Billy Wilder, my favorite filmmaker

I first saw ‘The apartment’ (1960) when I was in college. Billy Wilder had just passed away, and one of my professors commented on this in class. I had heard of some of Wilder’s movies ― such as ‘Some like it hot’ (1959) and ‘Sunset Boulevard’ (1950) ― but had never really bothered watching them. Back then, Martin Scorsese or Francis Ford Coppola was as ‘classic’ as I was comfortable with. In class, I had had my share of clips of Sergei Eisenstein, Orson Welles, etc. and they were all lumped in my brain as ‘really old movies’ that were interesting only insofar as they had historical relevance.

But I was nonetheless curious about Billy Wilder. Maybe his name elicited some curiosity, as it sounded so definitive. I popped in the college department’s VHS copy of ‘The apartment,’ watched it on an 18-inch TV set, and was transfixed for two hours. It was both funny and dark, and brilliant. I was convinced that I had a new favorite movie. I later watched some more of his big hits, ‘Some like it hot’ and ‘Sunset Boulevard,’ and was impressed once more at how clever it all was. Since then I’ve seen these films a couple more times, and my appreciation has only grown.

At present, the only Wilder-directed film I haven’t seen is his first, ‘Mauvaise graine’ (1934). I think I’ve seen enough to be able to declare Billy Wilder as my favorite filmmaker.

I have little aptitude for film critiquing, but I do know what I like when I see it. What strikes me most about Wilder’s films is the implicit humor involved, no matter the subject matter. The only possible exception to this is the US War Department-commissioned ‘Death mills’ (1943), which chronicles the death and suffering of the Holocaust as it was happening. Even then, Wilder’s trademark subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) wit is present. 

Wilder opened doors when it came to dealing with the taboo. Whether it was exposing Hollywood as something beyond the glitter and glamour in ‘Sunset Boulevard,’ portraying the struggles of alcoholism in ‘The lost weekend’ (1945), or making a comedy out of prostitution in ‘Irma la douce’ (1963), you could almost sense an eagerness to delve in such topics precisely because they were spoken in hushed tones.

Not that these issues were never touched upon before. For example, Fredric March played a washed up alcoholic actor in ‘A star is born’ (1937), and Vivien Leigh played a (not as amusing) prostitute in ‘Waterloo Bridge’ (1940). But surely, Wilder has provided some of the most enduring images on these still controversial issues, to which future filmmakers aspired and continue to aspire.

‘Ace in the hole’ (1951) casts an eye on the worst of journalism, well before the era of paparazzi and reality shows, and was later loosely adapted as ‘Mad city’ (1997). ‘Stalag 17’ (1953), which won William Holden his only Academy Award, manages to amuse and uplift in ways that other prisoner-of-war movies (‘Grand illusion,’ 1937, and ‘The great escape,’ 1963) could not do so. The ease at which adultery takes place in ‘Kiss me, stupid’ (1964) is still unsettling nearly 50 years later.

Needless to say, Wilder thrived on controversial plotlines.

When censorship controls relaxed in the late 1960s, one of the first to take advantage was Wilder. In the early 1970s, he made some delightful but not exactly wholesome films such as ‘Fedora’ (1978), ‘Avanti!’ (1972) and ‘The front page’ (1974), the latter presenting the quintessential image of the Jack Lemmon-Walter Matthau duo.

The 1920s-era play ‘The front page’ was earlier adapted to film as screwball (battle of the sexes) comedies, in 1931 and as ‘His Girl Friday’ (1940), the latter starring Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell. By the time audiences were ready for a less caramelized, grittier, more direct rendition of the play, Wilder was pleased to acquiesce.

The added profanity and nudity found in Wilder’s later works was never sought in itself. You never got the sense that such additions were in order to increase sales (although they may have done so); quality of the final product was never compromised.

Wilder loved to take a metaphor, and milk it for what it was worth. Whether it’s talking about moths in ‘The major and the minor’ (1942), speed limits in ‘Double indemnity’ (1944), or bees in ‘Some like it hot,’ Wilder delighted in taking apart a commonly used phrase and abuse it beyond recognition, with a hilarious result. Even when the ensuing joke turns out to be corny, I still enjoy these moments, knowing it’s trademark Wilder.

