Casablanca as a Relic of World War II

There have been many films detailing World War II from a variety of different perspectives, but many of the best known films were made after the war ended. Movies like Saving Private Ryan and Das Boot were even made decades after the war ended. Many of these films therefore have a very retroactive perspective on the war. A film like Saving Private Ryan, made in the 1990's, depicts the war as it is perceived by filmmakers looking back on what happened. This is what makes a film like Michael Curtiz's Casablanca stand out from the others.

Unlike many other iconic war films, Casablanca was released in 1943 while the war was still happening. Many have noted how the film is a thinly-veiled allegory for America's reluctance to join the war effort, but it is also an incredible historical document on the grounds that it offers insight into the war from a contemporary standpoint. In other words, to understand Casablanca is to understand how World War II would have been perceived while it was still happening. In some ways, the film is rather progressive for the era, presenting not only a strong female lead but also also providing work for a black actor in Sam, a character who is treated with respect throughout.

Casablanca's obvious dislike for the Nazis also makes it a very agreeable film today, largely because most people today would agree that the Nazis were horrible people who needed to be stopped. However, on some level the film's depictions of the Nazis has not aged so well. This is most notable through the fact that the film continues to mention "concentration camps" despite seemingly not knowing what the term actually means. Victor Lazlo claims to have been held in a "concentration camp" and the characters speak of the danger of being thrown into "concentration camps" but judging by the dialogue it sounds more like they are speaking of Nazi political prisons than actual concentration camps.

A Nazi political prison would not have been much better, but it is still very different from a concentration camp. The former would have been a place for political prisoners, i.e. anyone who defied the Nazis. The latter was a term used to describe multiple horrific camps designed specifically for killing entire groups of people in massive numbers at a time. To provide a more cinematic analogy, imagine a contrast between Robert Bresson's A Man Escaped and Steven Spielberg's Schindler's List. The term "concentration camp" as used by the characters in Casablanca would today describe something one might expect to see in Schindler's List, a film about the Holocaust, but what is described sounds more like the type of prison depicted in A Man Escaped.

When seen today, the apparent misuse of the word "concentration camp" looks like a blatant oversight on the part of the filmmakers, but it does illustrate the mindset of a very different era. The actions of the Nazis are currently public knowledge. Thanks to the internet it is very easy to find photographs of concentration camps, and most people at some point in their lives get at the very least a general idea of the atrocities committed during the Holocaust, an event now remembered as one of history's darkest moments. However, this was not always the case, and much of what may be common knowledge today was not so obvious in 1943.

While the war was still going on, the actions of the Nazi party were in large part kept secret. For obvious reasons Hitler did not want the public to know about the ethically questionable activities that were going on behind closed doors, and this included the Holocaust. Any contemporary information on it outside of what was known only to the Nazi party would have been vague at best. All anyone really knew was that Hitler had a list of people to be "relocated" and that there were serious consequences for anyone who tried to hide a person who fit the list. Nobody would have known for sure precisely what happened to those people once they were taken. It was only at the end of the war in 1945, when Allied forces invaded Germany and discovered the concentration camps, that the public became aware of the mass genocide that was really going on.

The reason a phrase like "concentration camp" is so heavily used in the wrong context in Casablanca is literally because the filmmakers obviously did not know what it meant and misunderstood its intended definition. Very few people in Nazi-controlled territory had even the slightest idea of what a concentration camp was, America would have known even less. All they would have had to go on at most would have been vague rumours of the Nazis putting people into "concentration camps" without much more information on what they were or how they worked. Michael Curtiz could have easily misunderstood and took this term to mean a political prison.

Today, one might argue that this little detail seems like a strange oversight in an otherwise finely-crafted movie, and something to be dismissed simply as a product of the era. However, it is because this detail is a product of the era that it is important to bring it to the forefront. This slight error in the dialogue serves as a very clear window into the past and allows a glimpse into the mind of people who lived at the height of World War II and how they perceived the conflict around them. Casablanca is therefore very much a relic of World War II.

Blindspot: Back to Bataan (1945)

I'll be honest here and admit that I did not go into this one with high expectations. Back to Bataan was a film that had been sitting in my drawer for years. The truth is the only reason I had it was because of this one time I found it among some low-priced DVDs and I happened to be a big John Wayne fan at the time. If it hadn't been for him I probably would have overlooked this one entirely. Going in now offered a better understanding of why the film was made, but that was really about it. I expected this film to be basically American propaganda and I was more or less right, as you can expect from a Hollywood film made just as World War II was ending.

Though the film begins with a disclaimer claiming that the story is based on real events, Back to Bataan is really a sequel to a 1943 combat film called Bataan. That film centered on a small ragtag group of American soldiers who were forced to band together in order to make a stand against the Japanese. Bataan basically ended with everybody dying and the last man standing trying to take as many Japanese soldiers with him as he can. There was then a title card which promised that one day America would return to avenge its fallen soldiers and retake Bataan.

Unfortunately, real life failed to deliver on that promise, so a sequel was made to "fulfill" it: Back to Bataan. That's literally all this film is: it's an American fantasy made to fulfill a so-called promise made in a single film two years earlier because reality didn't work out the way people wanted it to. John Wayne plays the role of Colonel Joseph Madden, an army officer given some kind of top secret mission to unite members of the Filipino resistance against the oppression of the Japanese. Meanwhile, a middle-aged teacher named Bertha Barnes (Beulah Bondi) is running a school at a local village in which she tries to force American values on provide a proper education for Filipino children. Unfortunately for her, the village is invaded by Japanese soldiers who show they mean business by hanging the principal over the American flag. Then some stuff happens and Madden suddenly decides to try and help the village or something while we occasionally get glimpses of Japanese atrocities.

One thing I only found out after seeing Back to Bataan is that the filmmakers were trying to keep up to date with current events in the war and had to keep changing the script according to major developments. Unfortunately for them, it really shows. The story gets extremely disjointed and confusing as the film develops, probably the result of all the abrupt changes being made to accommodate what was going on in the actual war. None of the characters really seemed particularly memorable, and plot threads seem to come and go out of nowhere. Even the basic military objectives of the main characters weren't very well explained.

There were also plot threads that never really seemed to connect; like the film begins and ends with the liberation of a Japanese POW camp and then takes the time to identify several of the captives... and it has no connection to the rest of the story. It never ties into the central plot, none of the POWs named make an appearance outside of those scenes, let alone have a part in the actual narrative. The POW raid itself was also ridiculous, considering it happened in the most unsubtle way imaginable and in real life the Americans would probably have been slaughtered.

