An Interview with Sunset Blvd's Nancy Olson Livingston

Actress Nancy Olson Livingston shot to fame at the age of 22 when she earned a Best Supporting Actress nomination for Sunset Blvd. (1950). She subsequently became one of the most in-demand actresses of the 1950s, starring alongside William Holden (Union Station, Force of Arms, etc.), John Wayne (Big Jim McLain), Jane Wyman (So Big), Bing Crosby (Mr. Music), and Van Heflin (Battle Cry). Nancy reduced her workload in the late 1950s to spend more time with her family. However, she made occasional guest appearances on TV series such as Alfred Hitchcock Presents and The Big Valley. She also starred on Broadway in The Tunnel of Love, Send Me No Flowers, and Mary, Mary. Starting in 1960, Nancy Olson Livingtson appeared in five Walt Disney films over a 12-year period, including Pollyanna, The Absent-Minded Professor, and Snowball Express. Her autobiography A Front Row Seat: An Intimate Look at Broadway, Hollywood, and the Age of Glamour will be published this November.

Café:  How would you describe your experience of working with director Billy Wilder on Sunset Blvd.?

Nancy Olson in Canadian Pacific.

Nancy Olson Livingston:  It was a profound experience because I had only done one picture before Sunset Blvd. That was Canadian Pacific (1949) with Randolph Scott, who was old enough to be my father. At least, I had the experience of being in front of the camera and knowing what the set-up was and how it operated. I was also going to UCLA and majoring in theater arts. I was under contract to Paramount, which lent me to 20th Century-Fox to do Canadian Pacific. I was fascinated that I could walk around the Paramount lot and go to the commissary to have lunch. I did that to get acquainted with what the studio was all about. I certainly knew who Billy Wilder was. I had seen his films and I was a great admirer of his work. He would stop me on the lot and engage me in long conversations: “What was it like to be born and raised in the Midwest? Your father is a doctor, what was that like? Tell me about your college life at UCLA.” It was bizarre. Why in the world would Billy Wilder want to know all these things? When I was cast in Sunset Blvd. and read the script, I realized that my character, Betty Schaefer, was an aspiring writer. She had to innately have a way of speaking that would make you believe she was a writer. She had to be able to speak well, to use language well, to be confident. I eventually came to understand that’s why I was cast. I would visit the set before I started my scenes and was always warmly welcomed. I worked with Edith Head, who did the wardrobes, and I was wearing what she wanted me to wear. And Billy said: “I don’t like that. I like what she wore yesterday when she came to visit.” So, I wore my own clothes in Sunset Blvd. I had not been in California long enough to know where to shop. I did not have a great wardrobe. What was absolutely clear was that Billy Wilder wanted me to be me. Betty Schaefer was me.

Café:  What was your biggest challenge in Sunset Blvd.?

Nancy Olson Livingston:  The first day of work. It’s my first scene in the movie where Betty comes into the office of this producer and asks about the script that Joe Gillis (William Holden), who was sitting there, wrote. Betty didn’t know who Joe Gillis was, so she was very honest about what she thought about the script. We rehearsed that scene several times. When I said that we were ready, Billy said “Shoot!” and we started the scene. There was a moment where I kind of stuttered a little, but I kept going. When the scene was finished, I said: “Please, Mr. Wilder (eventually I called him Billy), could we please do it again?” I didn’t feel totally comfortable at that moment. But he said: “Nope. It was fine.” Now, this is something that Shirley MacLaine and I talked about years later. He never wanted to shoot a scene more than once. You often had the feeling that you could do it a little better, that you didn’t bring something into it that you wanted to. I was upset about that. But I learned that you better know what you’re doing from the beginning.

Café:  Why do you think Sunset Blvd. continues to resonate with film fans over 70 years after it was made?

