Point Blank (1967)

  The gangster genre is endemic of American culture. In the history of film the advent of sound coincided with the rise in popularity of the gangster picture. The possibility of hearing the bang of a gun and the screams of its victims offered a new level of reality that lurid still photos and trashy tabloid articles could only report about. Of course as lionized as gangsters were the public's opinion of them could easily turn once the gangster character showed his true face; that of a thief, an exploiter, and at times a murderer.

  After the 1930's the gangster was relegated to being a stock villain. Although the gangster still embodied the skewed American dream, to come from nothing and acquire everything through the barrel of a gun, the character was more often than not a caricature of their previous self. The term gangster itself had become a word used to describe any tough talking character in a film.

  By 1967 the country was a different place and the values that screen gangsters once held could no longer sustain them during that tumultuous decade. John Boorman took a simple premise, a man on a quest to get back the money owed to him, and took apart the pieces that make a gangster picture a gangster picture and reconstituted it into an avant-garde exercise in genre expectations.

  Over the years Boorman has said many things about the film, Point Blank. He has called the film a story about one man's quest for humanity. A comment made to illustrate the importance of casting Lee Marvin in the role of Walker. Fans of Lee Marvin may not be aware, but the actor had enlisted as a soldier when he was only seventeen and served as a sniper. By the time he came back from the war he had seen so much death and pain that he drifted aimlessly from several menial jobs till his work as a plumber's apprentice in a community theater in upstate New York landed him a role in one of their productions. He soon moved to Manhattan and began appearing in several off-Broadway plays. By 1950 Marvin transitioned into film and because of his years in military service he was cast in several war dramas. Most of his film work before he got cast in Point Blank was a career spent playing violent despicable men.

  When Boorman presented Marvin with a draft of the script Lee Marvin was fascinated with the character of Walker. It is easy to see what drew him to the project. The character of Walker is a gentle sweet man whose loyalty to his friend lands him in a criminal quagmire. Just as Marvin was transformed by the violence he witnessed in war Walker is transformed by the gunshot he receives from Mal Reese, a man he called his friend.

  In the film Walker is a spirit of violence. After his betrayal he is reborn as vengeance personified stomping through a fluorescent-lit corridor his footsteps reverberating from the long empty hallway towards locations unknown. He is on a quest to get the money owed to him, but the money is not what Walker is really after. Walker is after a sense of peace, a resolution that will end the pain and anger he feels for having his idyllic life shattered.

  It is very important to note that Walker never kills anyone in the film. He may be a spirit of violence and in fact he viciously beats up several people in the picture, but he never directly kills them. Be it Lynne, his wife, Mal, his so-called best friend, or the various underlings that Walker must deal with to get his money somebody else has their finger on the trigger. Walker is merely a facilitator in their demise. He gets them to be in just the right place at just the right time to meet the bullet.

  As you watch the film it is clearly evident that a theme that Boorman has running throughout the entire picture is the clash between the traditional and the modern. The movie itself opens with a series of elliptical shots, something very unusual for a gangster picture, a stock Hollywood genre. Our first glimpses of Walker are not of a vicious killer but rather of a man who is a victim of fate, being brutally shot in a tiny cell. Next we see him trapped in a crowded room of men, drunk, and struggling to keep on his feet. Then all of a sudden a man yells out Walker's name and lunges at him. Walker and the man, who we find out is his friend Mal, fall and Mal pins Walker to the ground pleading for help. From these first few minutes in the film audiences in 1967 expecting a typical reliable Hollywood film must have been utterly floored by Boorman's audacity to open the film the way he did.

  Also whereas in previous gangster pictures the homo-erotic undercurrent was subtle so as not to upset the censors Boorman pushes the boundaries and makes Walker's relationship with Mal blatantly homo-erotic, adding new layers to Mal's betrayal. The relationship between the two men is equivalent to that of a classic Hollywood screen gangster's relationship to his moll. The character of Mal is weak and throughout the film he turns to various men for help. Mal preys on Walker's innate loyalty to him, he seduces Walker by reminding him of old times together. When Boorman cuts to flashbacks of Walker and Mal together he has those scenes mimic that of Walker and his wife's courtship. It is obvious that there is some sort of attraction between these two men, and it is Mal's betrayal that hurts Walker more than his own wife's.