In many ways, Back to Bataan is really a product of its time. While some credit could be given to there being at least an attempt to present strong sympathetic Filipino characters, most of them are stereotypes by today's standards and the choice to cast Anthony Quinn, a white actor, as someone who is supposed to be Asian can definitely leave a bad taste for modern viewers. Also true to propaganda of the era, the Japanese are given no humanity. The only Japanese character of note is a single officer (the rest are anonymous soldiers) who is also a very obvious stereotype and treated as a monster. While historically the Japanese did commit some horrifying war crimes and ran POW camps that calling inhumane would be an understatement, this part of the film has definitely not aged well.

The only thing that I would say makes Back to Bataan at all a worthwhile experience for anyone is from a purely historical perspective. It does offer some insight into American views of World War II and makes sense for scholars who want to study this film and how it fits into contemporary cinematic reactions to the war. So for academics and scholars this film might be okay to look at, but for casual viewing there are better options as far as John Wayne movies go. Personally, I'd say John Wayne's later propaganda film The Green Berets is a better choice; as much as most people today would disagree with its pro-Vietnam messages at least that one was somewhat entertaining and had a coherent story. There isn't much of that in Back to Bataan.

The Thing About The Thing

In my essay Alienation of the Individual in Films About Aliens I discussed the ways in which science fiction movies about alien visitations reflected the social anxieties of the era in which they were made. There have arguably been three major cycles of alien invasion films, the first happening in the 1950's, the second in the 70's and continuing into the 80's, and the third beginning in the late 90's and continuing today. All three of these cycles contained very different patterns in how the alien visitors were treated, and in what way they were represented. 50's alien invasion films were characterized by a very pro-authoritarian attitude with the aliens almost always being cast as the villains (aside from a few rare exceptions such as The Day the Earth Stood Still) who served as an allegory for the paranoia of communist influence. These films were made at the height of the Cold War, when to the average American citizen, nuclear warfare was inevitable.

The later cycle involved a very different tone. Aside from a greater presence of movies about friendly aliens, these films were being made following several events in the 60's that had sparked a significant distrust of the government. In the later alien invasion films, the government is at best inaccessible, and at worst it is an active threat. Instead, the focus becomes one of individualism, in which the central characters are civilians who have to stand up against an oppressive government to resolve the situation. As you can see, there is a very distinct change that occurs among these films. The modern alien invasion cycle appears to involve a middle ground between the two extremes, with a positive view of the government but an emphasis the individual playing a crucial role in their victory.

However, there is one movie among the 1950's cycle of alien invasion films that manages to avoid fitting perfectly into the usual patterns of the era: Howard Hawks' The Thing From Another World. This was an early entry into the cycle, and at first it appears to fit the standard formula of alien invasion films of the era. The central characters are a group of American Air Force men, who are treated as the voice of reason and who have to rally together everyone in the camp in order to defeat the Thing. This would suggest that the Thing itself is an allegory for the perceived "Red Menace"... the key word being perceived. On closer examination, it turns out to be a lot more complicated than that. If anything, this structure is merely a disguise to get past the censors. In actuality, The Thing From Another World is an allegory not just for the fear of communism, but criticizing Cold War politics in general.

While the central character of The Thing From Another World is an Air Force captain who serves as an authority figure, the movie as a whole displays a very critical attitude toward the military. Captain Hendry is not in fact the primary authority figure, he still answers to General Fogarty, and it is the "professionalism" of the military that proves to be a major hindrance in defeating the Thing. This is established early on when the "standard operating procedure" intended to uncover the flying saucer ends up destroying it. Once the Thing is brought into, Fogarty not only prohibits any public knowledge of the incident (and ignores Hendry's pleas to reconsider), but he also repeatedly issues orders demanding the protection of the Thing after it has started to wreck havoc. The only way to save everyone in the base is literally to ignore his direct orders. In other words, Hendry has gone rogue, foreshadowing the anti-authoritarian themes of the second alien invasion cycle.

Considering this realization, the real representative of the American government is the one person who actually tries to listen to the useless orders of General Fogarty: Dr. Arthur Carrington. He and the Thing both represent the two opposing parties: America and Russia, while the rest of the cast represents civilians on both sides who are caught in the middle. The Thing is the obvious, or perhaps more accurately, the perceived danger, when in fact the real threat is something far more local and more familiar, namely Dr. Carrington. Throughout the film, Carrington is stubbornly convinced that "The Thing" is a door to infinite scientific knowledge, to the point where he believes it takes priority over the lives of the men and women in the base and labels anyone who says otherwise as a traitor.

The Thing From Another World was released when the Cold War as at its darkest, largely due to the actions of Senator Joseph McCarthy. Even for a time when it was normal to be afraid of the alleged "Red Menace", McCarthy had some very strong opinions on the matter. He was responsible for ruining the lives of many Americans through a series of "communist witch trials" in which people were persistently questioned about ties to communism. This is where the term "McCarthyism" comes from, as it refers to any accusations made against a certain party based on insufficient evidence.

Hollywood in particular was hit rather hard by this practice, with many previously-successful filmmakers losing their jobs based on unsupported accusations. Charlie Chaplin was exiled because he once entertained a friend with ties to communism, and wasn't allowed to return to America until the 1980's. Screenwriter Bertholdt Brecht, despite having shown his support for the American war effort through his film Hangmen Also Die, was also accused of being a communist and left one day after his hearing. It got so bad that the studios eventually created a list of the "Hollywood Ten", a group of screenwriters named for the blacklist so that the government would leave the film industry alone (ironically, some of these blacklisted writers were still able to keep working uncredited, even winning Academy Awards).

There was an obvious danger to the American People: the Soviet Union. This is what the government liked to paint as the enemy in the 1950's, and to a certain extent it could be argued that the danger was real since both the United States and Russia were pointing missiles at each other. Mutually assured destruction seemed inevitable, but at the same time there was another far greater menace. The threat was not the other country, as people would have been led to believe, but their own  familiar government. McCarthy himself and his persistent efforts to stomp out anyone who had the slightest reason to be suspected of communism was a more immediate danger.

In The Thing From Another World, the obvious danger is in the literal monster, The Thing. The danger it poses to the team is real, as it is trying to kill everyone and consume their blood, but in the end this is not the real enemy. It is actually a decoy, something to keep the protagonists distracted from the real enemy. While The Thing is dangerous, there is a far greater threat in the form of something familiar: a human and seemingly an ally to the protagonists. Dr. Carrington is introduced as a respected scientist, but as the plot develops, he starts to establish himself as a monster no better than The Thing.