Nancy Olson Livingston:  Sunset Blvd. resonates not only with film fans, but with the general public. I had an experience about a year ago when I went into Saks Fifth Avenue and I walked into the cosmetics department. This man, who was the general manager, suddenly came over to me and said: “I know who you are. I saw Sunset Blvd. three weeks ago. You’re Nancy Olson.” I was 91 or 92. When you watch Sunset Blvd., it’s old-fashioned—the clothes, the cars, everything is of a different era. And yet, it has an up-to-date understanding. It feels today. And that is because it reveals the truth. I wrote about that in my book: “Sunset Blvd. tells the brutal truth about a part of the motion picture business and how it can ruin one’s life. To be exploited for other people’s profit can be both painful and humiliating. Even though one is paid sometimes a great deal and receives tremendous ego-fulfilling rewards, to be portrayed as larger than life is distorting and destroys the delicate balance between reality and fantasy.” Everything about Sunset Blvd. tells the truth. Joe Gillis is a desperate man who is at the end of his rope. He can’t pay his car loan. He can’t pay his rent. And when he gets into Norma Desmond’s house, he decides to sell his soul for his survival. And Betty Schaefer, my character, falls in love with this man who has sold his soul. It’s about human nature. It’s about who we all are and how we conduct our lives. Movie stars were a commodity back then. Marilyn Monroe is a perfect example. She was so exaggerated, but she was also vulnerable. She was created bigger and bigger than she really was. Ultimately, movie stars are thrown away, like Norma Desmond and, to a great extent, Marilyn Monroe. So, Sunset Blvd. survives because it tells the truth about an aspect of life which is kind of generally true.

Café:  I also think Sunset Blvd. has one of the great openings in movie history, with Joe’s body floating in the swimming pool as he provides the voice-over narration.

Nancy Olson Livingston:  You want to know what the real beginning was? It was filmed with bodies in a morgue. Joe is under the sheets with all the other bodies and he starts to talk with them. When the studio showed the movie at a test showing, the audience laughed. People thought it was funny and kind of ridiculous. So, Billy went back and re-edited and started at the point where Joe’s body is floating in the pool.

Café:  You made four films with William Holden, whom you have described as a good friend. What do you think was the secret to the onscreen chemistry between the two of you?

Nancy Olson and William Holden in Sunset Blvd.

Nancy Olson Livingston:  We were very alike. He was from Pasadena. I was from Milwaukee. There was a common ground. We really began to love each other. I was married. He was married. He did make a slight pass at me during the shooting of Sunset Blvd., which I’ve written about. It became so clear to him that nothing was going to ever happen. That was the end of it and we became friends. We loved hugging and kissing (laughs). I don’t know why, but it felt wonderful and comforting to be held by him. We enjoyed each other and we liked each other. Years after Bill and I had stopped working together, I was at an airport with my husband Alan Livingston and, as we were walking to board a plane, I heard a voice from behind me: “Nancy!” I turned around and it was Bill. I cried out: “Bill!” And we spontaneously ran as fast as we could and went into an embrace. He gave me a kiss and said: “My God, how are you? I haven’t seen you for two years. I understand you’re remarried now. Are you happy?” It was one of those things. A man was walking by as we were talking and laughing and he taps us on the shoulder: “Excuse me, but this is better than watching an old movie.” 

Café:  You starred in five Walt Disney films over 12 years, starting with Pollyanna in 1960. What led to your Disney connection?

Nancy Olson in The Absent-Minded Professor.

Nancy Olson Livingston:  I had not done a movie for a long time and figured I wasn’t going to do another movie. I did not want to be a movie star. That was a lesson I learned in Sunset Blvd. Being a movie star was isolating and lonely and unreal. I was 32 and I thought it was over. So, I am in Majorca, picking up my children who were visiting their father and stepmother. And I got a phone call and it was Mr. Disney. He said: “Nancy, this is Walt Disney. We are working on a movie here and are spending a lot more money than we usually do. It’s an all-star cast. Every part has been cast with a star. We have John Mills’ daughter, Hayley, who is fantastic, to play Pollyanna. We have Jane Wyman, Richard Egan, Karl Malden, Adolphe Menjou, Agnes Moorehead…and we want you.” I thought that was interesting. He said they were shooting at the end of August. I was planning on going to California to visit my parents anyway. I was living in New York at the time. But I had to bring the children back to school. Walt said I’d be finished by the middle of September. I said I had a governess who could take the kids back to school. I told him: “You know something…I’ll do it.” And that began my work with Walt Disney. I enjoyed it. My children had fun coming and visiting me on the set. I finished Pollyanna and thought that was the end of it. I never even asked what he was going to pay me. That wasn’t an issue. About a year later, I get a call from my agent saying that Disney is doing The Absent-Minded Professor with Fred MacMurray and wanted me for Fred’s love interest. Fred was twenty years older than me. Casting at that time was really out of whack. I loved Fred MacMurray’s work. He was a brilliant actor. He just had a natural sense for it. I read The Absent-Minded Professor script and decided I'd do it. I made it and then went back to New York. The next year, they decided to do a sequel because The Absent-Minded Professor was a huge success. So, I did Son of Flubber. By the way, sequels are never as good as the original. At least, that’s my opinion. I felt very comfortable on the Disney lot. Walt Disney made everyone call him Walt—including the grips. There was a unique friendliness that pervaded the lot. It was interesting and different from any place I’d ever worked before. I think Walt Disney was from the Midwest, too, and a homespun, middle-class kind of background. He was a Republican. I’m a big Democrat. Fred MacMurray was a big Republican, so the two of them got along wonderfully. Fred grew up in Wisconsin so the two of us had a kind of bond and told stories to each other about our experiences growing up. Because I wanted to work every once in a while, the Disney folks would call me. I did Smith! (1969) with Glenn Ford and Snowball Express (1972) with Dean Jones, which was not a very good film. But if you ever see Snowball Express, that was the absolute best that I ever looked when I was photographed. I saw it the other day and I was amazed. 