  Although Walker must contend with several members of organized crime his real opponent maybe modern life itself. The gangsters in this film are car salesmen, accountants, and CEOs. Basically organized crime had gone corporate and as tough as Walker is this new efficient businesslike manner within organized crime is completely foreign to him. Even his quest for the money owed to him seems out of place within the context of the story. Walker, a spirit of violence, can only comprehend the world through what is tangible; he wants to be paid in cash not check and he cuts a swath of violence in an effort to get to the head of the organization only to find that in the new corporate criminal empire their isn't a singular boss that one can approach. When a job needs to be done the rule is to delegate the task to somebody else who in turn hands over the responsibility to someone below him. This is the antithesis of who Walker is. Walker is a man of action.He does not delegate he attacks and will not relent until he gets what's owed to him.

  The film's simple premise of a man out to get the money owed to him offered John Boorman and Lee Marvin the opportunity to explore the ideas that many people held to be true. By the time of the film's release daily life had become more mechanical. Society shifted to that of the corporate world which is cold and inhuman, where power is valued more than the lives of a few people. In this new paradigm every person, place, and thing is cataloged and shelved until their services are needed. We have relinquished control of our lives to a small group of corporate board members in exchange for cheap pleasures. We gobble up whatever new gadget or toy they throw at us and we gladly ask for more stuff to clutter our lives with. By the end of the film Walker just vanishes, his money only a few yards away, but he dare not touch it. For in a world where profit is the only way to measure a man then those who value truth and loyalty can only exist as ghosts. 

Ed Wood (1994)

  Unbridled optimism is a trait that has long been ridiculed by the public. It is a trait that is usually used as comic fodder in films; something to laugh at and oftentimes looked upon as the refuge of the simpleton. Of course cynicism itself is no better; it has become, for many, a defense mechanism to ease the pain of daily living. Ed Wood is a celebration of a man whose ideas exceeded his talents. Edward D. Wood, Jr. would go down in movie history as the world's worst director of all time, and his film Plan 9 from Outer Space the worst movie ever made. And yet what has contributed to his work getting more attention now than when they were first released is the fact that although the pictures he made were of varying quality you could tell that an enthusiast was behind the camera putting together the various pieces that make up a film, even if all those pieces didn't come together so neatly.

  Tim Burton took directorial reins on Ed Wood for several reasons. The first being that he was already a fan of the director's work; drawn in by the fact that no matter what project Wood was working on he treated the material as if it were Citizen Kane. As a result of Burton's admiration for Wood's work the film has an obvious bias; portraying Ed Wood not as a delusional hack but rather as a sincere artist. The second reason Burton had for directing was the relationship Wood had with Bela Lugosi which mirrored the relationship Burton had with Vincent Price. And finally after reading the script, penned by Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski, Burton saw the film as an opportunity to make a character-driven film as opposed to one distinguished by visual flourishes.

  As a character-driven film it is on the actor's shoulders to breath life into the story and Johnny Depp delivers in every scene he's in. Depp studied Andy Hardy, Mickey Rooney, Ronald Reagen, and Casey Kasem to bring the character of Ed Wood to life. He carefully balances Wood's trademark blind optimism with his sexual quirks and manages to always keep the audience on his side. As we watch Depp play the character of Ed Wood we never slip and laugh at him. It is to Johnny Depp's credit that what could have turned into a very unfunny caricature of the director never does. Wood's sexual proclivity for dressing in women's clothing is treated not as a punch-line to a cliche joke, but just a matter-of-fact detail about Edward Wood's life.