Over the course of the film Dr. Carrington becomes obsessed with the Thing, convinced that he can learn from it scientifically. He becomes so passionate about his belief that the monster can be valuable to science that he puts it above the lives of everyone in the camp, going as far as to attempt to sabotage efforts to destroy it. He even goes on to identify any person who disagrees with his view as a traitor to humanity. The rest of the cast, which includes people from different sides, are practically civilians caught up in the pointless conflict between Carrington and The Thing. They also come from two different sides: the military and the scientists, but in the end find themselves on equal footing. This could be interpreted as suggesting that the American and Russian people were not so different from one another, and that it was simply their governments that are the problem.

On discovering this, it starts to become clear that The Thing From Another World is not about the fear of communism, but rather a criticism of Cold War politics in general. Neither Carrington nor the Thing is ever treated as being in the right. Both sides are just as guilty. Carrington himself emphasizes this idea visually when the Thing is first encountered, during which time he wears a hat that looks suspiciously like the types of headgear commonly associated with Soviet Russia, suggesting that the American government is not that much different. Scientific curiosity is used to substitute the government's fears of communism. Carrington's admiration of the Thing is the problem, and it is this ideology that he is pushing on everyone else in the camp, to the point where he will label anyone who disagrees as a threat.

There is one final element that serves to complete the Cold War Allegory. In real life, the Cold War was centered around American and the Soviet Union both pointing missiles at each other. The only thing that prevented a war from happening was the fortunate awareness of mutually assured destruction: that one side would attack, the other would retaliate, and both parties would be annihilated. In The Thing From Another World, the missiles are instead represented by seeds. The Thing is established to be capable of producing seeds that could potentially create more monsters like it and thus prove an even greater threat to humanity. Dr. Carrington also does something similar, creating his own garden and growing similar plants himself. Both sides offer a danger to everyone in the camp: mutually assured destruction.

The idea of mutually assured destruction comes into play at the very end of the film, when Dr. Carrington and The Thing finally confront each other. Carrington attempts, unsuccessfully, to talk to The Thing and is knocked aside. Immediately after, The Thing is also destroyed. The curious element is that the remaining characters seem to be better off when both are out of the picture. The critical wounding of Carrington and the destruction of The Thing represent the elimination of both the American and Soviet governments, and with that elimination the people of both nations are no longer caught in the crossfire of their petty conflict; thus bringing an imagined end to the Cold War. The thing about The Thing From Another World is that it is really quite daring for its time, presenting what on the surface looks like a typical 1950's alien invasion movie, but underneath contains a surprising layer of political commentary.

This Post was written for the Film Preservation Blogathon hosted by This Island Rod, Ferdy on Films, and Wonders in the Dark

A Reflection on the Motion Picture Production Code

The Motion Picture Production Code, now commonly known as the "Hays Code", was first created in response to a public outcry regarding the “controversial” material of films made during the Silent Era. During this time, when there were no rules in play, many filmmakers experimented with different ideas, sometimes touching on sexual or violent themes. In the late twenties the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association, led by William Hays, was hired to create a list of regulations. He started with a vague list suggesting what filmmakers should and should not do in their movies. When this list went ignored by filmmakers, the studios retaliated with the Production Code, enforced by an associate of Hayes, Joseph Breen, beginning in 1934 and continuing through the following two decades before finally a series of legal cases in the 1950's led to its dissolution and eventual lifting in the 1960's.

The Production Code was a strictly enforced series of rules that prohibited several topics and contained restrictions about others. For instance, the Code lists several regulations about how crime pictures were to be made. Movies dealing with illegal activity were required to minimize the use of firearms to those essential to the plot and crimes could not be shown in detail. It also says that criminals cannot be treated in a sympathetic light, that any depiction of drug trafficking is forbidden, and that alcohol cannot be shown unless it is important to story or characterization. While the Production Code is more lenient towards depictions of violence provided that the films avoid romanticizing crime, depicting certain types of criminal activity, and showing it in detail, it prohibits any sexual themes. Hays’ justification for this decision is his claim that “Pictures shall not infer that low forms of sex relationship are the accepted or common thing”. In other words, sex could not in any way be depicted visually or verbally.

In addition to prohibiting any explicit depictions of sexual intercourse, Hays also prohibits showing adultery (unless it is essential to the plot, and even then cannot be explicit or justified), “scenes of passion”, “sexual perversion”, interracial relationships, children’s sexual organs, and childbirth. Filmmakers were generally barred from depicting any form of sexual activity. The few that did manage to get under the censors, such as James Whale’s The Bride of Frankenstein or Stanley Kubrick’s Lolita, were unable to address their sexual themes directly. The former incorporated homoerotic undertones through the interactions of the characters, particularly in the intimate relationship between the two scientists. The latter, centered on a pedophilic relationship, refrains from showing any sexual activity between Hubert Humbert and the titular Lolita.

Ironically, many of the “controversial” movies the Production Code was made in response to seem tame by today’s standards, especially with regards to sex and violence. A major component of the public outcry was the violence of crime films made before the Production Code. Gangster films like Howard Hawks' Scarface, depict criminal activity and in some ways glorify it (though they often came with a "crime doesn't pay" message, usually by ending with the gangster's death), but compared to the work of modern directors like Quentin Tarantino, these films seem surprisingly tame.

Really? This is what people were upset about?

Films like The Divorcee imply sexual activity to occur, but refrain from showing it. It is mostly suggested through innuendos in the conversations between the characters. The story concerns both a husband and wife committing adultery against each other, but all sex between them happens off-screen. While this was controversial for 1930, many more recent films, such as those of David Lynch or Stanley Kubrick, are far more explicit.

One restriction I find especially curious is the Production Code’s reference to “sexual perversion”. Precisely what Hays intended by this remark is unclear, as he fails to define or provide examples of what he considers to be “sexual perversion”. It appears that this particular category comprises anything other than a “traditional” heterosexual marriage, likely including homosexuality. While the Code does not specifically name homosexuality as something that should not be depicted, it was responsible for preventing any images of same-sex relationships from being shown on screen during the Studio Era.

Because of the Code, the production of A Streetcar Named Desire encountered difficulties when the filmmakers were pressured to change a scene in which Vivien Leigh reveals that her husband (who is never seen) was homosexual. The original play was already vague about his sexuality, but the film required what little references were present in the script to be taken out. Prior to the Code, there were very few films that did attempt to positively address the issues of homosexuality outside of a few exceptions such as Géza von Radványi’s Mädchen in Uniform (which featured a sympathetic lesbian protagonist). Though it is a very recent development, more filmmakers are making efforts to depict sympathetic gay couples.