Café:  I think the first half of Snowball Express was pretty good, but the second half just turns silly.

Nancy Olson Livingston:  But don’t you agree that I look very well photographed?

Café:  Well, you always looked good in your films. Now, you appeared with many of the biggest stars of the 1950s and 1960s: William Holden, Jane Wyman, Fred MacMurray, John Wayne, Bing Crosby, and Glenn Ford. Who were some of your favorite co-stars and why?

John Wayne and Nancy Olson in Big Jim McLain.

Nancy Olson Livingston: Making Big Jim McLain with John Wayne was an interesting experience. It was a terrible script. When I read it, I thought that nobody was going to see this film. It’ll come out, get terrible reviews, and get shown on Saturday nights with another big film. But I thought I should have the experience of working with a true icon like John Wayne and it was made in Honolulu, which I loved. I found John Wayne to be an amazing person and very mysterious as to who he really was. Everybody called him Duke; I called him John. He never corrected me. We became really wonderful friends. For years, whenever we saw each other, we embraced and were happy to see each other. He was not the least flirtatious. Now, Bing Crosby had cold blue eyes. He put himself at a distance from almost everyone. He had a group of cronies around all the time, buttering him up. However, he and I became friends. The whole cast, crew, and director (of Mr. Music) treated me like I was a kind of charming child and that was odd. I was beginning to date Alan Lerner, my first husband, so it didn’t much matter. But I realized I was much too young to play opposite Bing as his love interest. When I was in Battle Cry, my marriage to Alan Lerner was beginning to have terrible problems. He ultimately married eight times, so he was a man with problems. I was too young and naïve to understand them, because he was fascinating and brilliant and would be with the most interesting people. He knew the best writers and producers in New York and the theatre was extremely interesting at that time. I was very happy to marry him, but it eventually became obvious it was not going to end well. There was a point where Warner Bros. called and asked if I would do Battle Cry. I said yes. There were so many stars in Battle Cry that I had a limited story with Aldo Ray. Aldo, bless him, kind of fell in love with me. I needed that. Please understand that we never had an affair. But when we had a long scene, he would prolong it--and it felt good. 

Café:  Excluding Sunset Blvd., what was your favorite of your films and why?

Nancy Olson Livingston:  The first thing that pops in my head is The Absent-Minded Professor, because it was so much fun and such a wonderful script. Fred MacMurray was marvelous. But there were very few films that lived up to Sunset Blvd. That was just an amazing experience.

Café:  You played Lloyd Bridges’ wife in the 1984 TV series Paper Dolls, which revolved around the fashion industry. How would you describe that experience?

Nancy Olson Livingston:  I only worked one or two days a week and maybe not at all the next week. It was a great cast and we all became friends. It was a nice interruption and just fun to be on a set and act a little.

Café:  Were there any roles you turned down or wish you had pursued during your career?

Nancy Olson Livingston:  No. My acting career was only a third of my life and eventually an eighth of my life. It was interesting, but it was not my life. As I write about in my book, my experiences outside of films were just as interesting or more so. Life is a fascinating, extraordinary experience. I’ve lived a long time and I’ve been extremely lucky. I was lucky having the parents I did, growing up where I did, how I grew up. Even my first marriage, which ended so painfully, had its moments. My Fair Lady was dedicated to me. I sat there and watched it being created. I had the most amazing experiences with my second husband, Alan Livingston, the president of Capitol Records. He started at Capitol after he got out of the Army and college. He went to Paramount, where they wanted him to write children’s albums, which he had never even thought of doing. But he created Bozo the Clown and other albums that became bestsellers. Then, he put Frank Sinatra with the right conductor and changed his whole career. He made Nat Cole a soloist instead of a pianist. Then, he left Capitol and went to NBC television and created Bonanza. After several years, he went back to Capitol and signed The Beach Boys. I gave parties for The Beatles and The Band. Alan Livingston ended up with the first American company in China. So, my life was varied and anybody who lives this long will have success and failure, happiness and heartbreak, sadness and joy. You can’t live this long without having all of it.