  The meat of the film deals with Wood's relationship with Bela Lugosi, played by Martin Landau. These two men each believe that the other can help their careers, but in actuality it is their friendship and not their business partnership which has the most value for both men. Landau plays Bela as a man who aches for another chance at stardom and you believe that he may just get that opportunity. Bela, even in his 60's, never lost the ability to frighten people with a stare or subtle hand gesture. As Lugosi tells Wood during their first meeting, "The pure horror, it both repels, and attracts them, because in their collective unconsciousness, they have the agony of childbirth. The blood. The blood is horror." With that statement Lugosi gets to the heart of not just why the horror genre has always been popular, but also the fact that fear is a drug that the human race has been addicted to since we began to walk upright.

  Other important people in Ed's story are the various women in his life. The two most important being Dolores Fuller, his girlfriend at the start of the film, and Kathy O'Hara, the woman who would become his wife by the end of the movie. Although Sarah Jessica Parker's portrayal of Dolores has been criticized as shrill and unpleasant she is quite supportive of Ed and her demands aren't at all unreasonable. In fact her only mistake in the movie is being the voice of reason in a story populated by people completely entranced by the magic of film. Kathy on the other hand is wholly accepting of Ed and Patricia Arquette plays Kathy as the embodiment of Ed's optimism. Whereas many people in Ed's group might question his choices Kathy not only goes along with Ed, but she goes out of here way to feed his enthusiasm.

  Edward D. Wood, Jr. was somebody who wasn't that concerned about what movie he was making, but rather just having the opportunity to make a film was what thrilled him. When he was in the process of directing there would be two things that he was never without, his megaphone and a boyish grin on his face. And that was basically who Ed Wood is in Tim Burton's film; a boy who still believed that all you needed to make a movie was a good idea and a crew of people who shared your excitement for the project.

Sunset Boulevard (1950)

  How do you classify a film that is equal parts comedy and tragedy? Can you even call it comedy if you cringe a bit after the laughter dies out? With Sunset Boulevard Billy Wilder utilizes his acerbic wit to knock down the glamour mask of Hollywood and show it as the grotesque and decaying whorehouse that it really is. Of course Wilder knew that by taking on Hollywood he would basically be biting the hand that fed him. A hand that had garnered him several Oscar nominations, a very healthy paycheck, and also the resources to create his brilliant pessimistic work. Yet as caustic as Sunset Boulevard is one can't help notice that the film is not so much an attack on the entertainment industry, but rather it is a dedication to all the shattered dreams that Hollywood has left in its wake.

  As broad a topic as Hollywood is Wilder concentrates his story on two people, a once great silent screen actress and a down on his luck screenwriter. These two couldn't be any more different from each other, but they do accurately represent a majority of people in the entertainment industry. You are either trying to get your foot in the door or struggling to not get pushed out.

  The silent screen actress, Norma Desmond, is played by Gloria Swanson who in real life had enjoyed success as an actress during the silent era and although she did make the transition into talkies her career never did take off like it had before. Swanson's portrayal of Norma Desmond is a combination of vampire, self-delusional actress, and possessive lover. Desmond lives in a mansion gaudily decorated and surrounded with constant reminders of her days as a star. Norma is careful to always surround herself with people and things that reaffirm her belief that she is still a star. Her self delusion is a means to protect herself from the reality that she is now merely a footnote in Hollywood history.

  William Holden, on the other hand, plays Joe Gillis as a man of desperation who exploits Norma from their very first meeting. Gillis is a man that has been chewed up and spit out by the Hollywood machine and sees Norma as a means to get back at least some monetary recoupment for all the indignities he has suffered. Yet his plan to milk Norma for all he could quickly falls to pieces. The longer he stays in her mansion as a pawn in her delusions of stardom the tighter Norma's insanity coils around Gillis till finally there is no escape from the inevitable.

  Joe Gillis and Norma Desmond's co-dependent affair as twisted as it was had started out as a mutually agreeable arrangement. Their affair did not grow so much from an emotional need to be together, but rather a more down to earth reason. Joe needed cash and Norma was starved for attention and companionship. Their arrangement could have technically continued for an indefinite amount of time. It is only when Joe starts to spend time with Betty Schaefer, a script reader played by Nancy Olson, that there affair starts to crumble. Joe's feelings for Betty although sincere can never be fully realized because he has entrenched himself so deeply in Norma's reality that Joe has become a male version of Norma. Whereas Norma deludes herself into believing that she is still a star; Joe pretends to stick around Norma for the money but in reality he sees his situation with Norma as an escape.