Whether you love or hate her, it could not be denied that Audrey Hepburn owes much of her success and star-among-stars status to her early work with Wilder. Sure, ‘Roman holiday’ (1953), directed by William Wyler, was what propelled her to stardom (and an Oscar), but it was ‘Sabrina’ (1954) that proved she was not a one-hit wonder. And the ending of ‘Love in the afternoon’ (1957), co-starring Gary Cooper, is one of the most definitive scenes in all of Hollywood history.

Wilder’s two Audrey Hepburn movies contain some of his most brilliant lines/dialogue:

“A woman happy in love, she burns the soufflé; a woman unhappy in love, she forgets to turn on the oven.” (‘Sabrina’)

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Ariane (played by Hepburn, who is describing one of her many fictional lovers): He exports perfume and imports bananas. Do you realize that for one bottle of perfume, you get twelve bananas?

Mr. Flannagan (played by Cooper): Twelve bananas for one bottle of ― doesn’t sound like such a hot deal to me.

Ariane: It’s a tiny bottle of perfume and very large bananas.

('Love in the afternoon')

Before he attained success as a director, Wilder had to make a name as a screenwriter. One could only wonder at how the final products of ‘Ninotchka’ (1939, dir. Ernst Lubitsch) or ‘Ball of fire’ (1941, dir. Howard Hawks) would have differed had Wilder been at the helm all the way through. As it is, these efforts gave Paramount the confidence to entrust Wilder with directing his screenplays.

Early on as a writer, there were already glimpses of the groundbreaking filmmaker to come. For example, ‘Hold back the dawn’ (1941) is told as a flashback to an executive of Paramount Pictures, and this self-reference was used to greater effect in ‘Sunset Boulevard.’

It’s amazing to see how Wilder shifted from writing really good screwballs in the early 1930s, to directing noir-esque films in the 1940s, only to establish himself for good as a comedy filmmaker from the mid-1950s onwards. This speaks of his versatility, of which only few others could boast.

It would be unfair to credit Wilder alone for the greatness of his films. In all of these movies, he had co-writers, most notably Charles Brackett ― whom he split with on creative differences after ‘Sunset Boulevard’ ― and I.A.L. Diamond. It would be pointless to discern what elements in each of Wilder’s movies are due to the input of these other collaborators, so the best we can do is keep in mind that moviemaking is not a one-man show. Apart from his co-writers and co-producers, the quality of Wilder’s films is due to the excellent casting, which makes for fine performances by the actors. 

Wilder’s works from the 1970s onward remain for the most part underrated. But this is no fault of Wilder’s, in fact the opposite ― he had created so many earlier masterpieces, that what follows could not possibly match up to the public’s expectations. Also, by then, it was a newer breed of filmmakers that dominated box offices. It was just appropriate for Wilder to surrender the reins to this new breed, themselves owing a debt of gratitude to Wilder, whether or not they knew it.

‘The apartment’ is still my favorite Wilder movie. It was just the right alignment of stars. Fred MacMurray, who starred in ‘Double indemnity’ 16 years earlier, lends a hand to the relative newcomers Shirley MacLaine, whom I believe to be one of the greatest actresses ever, and Jack Lemmon, whose comedic style is simply unparalleled. The spontaneity of the plot seems so natural, and it does not come as a surprise to find MacLaine stating in one of her books that Wilder was still in the process of writing the script as they were going along in production. Unbelievable.

In cinema, there are few directors whom I make it a point to view all, or most, of their films. The short list includes Wilder, Preston Sturges (another early writer-director in the golden age of cinema), Alfred Hitchcock, William Wyler, Ernst Lubitsch, and to a lesser extent, Howard Hawks and George Cukor. Of all these master storytellers, Billy Wilder is at the top, by far.

I believe that I will continue to go back to Billy Wilder for years and years, with the same enthusiasm as when I first watched him two feet away from a tiny screen. This is not to the prejudice of the many excellent and highly enjoyable films that come out today, which owe their style and form in some way to my favorite filmmaker. Time will tell whether these contemporary movies will hold up as Billy Wilder’s films have done so.