gains some autonomy and does the right thing, though all too late.

One thing about the film I love is the use of shadows and lighting. MacMurray is always lighted up clearly and distinctively in his scenes with Keyes, while in scenes with Stanwyck there's a darkness or unfocused lighting which makes him more of a brooding, less appealing figure. This is particularly felt in the train scene where he's doing Dietrichson's dirty deeds. Good ol' wholesome Fred MacMurray becomes in these scenes a completely different person. With his hat drawn down, crutches ominously perched on either side and head held low, his lumbering movement is more remniscient of a Hammer Horror monster than the likable Average Joe from earlier.

Stanwyck, as can be seen in the scene below, can't help but be dark, sneaky and disruptive even in a scene where she's in hiding, trying to avoid Keyes. She's so far off the wrong end that she practically exudes darkness in every scene she's in, which is amplified by Stanwyck's performance.

Which brings me to Keyes.

Keyes, not Neff, is the true hero of the story. He's the Philip Marlowe of this tale, though he's far more open, friendly and amicable than Chandler's most famous creation. Wilder directs scenes with Robinson as Keyes in them with decidedly more vibrant energy and lighting, which fits perfectly with Robinson's portrayal of the man as a ball of constant vigilance and quick-thinking. Keyes too is shaded with hints of darkness, but where that represented the duplicity of Stanywck here Robinson employs it to make Keyes a playfully mysterious figure in many regards. He comes in and out of the plot and has a seemingly limitless, almost inhuman amount of smarts. 

Robinson is a true scene-stealer in a great film, which is the sort of role which always has the potential to infringe upon a film's greatness but here only amplifies it. Robinson is a joy to watch as Keyes whether he's debating with his 'little man' or intuition inside of him or incisively biting into attempted fraudsters, or striking up a rather beautiful friendship with Neff that's the one bright spot in the film's darkness. Keyes always seems like he's just about to crack the case with each of his monologues, making the ending of the film all the more powerful when he finds out his good friend was behind it all. 

It's a great part of a great film and essentially summarises just how accomplished Wilder was as a director in garnering great performances out of actors (this is easily the strongest trio of all his films) as well as creating such a claustraphobic and tense atmosphere while having a lot of fun with it. Wilder had yet to give his best work, but this remains a fantastic film that most filmmakers would die to have as their singular grandstanding career achievement, rather than just being another excellent notch on the post like it was for Wilder.

Wilder 1940's Ranking:

1. Double Indemnity (5/5)

2. The Lost Weekend (5/5)

3. Five Graves to Cairo (4.5/5)

4. A Foreign Affair (4/5)

5. The Emperor Waltz (3.5/5)