  Like many of Wilder's protagonists Joe Gillis is trapped in his job. His arrangement with Norma maybe yet another trap but at least he can wear the best suits, take a refreshing swim in her pool whenever he wants, and Joe Gillis is basically the center of Norma Desmond's world. He only leaves its comforts after having to admit to Betty and subsequently himself just what type of man he really is. And although Norma shoots Joe due to the threat of her having to face the sad truth of her situation if he left her; Joe goads her to shot him because of his unwillingness to go back to the harsh reality of the world outside of the mansion.

  Sunset Boulevard tackles as its subject opportunism and the consequences of trying to have a career in an industry that feeds on desperation. Billy Wilder knew that all success is fleeting, and in a business where you are only as good as your last film anybody who congratulates you on all your success today maybe clutching a knife ready to stab you in the back the next day.

Double Indemnity (1944)

"Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money and for a woman. I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it?"

  The allure of tabloid scandals and media sensationalism has now become the norm. So-called journalists spend entire days sifting through the refuse of human society trying to find a story that will keep viewers glued to their TVs. This insatiable hunger is fed by a constant flood of celebrity updates and lurid tales of human death and degeneracy.

  For James M. Cain when he was writing his book, Double Indemnity, he looked back towards his previous life as a news reporter to help spark an idea in him. The story he would use would be that of Ruth Snyder, an icy blonde, who had managed to convince her lover, Judd Gray, to bludgeon and strangle her husband to death. She was caught though and put on trial. The press labeled her a "Tiger Woman", a derogatory term used to describe the new type of woman springing up in society that shunned house work and embraced the flapper lifestyle. Cain was fascinated by her story and used it as the basis for his novel.

  In 1943 Billy Wilder was primarily known as a screenwriter. Although he had directed a few films that were considered financially successful he had not yet established his rightful place as one of the preeminent American directors. Wilder's risk to take Cain's sleazy novel and turn it into a film alienated him from many in the movie industry who thought that the story and characters would never pass the censor boards. His gamble paid off though and Wilder accomplished the impossible by turning a trashy cynical story about adultery, corruption, and murder into that rare thing called art.

"It was a hot afternoon, and I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that street. How could I have known that murder can sometimes smell like honeysuckle? Maybe you would have known Keyes the minute she mentioned accident insurance, but I didn't. I felt like a million."

  Wilder's penchant need to work with a writing partner may ultimately have contributed to making him such a great director. When it came to making films Billy Wilder always tried to surround himself with the best. During pre-production for Double Indemnity Wilder looked towards Cain to help him adapt the book, but since Cain was already contracted out to another studio Wilder turned elsewhere.

  Raymond Chandler had made his name writing detective fiction and gained a reputation for crafting tough and fast stories about tarnished knight errants. Although Chandler had no experience in screenwriting Wilder was confident that Chandler's way with words would elevate the film's dialogue. Chandler's stylized dialogue moved at machine gun speeds and never shied away from sexual double entendres.

"That was all there was to it. Nothing had slipped, nothing had been overlooked, there was nothing to give us away. And yet, Keyes, as I was walking down the street to the drugstore, suddenly it came over me that everything would go wrong. It sounds crazy, Keyes, but it's true, so help me. I couldn't hear my own footsteps. It was the walk of a dead man."

  Because of the unsavory subject matter that the movie deals with, Wilder had a lot of trouble finding actors to be in the film. Wilder was so desperate that he turned to actor George Raft for the part of Walter Neff. During there meeting though Raft refused to read the script and ordered Wilder to tell him the story. As Wilder dictated the story to him, Raft eventually ordered Wilder to "get to the lapel scene." Confused by Raft's request Wilder  asked him what "lapel scene" was he talking about. Raft, apparently believed, that by the end of the story the audience would find out that his character was really a cop and arrests Phyllis Dietrichson. After that meeting Wilder felt completely dejected and believed that the movie would never get made.