Contemporary movies such as Mulholland Drive, Brokeback Mountain, and Blue is the Warmest Colour all attempt to present homosexual love stories with complex leading characters. Several of these films have also been made and released through mainstream Hollywood, and even Blue is the Warmest Colour (made in France) managed to gain international attention. Both Mulholland Drive and Brokeback Mountain were nominated for Best Director at the Academy Awards (the latter actually winning), while Blue is the Warmest Colour was nominated for Best Foreign Language Film at the Golden Globes.

While the Production Code was at its height during the 1930’s, the 1940’s saw the beginning of its decline. With America’s entry into World War II, the code was relaxed to allow the production of movies addressing the conflict. The intended result was the introduction of the combat film, but the relaxing of the Code also had the unexpected side effect of allowing directors to explore areas they could not previously. In particular, this relaxation of the Production Code, combined with a need to conserve resources and influence from the German Expressionist movement, resulted in a technique that would later become known as film noir. Movies that fit the style of film noir would explore more controversial themes, including more violent narratives and sexual undertones. In the 1960’s, the American government began to conduct a series of inquiries about the Code, eventually forcing it to be officially lifted.

The introduction of the Production Code may have in fact had the reverse effect of its intended purpose. Before it was published, movies explored sexual themes but rarely did it in an explicit way. With restrictions preventing even the use of innuendos and implied sex, Hays forced directors into the position of trying to find ways around his rules. This led to films attempting to find creative ways to show sex or related subjects that would go under the censors, such as disguising a sexual relationship as the humorous bantering and eventual marriage between a man and a woman (which is how the screwball comedy was first developed) or incorporating homoerotic undertones that would not have been noticed at the time (as in The Bride of Frankenstein). By examining the output of films made since the production code, I can see that many of them are far more explicit in their images of sex than the “controversial” films of the 1920’s.

There is definitely no homoerotic subtext in this scene.

IT'S ALIVE... AND IT'S GAY!

1818 saw the publication of the novel Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and with it the origin of one of the horror genre's most iconic characters, simply known as "The Monster". The story was based on the idea that just because science can do something does not mean it should, in this case through the questionable process of reanimating corpses. The title character of Dr. Frankenstein is a scientist who creates a man by combining bits and pieces from dead bodies and figures out how to bring it to life. Unfortunately, upon doing so he is horrified by his creation and disowns it. The Monster (it is never given a real name) is confused and has a child-like mindset as he is released upon the world. All he really wants is a friend, but he is feared by everyone he encounters leading driving it to violence.

Since the publication of Shelley's book, the character of Frankenstein's Monster has become an icon of the horror genre. He has been the subject of countless movies, not all of them adaptations of the book. Many have spoofed the character in various ways, ranging from H.P. Lovecraft's Herbert West: Re-Animator to Mel Brooks' Young Frankenstein, or in some way paid homage. Several adaptations of Frankenstein have been made, but the most iconic is arguably the 1931 film of the same name directed by James Whale.

Whale's film was such a success that Universal Studios decided a sequel had to happen. James Whale was initially reluctant but eventually agreed to take on the project which would provide a "continuation" of the 1931 film, the result being the strange 1935 horror film The Bride of Frankenstein. In order to justify continuing the story, the movie was framed in the form of Mary Shelley herself relating what happens next to her friend Lord Byron and her husband Percy. This whole setup makes one wonder if the creators of the film actually read her original novel, to which a sequel of this sort would be extremely unlikely.

In the book, Victor Frankenstein (who for some reason had his first name changed to Henry in the films) spends the final act of the book travelling the world in pursuit of the monster, only to get sick and die a few days after being found by the crew of a sailing ship in the Arctic (these last few days of his life also serve as a framing device). The Monster follows not long after, deciding to burn himself. Most of the supporting characters have also died by this point, so there is not really any way Mary Shelley herself could have continued the story if she wanted to, at least not with the same characters. The only way the story could really go on is if another scientist figured out Victor's formula and tried to build on it, and even then she would have to find a creative angle to take or else it would just be the first book all over again.

Obviously, this framing device is a somewhat misused, as The Bride of Frankenstein is a sequel to the 1931 film rather than to the book. If anything, the only real contribution it serves story-wise is to provide a recap of everything that happened in the previous film. Mary Shelley begins telling the story but this scene is never revisited. No voice-over narration is incorporated, nor does the film ever return to these three. Mary Shelley claims that her story did not end where it did (which raises the question of why she ended it there) and it reveals that the Monster somehow survived being burned alive in the previous film, with Victor Henry Frankenstein also being found alive but injured.

What is especially strange about this movie is that for a film called The Bride of Frankenstein, she is barely in the movie. There is less Bride of Frankenstein in The Bride of Frankenstein than there was a towering inferno in The Towering Inferno. Most of the movie instead focuses on Henry Frankenstein encountering a mad scientist named Dr. Pretorius who forces him to into a collaboration to create another reanimated corpse. This leads to the idea being proposed to use a female body this time, and to create a "mate" for the monster. A similar idea actually appears in the original book, in which Victor Frankenstein is convinced by the monster to make a woman like him (though he panics and destroys the female monster before she can be reanimated), but in this case, the "bride" only appears right at the very end, and even then for only a few minutes and having no dialogue.

Even James Whale did not initially want to work on a sequel to Frankenstein, so why did he eventually agree to do it? Studio pressure had a hand in it, since his previous film was such a huge success. However, even if Whale turned it down, Universal Studios still had the rights to his film and could have hired another director to get the sequel made. It was actually because Whale was a homosexual working under the Motion Picture Production Code formed by William Hays, something which contained a very strict list of what filmmakers were not allowed to show in their movies.

The code included opposition to a lot of things and can easily come off as offensive today. It contains prohibitions on such things as adultery (unless it is essential to the plot and treated as immoral, and even then cannot be explicit) and interracial relationships. While the code does not specifically name homosexuality as something unacceptable to depict, it does refer to "sexual perversion" which I can only assume was meant to include any depiction of gay sex, among other things. In any case, homosexuality was generally frowned upon, and filmmakers were not allowed to acknowledge its existence. Whale took on the project because it provided a venue to present themes of homosexuality that could go unnoticed by the censors. It worked, and it was not until years, possibly decades later, that scholars and critics began to notice the unsubtle undertones.

These elements form in large part through the interactions between the three central characters: Frankenstein, Pretorius, and the monster. The relationship between the two scientists does in some ways play like a romantic couple. Pretorious essentially "seduces" F. rankenstein into taking part in his experiments. He also has a tendency to visit Frankenstein at night, and invite him over to his place. When they are working together in the lab, there are plenty of scenes in which both of the men are placed very close together in a way that makes them seem intimately connected.