Café:  Thank you so much for much for taking the time to talk with us today.

Nancy Olson Livingston:  I enjoyed it.

A Front Row Seat: An Intimate Look at Broadway, Hollywood, and the Age of Glamour by Nancy Olson Livingston will be published by the University of Kentucky Press on November 15, 2022. It's 408 pages and features 44 black & white photos.

The Movie Quote Game (Billy Wilder Edition)

This month, we're focusing on quotes from Billy Wilder films. We will list a quote from a movie co-written by Wilder and ask you to name it. Try to answer these questions on your own without resorting to Google searches. As always, please answer no more than three questions per day so others can play.  If you have a response other than the intended one, just be able to defend it.

1. "I'd better take that thermos of cocoa with me. It helps me wash down down the pills."

2. "Do you realize that Otto spelled backwards is Otto?"

3. "Story of my life. I always get the fuzzy end of the lollipop."

4. "If I ever run into any of you bums on a street corner, just let's pretend we've never met before."

5. "You know, you see a girl a couple of times a week, just for laughs, and right away they think you're gonna divorce your wife. Now I ask you, is that fair?"

6. "I don't go to church. Kneeling bags my nylons."

7. "From the sound of your footsteps, I gathered that you were not in a particularly amiable mood."

8. "We're both trying, Don. You're trying not to drink, and I'm trying not to love you."

9. "Now, I don't propose to sit on a flagpole or swallow goldfish. I'm not a stuntman; I'm a flier."

10. "The poor dope--he always wanted a pool. Well, in the end, he got himself a pool."

11. "In Italy, the lunch hour is from one to four."

12. "Why don't you get out of that wet coat and into a dry martini?"

13. "I'm his brother-in-law, Sister. And this is his mother, Sister, and this is my wife, his sister, Sister."

14. "It's 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."

15. "Sugarpuss, uh, before you go, would you... would you, eh, yum me just once more?"

Billy Wilder's The Front Page

Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon.

Hildy Johnson (Jack Lemmon) has decided to give up his career as the star reporter for the Chicago Examiner after proposing to the love of his life (Susan Sarandon). His publisher, Walter Burns (Walter Matthau), doesn't plan to let Hildy quit without a fight. He needs his best newspaper man to cover the hanging of Earl Williams, who has been convicted of killing a cop. Walter will do pretty much anything to retain Hildy. However, his efforts may prove unnecessary, as Hildy finds it exceedingly difficult to walk away from one last big story.

Made in 1974, The Front Page is the third film version of the 1928 Broadway play written by former journalist Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur. It was first adapted for the screen in 1931 with Pat O'Brien as Hildy and Adolphe Menjou as Burns. Howard Hawks remade it in 1940 as His Girl Friday with Cary Grant as the editor and Rosalind Russell as his ace reporter. There have also been other versions produced for radio, television, and the screen (e.g., 1988's Switching Channels).

Lemmon as Hildy Johnson.

While it's hard to imagine Billy Wilder doing a remake, it's easy to see why the source material appealed to him: Wilder was a reporter in Berlin in the 1920s. He also thought that previous film versions of Hecht and MacArthur's play were hampered by the censors. In the book Billy Wilder: Interviews, the famous filmmaker noted: "I've yet to meet a newspaper man who said 'Oh, heck' or 'Oh, gosh.'" His screenplay, co-written with frequent collaborator I.A.L. Diamond, is peppered with profanity and restores the final famous line from the stage play.

As he did with his frantic 1961 comedy One, Two, Three, Wilder pushes the pace and stops just shy of overlapping the dialogue. It's not until the closing credits roll that one realizes that most of the action has taken place in the press room at the state penitentiary.

Matthau as Walter Burns.