  The part of Walter Neff would eventually be played by Fred MacMurray, a sometimes musician and actor who made his name in Disney comedies. MacMurray's non-threatening good looks work to the advantage of the story. Neff is not an inherently evil character, but rather just a bored one. He decides to help Phyllis kill her husband not because he needs the insurance money, but rather because he is tired of the daily grind.

  Phyllis, on the other hand, is a killer. Phyllis ensnares men into her trap and manipulates them to do her bidding. Barbara Stanwyck as Phyllis is a powerful character. Wilder and Chandler arm her with typical garish female visual signifiers; e.g. anklet, lipstick, angora sweater, wig; but it is Stanwyck who makes it all work and also imbues the character with a strength that most of the male characters in the story lack.

  The only real friendship that Neff has in the story is with the claims manager, Keyes, at the insurance company. Edward G. Robinson plays Keyes as a man who lives and breaths facts and statistics; unlike Neff he does not allow his emotions to make decisions for him. Thus it hurts even more by the end of the story when he finds that Neff, his only friend in the company, is Phyllis's accomplice.

"Just like the first time I came here, isn't it? We were talking about automobile insurance, only you were thinking about murder. And I was thinking about that anklet."

  John Seitz, the film's director of photography, was integral in establishing the look of the film. He had the idea to mix silver dust with some subtle smoke effects to create dramatic shafts of light that cut through the Dietrichson home. Also with this film Seitz establishes the use of "Venetian blind" lighting giving any room the appearance of bars which seem to trap the characters in their schemes.

  Double Indemnity elevated Billy Wilder's status in the film industry, yet the film is really a product of many artists not just one person. The very casual way in which sex and death are so entwined was quite ahead of most of the film's being made back then. The film doesn't ask you to like any of the characters, instead it challenges you to realize that every person is susceptible to corruption even those with the best intentions.

City for Conquest (1940)

  As the infrastructure of New York City is in a constant process of evolving, one thing that it never runs a risk of having too little of are wide-eyed hopefuls. There is something about the city that draws people onto that thin strip of land and endure the kind of hard scrabble living that has crushed many a weak individual. It may be that the hardships one has to bear to just survive in that town fuels the type of art and artists that can define a specific generation or movement. When you come to New York the goal is to make it big; wanting anything less would just be cheating yourself out of a God-given destiny to be a star.

  In Anatole Litvak's film City for Conquest not only is New York City elevated to the status of being the only American city that matters, but it also offers us a window into the lives of three of its most ambitious inhabitants. James Cagney plays Danny Kenny, a boxer, whose talent for fighting is matched only by his love for the girl of his dreams, Peggy Nash. Ann Sheridan, in the role of Peggy, is the girl next door who wishes to see her name in lights. And finally the third character is Danny's brother Eddie, played by Arthur Kennedy, who tries to parlay his musical talent into a viable career.

  The great debate within the film is the struggle of values vs. ambition. Each of the three main characters starts the film off with a certain set of ideals. Danny only boxes so that he can pay for his brother's tuition, Peggy is content dancing in neighborhood contests, and Eddie quietly works on his own musical compositions while giving piano lessons to neighborhood kids. As the film progresses each of these characters runs up against an individual who exploits their ambitions and each of them gets corrupted by their own personal desires.

  Although Peggy is content to dance in small dance halls she dreams of seeing her name in lights and the pull of celebrity soon corrupts her till she eventually goes from having her name at the top of a marquee to dancing for a burlesque show. Eddie works at being a legitimate composer, but the desire for recognition has him churning out Broadway pop songs. Danny, on the other hand, is the most unambitious character in the story. All he is after is a simple life with Peggy and sees being at the top of his sport as the only way to get her back.

  Each of the three characters sells themselves for transitory pleasures, and in the case of Danny and Peggy are left with nothing. The only good thing to come from all their suffering is that Peggy finally returns to Danny and he, in turn, is granted what he had originally wanted, a simple life with Peggy. Eddie is the only one who comes out of the story relatively unscathed and also triumphant. His brother's brutal beating and subsequent blindness in the ring causes him to reassess exactly what his real priorities are.  