The Monster also displays similar tendencies, with one of the best examples being when he first encounters Pretorius. This is one of The Bride of Frankenstein's weirder moments, set in an old crypt filled with corpses. Pretorius finds the skeleton of a young girl who died as a teenager and for some reason decides this is perfect material for his experiment. He then sends his two assistants out before revealing his brought his own dinner. By that I don't just mean he brought a sandwich, I mean he actually sets up a fancy candlelight dinner, complete with a bottle of wine, and sets it all up using the coffin as a table with the bones he just exhumed placed right next to his food. During the same scene, the Monster encounters Pretorius and is invited to join him. Pretorius shares the wine and they have an intimate conversation. The underlying implication here is actually quite simple: Pretorius has invited the Monster on a date.

At first glance, this actually seems remarkably progressive for a movie made in 1935. The fact that a homosexual not only managed to lead a successful Hollywood career but also managed to make a film criticizing homophobia and get away with it is remarkable in itself. At least, that might be how it appears at first. Unfortunately, there is a darker side to it. The movie might not be as progressive as it initially seems. In fact some might argue that it is outright misogynistic, but more closely focusing on the homoerotic undertones, there is a catch that suggest some... strange worldviews. 

James Whale was a homosexual and littered The Bride of Frankenstein with homoerotic undertones just to see how much he could get under the censors. One could argue that there is a pro-gay message (though one presented in an extremely roundabout way)... for men. Throughout the movie there are homoerotic undertones with regards to the interactions between the male leads, but there is no reference to lesbianism. Not a single woman in the movie ever behaves with the same sort of implications as the men. None of the female interactions display the same homoerotic components, as though James Whale didn't know that there are also plenty of gay women.

Of all the women who do appear, there are only two the viewer needs to concern themselves with, the "Monster's Mate" herself, and Frankenstein's wife Elizabeth. Both serve very little purpose in the story beyond a motivation for the men. Elizabeth is simply there to be captured so Frankenstein will work with Pretrorius (though she later somehow manages to escape, it isn't explained how she manages to get to the lab in the climax) while the "bride", who is barely in the movie, gets no dialogue and rejects the Monster as her "mate". These two women never even interact (ironic, considering they both appear in the same scene), let alone engage in the same sort of undertones that have been driving the men throughout the film.

Funnily enough, the closest thing the film has to a strong female character is Mary Shelley herself, who only appears in the opening scene during which she is praised as a talented writer by the two men in the room. As with the later moments, this interaction between the men allows for more not-so-subtle interactions. Whale seems to envision the "ideal family" as two gay men and a sympathetic woman. Once again, Mary Shelley is kept from partaking in these interactions, as though Whale could not conceive of the possibility that she too could in turn be gay.

The Bride of Frankenstein therefore becomes a strange film indeed. As a horror film, it is campy and not particularly effective especially during the more bizarre moments (it's a bit hard to take the film seriously when we see two guys going on a date that involves a candlelight dinner on a coffin). It becomes more interesting when you strip away the silliness and the obvious disregard for Mary Shelley's own writing despite the opening scene claiming that this is her continuation of the story. Underneath that, there are some bizarre sexual innuendos that make it hard to tell if the film is progressive or offensive.

200th Post

So it's time once again for me to celebrate a new milestone on my blog and what better way to do that than with a movie that made a significant impact on my life. Now I imagine you're all left wondering what the secret movie is this time. It seems I've been going back a decade with each passing milestone. For my 50th post I did a a film from 1964, for my 100th post I wrote about a film from 1954, so naturally why not go back another decade with a movie from 1945? This time I settled for an exciting swashbuckling tale of piracy. It's the classic adventure film Captain Kidd.

As far back as I can remember, this was the first fully-black and white movie I ever saw from start to finish. I'll confess that I've always had a soft spot for pirates. In fact back in July I wrote an entire article about the subject of pirates on film comparing the myth to history. I first encountered Captain Kidd years ago, back when I was somewhere in Grade 4 or 5. I was big on the subject of pirates at the time and I had been exposed to a handful of older movies. If I recall correctly it was in a Wal-Mart my mom managed to find the "Hollywood DVD Classics" edition of the film.

We watched it about a week later, and it was a bit jarring at first because I had never seen a full black and white film before. Sometime later, maybe a week or two (I don't remember precisely) I talked myself into giving it another chance and found I appreciated it a lot more. Before long it quickly became one of my favourite movies (though granted it has been outranked by several other films since then) and I found myself watching this exciting adventure again and again. I wanted to go out and find other films in the "Hollywood DVD Classics" series, though I never did until a few months ago when I found one of their discs compiling two episodes of Bonanza.

I was literally obsessed with Captain Kidd, that's how much I loved the film. The impact it had on me was unbelievable. In between classes at school, I used to make arts and crafts projects imitating the case (which unlike your standard DVD case is much smaller and more flexible). Of course, none of my classmates ever understood quite how much this film intrigued me and instead would make fun of these projects jokingly showing them off as my "fake I.D." (something I did not understand the meaning of at the time, which didn't help much).

While this wasn't the first old movie I ever saw, it was one that certainly opened a door down a winding corridor that would allow me greater exposure to other things. If 2001: A Space Odyssey was sealed my fate to be a film student, it was Captain Kidd that first set me on that path. In addition to opening my mind to Classical Hollywood, it introduced me to a name that I would come to know very well in the following years: the great actor Charles Laughton. Since this occasion calls for me to discuss something special I decided to dig out that old DVD and see if it was as good as I remembered. So after all these years and now looking at it again with a broader understanding of film history, how does it hold up?

Well, I'll confess, it isn't the greatest thing I've ever seen. It did feel a bit like a b-movie, and its story certainly had flaws I would not have noticed when I was younger, though I can certainly see how I would have enjoyed it. Laughton himself has done some far better projects such as Mutiny on the Bounty (which curiously enough, was also a nautical adventure in which he plays a nasty sea captain) That does not, however, mean that this was in any way a bad movie. While it may not be any grand cinematic achievement it is still an enjoyable little adventure story.

I should explain that this isn't exactly a historical film. Captain William Kidd was a real pirate who buried a small stash of treasure before he was hanged... and that's about the extent of the history you'll get here. The actual Captain Kidd was something of a real-life tragic hero, a man who got mixed up in piracy because of circumstances beyond his control and executed for it when he tried to get out. The movie's Kidd is instead treated as a despicable and scheming villain, so aside from sharing his name with a real person he's pretty much a fictional character.