Lemmon and Matthau are in fine form as the leads, but The Front Page is almost an ensemble piece. Vincent Gardenia shines as a corrupt sheriff clearly out of his depth. Charles Durning, David Wayne, and Herb Edelman sparkle as Hildy's rivals at other newspapers; Wayne is especially entertaining as a fussbudget that brings his own (pink) toilet paper to the prison. Finally, there's Austin Pendleton as Earl, the milquetoast killer who somehow manages to escape during his pre-execution psychological evaluation.

If there's a criticism to be leveled at The Front Page, it's the quality of the female roles. As Hildy's fiancée, Susan Sarandon has little to do but look flustered as Hildy constantly delays their train departure out of Chicago. Carol Burnett has a better part as a prostitute who takes pity on Earl--only to be skewered in the newspapers. The scene in which she faces her "accusers"--the cynical newspaper men in the press room--could have been powerful. However, Burnett isn't up to the task and one has to wonder why such a gifted comedienne was cast in the film's truly serious role.

The Front Page isn't top-drawer Billy Wilder, but it's still a funny, biting view of the world of journalism--and just as relevant today as it was in 1974 and in 1928. Maybe it wasn't called "fake news" back then, but the manipulation of headlines and news stories is nothing new. It's just that most of today's Hildy Johnsons and Walter Burns are on cable television instead of in the newspaper business.

Seven Things to Know About I.A.L. Diamond

1. Beginning with Love in the Afternoon (1957), I.A.L. Diamond wrote twelve movies with Billy Wilder over a period of 25 years. Their biggest hits included Some Like It Hot (1959), The Apartment (1960), One, Two, Three (1961), and The Fortune Cookie (1966). Diamond and Wilder won an Academy Award for original screenplay for The Apartment and were Oscar-nominated for Some Like It Hot and The Fortune Cookie.

2. In a Vanity Fair interview with Cameron Crowe, Billy Wilder talked of his collaboration with I.A.L. Diamond: "It’s always very difficult for me to say, 'This is mine and this is his,' always, except of course I have to give him credit for 'Nobody’s perfect' (the closing line in Some Like It Hot). Because that’s the thing they jump on, and I say, 'That was a temporary line, suggested by Mr. Diamond.' And it wound up to be our funniest last line."

3. Diamond was born Itek Domneci and immigrated from what's now Moldova to the U.S. when he was nine. His father changed the family's last name to Diamond.  However, it was Itek who legally changed his first name to I.A.L.--allegedly because it sounded more literary. Another story is that the I.A.L. stood for Interscholastic Algebra League; the young Diamond was a math wiz who was the league's champion. In Hollywood, Diamond became known simply as Iz.

Cary Grant and Ginger Rogers.

4. Although Diamond was known mostly for writing with Wilder, he also wrote or co-wrote films such as:  Never Say Goodbye (1946) with Errol Flynn; Monkey Business (1952) with Cary Grant and Ginger Rogers; Merry Andrew (1958) with Danny Kaye; and Cactus Flower (1969) with Walter Matthau, Ingrid Bergman, and Goldie Hawn (who won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress).

5. Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond were widely admired by their fellow screenwriters. They were nominated for the Writer Guild Association (WGA) award ten times and won three (Love in the Afternoon, Some Like It Hot, and The Apartment). The WGA honored Diamond with its honorary Laurel Award for Screenwriting Achievement in 1980.

6. I.A.L. Diamond married Barbara Ann Bentley in 1945. They remained together until his death in 1988, at age 67, of multiple myeloma. They had two children, son Paul and daughter Ann. Paul became a screenwriter and penned scripts for TV series such as Miami Vice Married...With Children, and Knight Rider.

7. In the Vanity Fair interview, Billy Wilder also described his highly successful working relationship with Diamond: "We never talked about personal things. That was the beauty of it. I came in the morning; he came in the morning. He gets The Hollywood Reporter and I get Variety. Then we exchanged the trade papers, and then we said, 'Now, where are we?' 'Oh, yes . . .' And then it goes on. He was a unique man, so unique. It was not a collaboration like with (Charles) Brackett, where he told me who his dentist is, kind of things that don’t belong, you know. But Iz Diamond was a very taciturn guy, my partner. It was wonderful to talk about dialogue, or about structure. He was always on the set with me."

Embed from Getty Images Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond.

The Dark Side of Human Nature in Billy Wilder's Ace in the Hole

Kirk Douglas as Chuck Tatum.