  The film's use of process shots and on-location footage of New York creates a very romanticized view of the city. Anatole Litvak, with some uncredited work by Jean Negulesco, presents a city where even if your dreams don't come true you can at least fall back on your friends for support. The New York in this film may not have ever really existed, but you can't fault them for tapping into the audience's belief that even if you don't achieve the goals you have set out for yourself, by the mere fact that you have survived is an achievement unto itself.

Romance & Cigarettes (2005)

  The story is simple. Told and retold by various artists from every country and decade. Romance & Cigarettes is about the folly of the male libido. It charts how one man's sexual proclivities drag him deeper into humiliating circumstances till finally the specter of death grants him one chance to repent. Nick Murder, played by James Gandolfini, is a man who cheats on his wife for the most common reason their is, boredom. Nick's home life is relatively uncomplicated and Gandolfini eschews the obvious masculine trotting that many actors in that role would have played up, and instead brings out the comic pathos of a man suffering from the insecurity that the measure of a man's virility is the number of women he can bed.

  Nick Murder is a character that wouldn't be uncommon in a Greek tragedy. He is doomed even before the story has started. As his wife and mother remind him, he comes from a long line of whoremasters. He is a man with compromised values believing in the idea of love, but not quite able to express his love in a proper way. Nick is drowning in his own vulgarity; reducing romance into a few sexual acts. It is interesting to note that his wife, Kitty, played by Susan Sarandon, and his mistress, Tula, played by Kate Winslet, are both redheads, very outspoken, and each has a job connected in some way to the making and/or selling of female garments. Tula works in a lingerie shop and Kitty is a seamstress who specializes in wedding gowns.

  Although Tula is shown to be crude, cheap, and unrefined she is really more of a victim of her emotions. For Nick, being with Tula fulfills in him a typical male fantasy of being with a woman more than willing to fulfill every sexual fantasy he could think of. She's willing to talk dirty to him, contort her body into whatever sexual position he wants, and even more importantly she seems to want nothing for it, or at least that's what Nick thinks. For as we see in a flashback sequence Tula expresses to Nick her sincere feelings for him. She genuinely loves him; she isn't naive and her attraction towards him is not so much based on his physical appearance. Tula mistakes Nick's amorous intentions and his circumcising his penis as declarations of his love for her. The reality of the situation though is that he is merely doing what he believes will keep her from getting bored with him.

  In a completely opposite spectrum Kitty is Nick's long-suffering wife. She is neglected and relegated to household chores. She has given up much of her own life to basically take care of Nick and their three daughters and although she hates him for what he has done to her Kitty can't just throw all those years away. For Kitty, it's not so much that Nick had sex with Tula, but of all the attention he shows her. It might have been in bad taste to write vulgar personal notes to her and get himself circumcised, but it is more attention than Kitty has received from him in years.

  John Turturro, the film's writer and director, came up with the idea for the film more than ten years ago when he was working on the Coen brothers film Barton Fink and over the years built the script up slowly working on scene after scene till they all fit beautifully together. Turturro has labeled his film as a "musical of the common man" and, in my opinion, more aptly as a "homemade musical" since the soundtrack for the film avoids the usual orchestral or composer specific score. The soundtrack instead reads like a mixtape proudly flaunting songs by Englebert Humperdink, Dusty Springfield, Connie Francis, Cyndi Lauper, Bruce Springsteen, and many more. And even during the musical sequences Turturro has the original song recording mixed in with the actor's voices; making it seem like we are catching the characters in a cathartic moment trying to exorcise their emotional demons through song and dance.

  The characters in the film express what they feel through the only way they can, through pop songs. Music is a form of transportation for them because they can't afford to go and travel. They must use the materials of television, movies, music, and pop culture to manufacture their dreams. With this film Turturro is commenting on the fact that we are all guilty, to varying degrees, of viewing reality through the prism of pop culture. The people and products that the media and advertisers bombard us with on a daily basis form our own ideas about who we are. To prefer one type of food snack over another, to idolize over a specific band, or praise a film that many people have ignored is making just as powerful a personal statement as saying you were a Democrat or a Republican.