Captain William Kidd (Charles Laughton) is a respected sailor in England with the popular image of being an honest shipmaster. In actuality, he is a ruthless double-crossing, backstabbing, and greedy pirate. He is recruited by King William III (Henry Danielle) to lead an expedition into African waters to rendezvous with an English vessel loaded in treasure and escort it safely back to London. What the King doesn't know is that Kidd has no intention of seeing the ship return safely and in fact wants to keep the riches for himself.

To accomplish this end, he recruits a crew of convicted pirates who are offered a pardon for their services. As the voyage gets under way, Kidd begins to put his dastardly schemes into action, which result in various members of the crew dying in "accidents". Unfortunately for him one officer by the name of Adam Mercy (Randolph Scott), starts to figure Kidd's intentions and with help from the few trustworthy people aboard, becomes determined to expose his captain's treachery and see justice prevail.

So as you can imagine, this is a pretty straight forward swashbuckling adventure, something not too unusual for the 40's. In that sense it may at first feel like a typical b-movie, but even so it is still nonetheless an enjoyable story. Laughton makes an intimidating villain as you can normally expect from his roles, possibly channelling a bit of his more famous role of William Bligh. Scott's character of Adam Mercy is a fairly likable character, one who you can find yourself rooting for and hope to see triumph in the end.

There isn't a whole lot to be said about much of the supporting cast, and if I had to point out any flaws in the movie I could argue that they are underdeveloped. Only a few people really stand out from the crowd, though out of the ones that are present the most interesting has got to be Orange Povey. This is a character who steals the show in his scenes, and the tension between him and Kidd is very strong, with the former trying to find a way to get rid of him by way of an "accident" and the latter finding clever ways to talk him out of it.

So after all these years does Captain Kidd still hold up as a great film? Well, it does have its narrative flaws and underdeveloped characters. I don't know I would consider it a masterpiece and I will confess that Charles Laughton has done a lot of far better work. However, it is still a fun and enjoyable little movie with a straight forward plot and some exciting sword fights. It is worth giving a watch if you get the chance, though perhaps not one you will need to put as a top priority.

The Grapes of Wrath: A Window into the Past

Thanks to Hollywood, the 1930's can sometimes be remembered as a glamorous time. Looking back at the old movies of Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant, and stars of the time, it can be easy to forget the things that were going on at that point in time. We can recall all the great pictures and the stars but what was going on behind all that? What were things really like in those days? In these olden days the movies were a means of escape, and with good reason considering what people were going through.

What may be common knowledge to historians but easy to forget when looking purely at film, is that the Studio Era, now often thought of as a "golden age", coincided with a very dark period in history. While studios profited, the average working man was faced with economic troubles all over the world. Work was nearly impossible to find, and the few jobs that could be obtained paid very little and had very poor conditions.

It was an accomplishment just to be able to scrape together enough for one meal. It was a period that would force people from their homes, losing nearly everything they had, and as if that wasn't bad enough, the thing that finally brought it to an end was a certain dictator's plans for mass genocide. In those days it likely did not have a name, but now we have come to know this point in time by one that is very fitting: the Great Depression.

With all the glamour that comes from Hollywood, it was interesting to see a film that showed another side of the 1930's. The Grapes of Wrath tells the story of an unfortunate family that loses everything to the depression, literally forced to live out on the road in a beat-up truck that could easily break down at any moment. Their only chance at any improvement to their situation is already a long shot, that if they can get to California than they might just be able to get a job picking oranges. Unfortunately, getting there is easier said than done, and what really awaits them is a road full of misery, tragedy, and heartbreak.

The basic tone of this story should hardly come as a surprise to anyone familiar with the work of John Steinbeck. I myself have only ever read one of his novels, Of Mice and Men, which also dealt with the troubles caused by the depression. That one focused on the friendship between two men, with the added problem that one is super strong but has the mind of a child. It builds up to them almost getting that place of their own that they wanted, only to end up in a situation where one is forced to kill the other. As you can imagine, Steinbeck has something of a reputation for writing very depressing stories.

The Grapes of Wrath was released in 1940, and for the time it would have been extremely relevant to its audiences, many of whom would likely have lived through the depression themselves (at a time when America was just starting to come out of it). Today it is kind of like looking into the past and glimpsing this old world, and the horrible struggles faced by the unfortunate men and women of the time.

Henry Fonda is really good as the central character of Tom Joad, the ex-convict who just wants to go clean and start fresh with his family only to get roped into this mess. He wants to go clean and be left alone, but as troubles pile upon everyone that becomes increasingly difficult. He has to do everything he can to hold the family together, but situation after situation presents itself where it becomes harder and harder to tell just what is the right thing.

John Ford's direction with this movie is spot on in any way you can imagine. Seeing as he is usually associated with the western genre, it is a nice change of pace to see him tackling something very different and more (for the time) modern issues. The tone of his direction is appropriately dark, but never too much so. There is always a faint glimmer of hope, even if it's nearly impossible to see.

I would strongly recommend The Grapes of Wrath as a classic worth giving a watch. It is a film that will allow you to look at a point in history not often shown in films of the studio era, made by people who would have been affected by it on some level. It is a very emotional experience that will allow you to get a glimpse of just what homelessness can feel like, and appreciate the rare moments of genuine kindness all the more.

Just What Exactly is Film Noir?

Film noir is a subject I hear so many people talk about, but I sometimes fail to fully comprehend. I have in the past made attempts to study this elusive area of film, but usually in vain. It is a tricky thing to study largely because no one source seems to fully agree on just what exactly defines it. There are patterns among film noir, but hardly ones as obvious as those of westerns or musicals. Depending on who you talk to, film noir may be labelled as either a genre, a trend, a style, or a method of filming. It may also encompass films within a specific period of time or movies made even today. In this article, I hope to use a mix of my understandings, my classes, and my own observations in an effort to provide a clear and concise definition of just what precisely makes a "film noir".

The concept of "film noir" is typically associated with Hollywood films from the early 1940's into the late 1950's. There are plenty of films that are considered "noir" and others that are less consistently labelled, and there is a good reason why. You see, at the time, Hollywood filmmakers saw themselves as making crime pictures or thrillers. It wasn't until the 1960's that French critics began studying these old movies and spotted patterns between them, hence the reason why this phenomenon is given a French name (which translates roughly as "Black Film" or "Dark Film").

The phenomenon that would become "film noir" was initially born as a result of America's entry into World War II. Part of it had to do with filmmakers taking advantage of studio regulations being relaxed (to allow more "realistic" depictions of the war), but it was mainly done out of necessity. The American war effort needed all the resources it could get, and so production companies had to conserve materials. This meant lower budgets, and working in smaller sets built specifically for the movie. Location shooting could only be done at night.

