Just elegant

Billy Wilder crafted some of the 20th century's most memorable movies from a smart, silky mix of cynicism and sentiment. But above all he wielded the power of the word.

By STEVE PERSALL, Times Film Critic

© St. Petersburg Times
published April 1, 2002

They must be somewhere in the Los Angeles home where Billy Wilder died of pneumonia last week. Stashed in a drawer or closet, waiting to be uncovered.

Don't tell me that one of the finest screenwriters ever to grace Hollywood passed away at 95 without leaving some typically clever final words behind. His instincts as a director wouldn't permit a fadeout without one last kicker.

Wilder's sharp wit -- William Holden claimed he had "a mind full of razor blades" -- always knew how to end a movie: Joe E. Brown chirping "Nobody's perfect!" when his cross-dressing crush Jack Lemmon finally admits manhood in Some Like It Hot, or demented Norma Desmond calling for her closeup in Sunset Boulevard.

Lots of characters in Billy Wilder's movies had juicy exits. Maybe he wrote one for himself.

Or maybe he just decided to let his films do the talking -- and what robust language they contain. Wilder was a German-speaking immigrant who never felt entirely comfortable with the English language, so he collaborated with American writers. Yet, few filmmakers ever impressed such a speaking style into America's consciousness: snappy patter laced with irony long before Jerry Seinfeld made irony cool. Seinfeld, like most baby boomers, learned it from Hawkeye Pierce.

Hawkeye Pierce, in a manner of speaking, learned it from Billy Wilder.

In Wilder's world, steely women didn't pray, because "Kneeling bags my nylons," and corpses narrated from the grave, noting "how gentle people get with you once you're dead." Dream girls strutted like Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch or plotted honeysuckle-scented murder like Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indemnity, although seldom sexier than they were smart when the chips were down.

Men they tempted and taught were weasels, opportunists and cheats who eventually find redemption through love or fear or, in the case of Sunset Boulevard's gigolo narrator, death. At first glance, they were irredeemable, getting the squeeze they deserved, leading many viewers to believe that Wilder's cynicism was getting in the way.

"He's not a cynic," Wilder confidante and filmmaker Cameron Crowe told an interviewer in 1999. "He's perceived that way, but he reminds me of my grandfather, a sharp observer, fiercely protective of the things he loves, wide open to life and curious to the end. And he believes, with narrowed eyes, in the best of people first. That's Billy Wilder."

Such comments redeem Wilder the same way he always made his heroes look better by the end of the movie. Amoral beginnings and clumsy coverups led to what passed for happy endings. Truth always won out, even if it choked the character delivering it. Wilder's favorite writing partner, I.A.L. Diamond, called it a sense of "disappointed romanticism . . . whipped cream that's gotten slightly curdled."

The attitude that made him daring in the 1940s and 1950s became obsolete for audiences almost overnight when amorality became more common. Critics trashed and audiences shunned his last film, the 1981 hired-killer comedy Buddy, Buddy with Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau, charging that Wilder was out of touch with the times. The film's edge, nastier than usual for the filmmaker, may have been closer to the world's pulse than anyone wanted to admit then.

His response to complainers was vintage Wilder: "Who wants to be in touch with times like these?"

In later years, Wilder became the eldest statesman for a bygone Hollywood, still big while the pictures got smaller around him. Except with regard to special effects, in which Wilder had no interest; therefore, studios had no interest in him. "I couldn't do that," he told an interviewer in 1996. "I quit smoking because I couldn't reload my Zippo.'

But Wilder's influence can still be found in the zippy dialogue exchanges, bittersweet sentiment and pure cinematic instincts of more intimate, contemporary filmmakers.

Watch Crowe's films Jerry Maguire and Almost Famous again and appreciate the fact that he learned many of his best lessons from the master, often calling upon Wilder for advice. Their sensibilities would seem to be at odds: Crowe's smiley-face romanticism and Wilder's silky grit. But they bonded early, leading Crowe to compile the invaluable journal Conversations With Wilder in 1999.

Remember the next time you enjoy a Billy Bob Thornton movie that Wilder was the guy who told Thornton he's too ugly to be an actor, so he should write a screenplay for himself to capitalize on that. The result was Thornton's breakthrough, an Oscar-winning script about a grotesque simpleton in Sling Blade. "He listens well," Wilder said later.

Perhaps the best indicator of Wilder's influence is how often his films are still mentioned by reviewers, usually while unfavorably comparing modern films with similar themes. Nobody makes a movie about men in drag without being held up to Some Like It Hot. Anyone who believes Leaving Las Vegas is a daring portrayal of alcoholism should consider The Lost Weekend within the context of 1945 mores. Corporate deceit? Check into The Apartment. World War II prisoner of war camps? Two words: Stalag 17.

Directing, however, was more of a protective measure for Wilder, to shield his scripts from meddling studio executives. Admittedly, he handled a typewriter better than a camera, despite two Academy Awards for directing The Lost Weekend and The Apartment. Wilder precisely planned his films, avoiding multiple takes so there wouldn't be much extra footage to tinker with, sacrificing the ingenuity of slicker directors. Words always took precedence over action.

There must be more of Wilder's words to enjoy. Some kind of sendoff line that Milton Berle and Dudley Moore might wish they had thought of first. Wilder wouldn't have died without leaving one last belly laugh, or at least another rueful smile, would he?

Oh, well. Nobody's perfect.

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