The Apartment (1960)

  When using the medium of film to explore an idea or to tell a story an obstacle that can trip up many directors and screenwriters is how to not get stuck in cliches and to capture something as transitory as the truth. Billy Wilder built a career as a dissector of American social norms and taboos, and in the process gained a reputation for making entertaining films that had an acerbic bite.

  After challenging the censors with his gender-bending comedy, Some Like It Hot, Wilder decided to take on corporate culture with The Apartment. Combining comedy with drama Wilder not only makes the bittersweet film more palatable to an audience not accustomed to his brand of cynicism, but he also upturns the ingrained belief that the main prerogative of getting ahead supersedes our duty to be a mensch.

  The genesis for the movie can be credited to a one-act play by Noel Coward entitled Still Life which was later made into a film, Brief Encounter, by David Lean. Wilder took a minor character from the story, a man who loans out his apartment to the couple in the film so that they can continue their affair, and builds his own unique story from it.

  Like many of Billy Wilder's best films The Apartment opens with a voice-over narration by C.C. Baxter, played by Jack Lemmon, who rattles off a few facts about his job, his life, and more importantly his apartment. This narration plays over a beautiful aerial shot of Manhattan which is eventually interrupted when the camera cuts to the offices of Consolidated Life.

  The first image we get of C.C. Baxter is that of a worker bee trapped in a cold, cavernous, and antiseptic hive. This shot was done in homage to King Vidor's silent film The Crowd, which is also about an ambitious office worker that struggles to not get swallowed up by his soul crushing job.

  Throughout most of the film Jack Lemmon portrays Baxter as a quiet unassuming milquetoast. You can't help but feel bad for a character who lives the bachelor lifestyle but enjoys none of its amenities. The office managers on his floor dangle the executive wash room key in front of him as a way to gain access to his place for their sexual dalliances but all Baxter is ever left with is an apartment littered with empty liquor bottles and neighbors who look upon him with an equal measure of disgust and jealousy, believing that Baxter is some sort of playboy bedding a new woman every night.

  As pathetic as Baxter is, it is impossible to ignore the fact that he is a willing accomplice to upper management's abuse of power. His shortcut to the executive wash room may yield him a few pats on the back, but ultimately he is the main culprit for all his misery. The main reason why the character escapes complete derision from the audience is because of Jack Lemmon's performance. Billy Wilder looked to Lemmon to play the role of C.C. Baxter because he exuded an "average but mischievous" vibe. When you watch Jack Lemmon on screen as C.C. Baxter you aren't seeing an actor plying his trade but rather a man just being.

  Another very important element to the film's success is Shirley MacLaine who plays Fran Kubelik, an elevator operator and love interest for C.C. Baxter. Described by I.A.L. Diamond, Wilder's co-writer on the film, as being "sexy, funny, sad" MacLaine never takes the easy route by portraying Fran as a victim. Unlike most of the female characters in the film Fran is not a caricature. You don't objectify her like you do the women that Baxter's bosses bring to his apartment. Both Fran and Baxter suffer from the pangs of loneliness. While Baxter tries to fill that void with delusions of corporate advancement Fran hitches her wagon to Jeff D. Sheldrake, portrayed by Fred MacMurray, who she engages in an illicit affair with before the start of the film.

  By the start of the film though their relationship is already at its death throes. Fran's later suicide attempt is incited not so much by her relationship with Sheldrake being over, but by her realization that she allowed somebody to exploit her need for sincere human contact.

  As Fran recuperates at Baxter's apartment they unwittingly start to play house. They fall into their roles quite easily and both characters seem to finally let down their guard. Their game of house shatters Baxter's misplaced belief that attaining the props of success, e.g. a big office, access to the executive wash room, will guarantee him happiness. This epiphany of course comes at a very big price. Although Wilder gives us what we want at the end, Fran and Baxter together, the last line of the film leaves a bitter taste in our mouths. Since happiness in all its forms is fragile their future together is uncertain, but maybe they can make it work.