Typical film noirs of this period in history were very dark in tone. They generally used an urban environment and featured a very bleak atmosphere. Story conventions varied widely, and contrary to popular belief there did not always have to be a mystery. However, themes of crime, punishment, and redemption are abundant in most films of this sort. The central characters are anti-heroes, usually men though exceptions exist, who in over their head in some sort of criminal activity.

When I say "dark" I mean it both literally and figuratively. Film noirs are dark in tone, but often employ minimalist lighting as well. "Noir" translates directly as "black", and indeed there is a lot of that to be found. Movies of this sort are often shot in black and white, relying on sharp contrasts between light and shadow. The darkness is emphasized by the fact that a lot of film noirs were shot at night (due to studio restrictions at the time) and in claustrophobic spaces such as alleys.

There are examples of iconography that seem to be consistent within film noir. The aforementioned alleyways are one, along with dark and empty streets. This phenomenon might be the second-most common thing fedoras are associated with (after Indiana Jones), as they are commonly worn by the men along with suits under trenchcoats, while the women wore fancy dresses. The common weapon of choice was usually the revolver, and both men and women will usually smoke at least a thousand cigarettes over the course of the film with some emphasis on the resulting trails of smoke.

The first, and arguably most famous noir archetype is the private detective. It is hard to say with complete certainty how often they actually appeared in noir films, but they make up several of the best known. Typically, this detective is a loner; bitter and cynical. He (it is usually a man) usually begins taking on a seemingly simple case that quickly spirals out of control. Before long he gets mixed up in criminal activity, probably including a murder or two, and can only get out by getting to the bottom of everything and playing the crooks involved. This one goes as far back as one of the earliest film noirs, with Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon.

The second major archetype is a character known as the "femme fatale". The way this character can be used also varies widely. Sometimes they are more sympathetic, sometimes they are outright evil, and sometimes they constantly veer the line between both extremes. In any case, she (it is usually a woman) is a tough character who knows what she wants and will go to any means necessary to get it. Usually she is extremely beautiful, and likes to take advantage of her male-dominated society by appealing to the sexuality of the men as a way of manipulating them to her own ends. Some femme fatales will even resort to murder if it gets them their way.

A lesser-known but still fairly common protagonist in noir films is the man trying to escape his past. Act of Violence and Out of the Past both involve a protagonist trying to live an ordinary life in order to redeem themselves of a prior misdeed, only to get into trouble when someone involved with that past manages to find them. Generally there is less of a mystery here, and the goal is instead a quest for true redemption and escape, resulting in their unfortunate demise.

Sometimes the main characters can even be police officers just doing typical police work. For instance, have you ever wondered what Bones might look like it was made in the studio era and didn't have as many strong female leads? No. Well, too bad, because that's basically what you get with the 1950 film noir Mystery Street, more or less a police procedural about cops and forensics experts trying to solve a woman's murder after finding her body.

Then of course there are the darkest anti-heroes of film noir. These are people who despite being ostensibly the hero, are just as bad as the villains, if not worse. One of the best examples I could offer, and interestingly a rare female protagonist, is Margot Shelby of the 1946 film Decoy. This character is crooked in every sense of the word, constantly double-crossing everyone she meets including people she has known for years. Among other things she goes out of her way to revive an old friend executed by gas chamber just so she can kill him once he tells her what she wants to know, and deliberately runs over an accomplice just so she won't have to share the money she is after.

Speaking of money, that is another theme to these film noirs. Often the murders committed turn out to be all about something that seems petty, and in the end, it turns out not to be worth it. In The Maltese Falcon, people double cross and kill each other over the titular artifact but when it finally appears it turns out to be fake. After all the trouble that Margot goes through in Decoy, she dies of a gunshot wound in front of a bunch of policemen and the box she thought had the money turns out to have a note essentially saying "Yeah, I saw your betrayal coming. I'm not giving you my cash!"

Finally, the concept of "film noir" is typically associated with a specific point in history, but precisely what movies qualify as "film noir" is a more complicated manner. Casablanca is one that is sometimes labelled as a film noir, but others instead argue that it is more of a "proto-noir", or rather a film that helped to develop the conventions of what would later become film noir. The Maltese Falcon is often considered one of the earliest film noirs, but it was also made before the strict rules of material conservation would allow the phenomenon to develop.

Matters are complicated more when one looks at the issue of timing. The phenomenon we now know as film noir is often associated with the 40's and 50's, but is it confined to that point in history? There are plenty of later films such as Chinatown, Blade Runner, Angel Heart, Mulholland Drive, and Sin City that all incorporate elements of film noir. There are some who would in fact argue that true "film noir" only includes films of this particular point in time and that anything later is "neo-noir" that merely pays homage to or draws from classical film noir.

I would disagree with this notion. The term "film noir" refers to a specific tone of storytelling, and in that sense could be considered a style rather than a full genre. Even classical film noirs encompass a wide variety of genres including the detective story (The Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep), the crime thriller (Out of the Past, Act of Violence), the gangster film (Decoy), and the police procedural (Mystery Street, The Big Combo). It's not really a genre in itself so much as a means of approaching a genre, often but not always crime-related.

Taking that rationale into account, the concept of "film noir" can be applied to any genre as long as it has at least some of the right attributes. In the 1940's it was typically done with crime pictures because that was what was popular back then, but there is no reason it could not fit with other genres. Blade Runner has a noir-ish atmosphere applied to a science fiction setting. Angel Heart is a horror film that is structured in the form of a classical detective story. Mulholland Drive uses the structure of a noir-ish mystery to create a surreal and subjective experience.

So in the end, what really is film noir? Well, based on my experiences with it so far, I would argue that it is an approach to storytelling that can be combined with many different genres in an effort to create a very specific feeling in the viewer. While it was most popular in Hollywood during the 40's and 50's, it is still used in more modern works to create a pessimistic vision of the world, and changes in studio regulations since that time have allowed filmmakers to experiment and find new ways to utilize it.

The key requirement is for the film to be very dark both literally and figuratively, typically using minimal lighting during the darker scenes. While it does not need to center around crime, it should involve a bleak vision of the world, one where both the heroes and villains are morally questionable and it becomes hard to tell right from wrong. A claustrophobic and choking urban environment also helps, as does a compelling anti-hero and a narrative that can invoke feelings of suspense in the viewer. I think this is about as clear a definition of film noir as I can get.

A Tribute to Peter Lorre: A Fine Actor

In the days of Classical Hollywood, we got a number of great actors: Cary Grant, Humphrey Bogart, Jimmy Stewart, Gregory Peck, and Henry Fonda to name a few. We saw lots of great men in those old days, but I'm not sure how many left quite as much of an impression as a certain Austrian-born actor. Peter Lorre was the unfortunate victim of typecasting. There is no doubt about that, but he is still a fascinating character in every way possible who always managed to find something useful to bring to his roles (okay, maybe with the exception of Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea).

Though he is remembered for his role in classical Hollywood, Peter Lorre was born an Astro-Hunagarian of Jewish descent. His first big breakout movie was a German film called M, directed by Fritz Lang of Metropolis fame (who would also go on to work for for Hollywood in the Studio Era) but thanks to some bad ideas proposed by one Adolph Hitler, he had to get out of their as fast as possible and eventually settled in Hollywood, where with the success of M he managed to find various acting roles in Hollywood.

M was unfortunately the beginning of Peter Lorre's experience in typecasting. In that film, he played a serial killer who preyed on children. By the time he started making his name in Hollywood, he became the go-to guy for sidekicks, villains, or (more often) sidekicks to villains. It certainly didn't help that the Nazis made an anti-semetic propaganda film called The Eternal Jew which took a single scene from M out of context and tried to use that as proof that Peter Lorre was a "typical" Jew that needed to be annihilated.

The funny thing is that by most accounts, like many great actors he was precisely the opposite of his on-screen persona. While on film Peter Lorre was often cast as thieves and murderers or characters who at the very least had something sleazy about them (his single scene in Casablanca, for instance). The real Peter Lorre was said to be a nice guy with a sense of humor that rarely (if ever) showed up on camera (supposedly, while attending Bela Lugosi's funeral, he asked "Do you think we should drive a stake through his heart, just case?")

One story I've heard (though I can't validate it's authenticity) goes that Lorre was in a restaurant and found a whole bunch of people being kept behind a bar. The waiter came up to him and Lorre asked why all the people were being kept back, to which the waiter replied that they were just tourists and they wanted to seat "important people like yourself" first. Lorre responded to this by removing the barrier and immediately seating every single one of the tourists himself. When asked why, he said "I know what it feels like to be kept out", referring to his experiences with the Nazis early in his career.

Now Peter Lorre didn't always play villains. While his character may have had a sleazy vibe he technically had a heroic role in Casablanca (since he provided Rick with the tickets that eventually allowed Ilsa Lund and Victor Lazlo to get to America). In 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, he got to play one of his few truly sympathetic roles as Conseil, whose conflicting morals made him a perfect surrogate for the audience. In yet another amusing example of Peter Lorre's sense of humor, he allegedly went on to claim (at least according to Walt Disney) "the squid got the part that's usually reserved for him".

Peter Lorre really was an amazing individual, not just as an actor but as a person too. This was a man who was a role model in every way you could imagine. As an actor he could usually be expected to deliver an excellent performance no matter what was expected of him, and as a person he seems like he was a really great guy to be around. As far as stars of classical Hollywood go, Peter Lorre might be one of the greatest and most admirable you can find.

What Is My Problem, Man?

This is the second time it's happened now, first what happened with Fellini last year and now this. Why is it that I am such a big fan of David Lynch and yet it seems every time I watch something that obviously inspired him I can't stand it. This time my Cinema Studies class got kicked off with the movie Sunset Boulevard, a film which I understood to be a favorite of Lynch's. I also knew Billy Wilder was a good director, considering how much I enjoyed Some Like it Hot.

I wanted to like this movie, but in the end it ultimately proved to be really hard to sit through and I spent most of it just waiting for the darn thing to end. I probably would have gotten completely lost if I hadn't had the foresight to look at Wikipedia's summary of what happens. There was also a major plot hole that bothered me: it is made clear that Joe is dead when the movie begins (as opposed to simply being wounded), so how exactly is he narrating the story? The only thing that really seemed to make the film worthwhile was to spot the little things that Lynch managed to pick up in his much better movies.

In particular, it quickly became clear that Sunset Boulevard had to be a major inspiration behind David Lynch's masterpiece Mulholland Drive, something that becomes clear right from the opening credits. The two of them are structured very similarly, right down to the idea of using a street sign in place of a title card. They even both have similar titles, with the two films being named after actual roads found in Hollywood.

There are other little parallels as well. I personally could not help noticing that both films had a major female character named Betty, and she was even involved in a tricky love affair. On this front, Lynch was able to be a bit more daring due to the timing of Mulholland Drive. These relationships involved betrayal and deception (although Lynch's betty was referred to as "Diane" during the scenes showing that relationship). Sunset Boulevard's is the more straight forward of the two, where the romance between Betty and Joe is complicated by her engagement and his... questionable relationship to Norma Desmond.

David Lynch was able to be a bit more daring with Mulholland Drive, touching on a more controversial issue by making Betty a lesbian. In her case, as we see at the very end, Betty/Diane had been in a relationship with Rita/Camilla Rhodes, and was crushed when she was invited to a party and watched her friend kiss another woman while a man announced his engagement to her (with hints that Camilla had been using sex as a way to move up the ranks). Betty/Diane goes on to hire a hitman to kill Rita/Camilla. Fittingly enough, Sunset Boulevard also ends with a frustrated and unstable Norma shooting Joe dead.

Hollywood and, by extension, the filmmaking scene are also both major elements for both. Mulholland Drive was arguably Lynch's first movie to really explore the world of movie-making (a theme he would later revisit in Inland Empire), but even though it is not the central focus, the whole thing provides a strong background to the main action. One of the main characters is an aspiring actress trying to make her first big break into the business, while by interesting contrast, Sunset Boulevard's Norma Desmond is a washed-up actress trying to get back into the business. In both films there is also a sub-plot that comes from a supporting character trying to make a film with some difficulty (Betty in Sunset Boulevard and Adam in Mulholland Drive).

I can't quite figure out why this is happening to me. First Fellini and now a respected Hollywood Classic from a director I know is talented. Why is it that whenever I see something that clearly inspired Lynch I can't seem to stand it and yet I still enjoy his movies. Mulholland Drive obviously draws from Sunset Boulevard on so many levels, so why is it I still enjoy the former but not the latter?

The parallels I have traced are probably just the tip of the iceberg, so what is it that makes him work so much better than the guy who inspired him? Because I am such a big fan of Lynch, and I know Sunset Boulevard was a favorite of his, I really wanted to like it, but I couldn't. What is my problem, man? What's wrong with me?

David Lynch on Sunset Boulevard, with a cow.