There are plenty of cynics in Billy Wilder's films, but none perhaps can match ambitious newspaper reporter Chuck Tatum (Kirk Douglas) in Ace in the Hole (1951). Once a star reporter, Tatum's womanizing, drinking, and tendency to bend the truth have gotten him fired from all the major newspapers. He still has enough talent to convince the publisher of the small-scale Albuquerque Sun-Bulletin to hire him. Chuck's plan is to hang around until he can find a story that will return him to the big time.

Fate provides just that when Chuck and young photographer Herbie stop at a desert gas station en route to a rattlesnake hunt. They meet platinum blonde Lorraine Minosa (Jan Sterling), whose husband Leon has become trapped in a mountain cave while hunting for Indian relics. Chuck takes charge of the situation--quickly dispatching with a sheriff's incompetent deputy--and promises Leon that he will be free in no time.

Chuck brings news to Leon.

Within 24 hours, Chuck is writing front page headlines and transforming the isolated locale into a bustling hub of activity. He even convinces the crooked county sheriff that his re-election hinges on Leon's rescue. However, Chuck and the sheriff receive "bad news" when a chief engineer informs them that Leon's rescue is imminent. They want the story to last longer, even if it means leaving Leon in the cave for a few additional days. Hence, they direct the engineer to drill from the top of the mountain, an endeavor that will require much more time to free the trapped man.

In the opening scenes, there appears to be a glimmer of humanity in Chuck Tatum. He has the pluck and courage to navigate the dangerous cave tunnels to check on Leon's condition. He calms Leon, gives him hope, and seemingly offers genuine friendship. However, Tatum's motives become questionable when he prevents others from visiting the trapped man. His access to Leon makes him powerful and he uses that to manipulate the media. By the time Tatum intentionally prevents Leon's timely rescue, it's clear that his chief concern is his own career. As Lorraine so elegantly puts it: "I've met a lot of hard-boiled eggs in my time, but you--you're twenty minutes."

Jan Sterling as Lorraine.

Billy Wilder, who also co-wrote the screenplay, softens Tatum's edges by making Lorraine an even more unappealing character. She shows no interest nor sympathy in her husband's plight. In fact, she sees it as an opportunity to get away from Leon--until Tatum convinces her that she can make money from the situation. (For his part, Tatum needs a grieving wife to write about!)

Kirk Douglas plays Tatum as a driven, ruthless man--a master manipulator who can fake empathy when reporting to the public about Leon's condition. He is both attracted to and repelled by Lorraine, whose heart may be colder than his own. The heartless wife is the kind of role that Jean Harlow would have played in the 1930s, although Jan Sterling--in her first starring role--is quite convincing.

The strength of Wilder's film, though, is the director's transformation of the isolated gas station/diner into a mecca filled with gaping tourists, news media, and even a carnival. The level of spectator interest is cleverly conveyed by showing a sign about access to the Indian caves. There is no cost in the beginning, but then there's a 25¢ admission charge which goes up to 50¢ and finally $1. The film's alternate title The Big Carnival, is actually a very appropriate one.

Ace in the Hole was a rare Billy Wilder flop when originally released. I rate it as "good" Wilder, but not among the director's best work. It's too long and the ending comes across as a compromise with the censors. Kirk Douglas and Jan Sterling both deserved Oscar consideration, but the film's only nomination was for screenplay.

There's a Spy in Stalag 17

William Holden as Sefton.

Considering it was made by one of Hollywood's most versatile directors, it's no surprise that Billy Wilder's Stalag 17 flows back and forth effortlessly between drama and comedy. Set in a German prisoner of war camp during World War II, the dramatic storyline focuses on a barracks in the midst of a streak of bad luck. The camp's commandant seems to know everything that happens among the prisoners--culminating in an ill-fated escape in which two American soldiers are gunned down.

The barracks' residents conclude there must be an informant hiding among them and their chief suspect is a wheeler-dealer named Sefton (William Holden). Sefton is determined to make his stay in Stalag 17 as comfortable as possible. He barters with his German captors and profits off his fellow prisoners by running gambling games (e.g., mice races) and selling moonshine (from his own still). None of his fellow soldiers like Sefton, except for the quiet Cookie, who functions as his assistant (and also serves as the film's narrator).

Convinced that Sefton is the barracks' spy, his fellow prisoners beat him severely. Proclaiming his innocence, Sefton warns the others that he will uncover the informant and seek retribution.

Made in 1953, Stalag 17 was based on the 1951 stage play written by Donald Bevan and Edmund Trzcinski, who both spent time in a World War II prisoner of war camp. Jose Ferrer directed the stage version, which starred John Ericson (in his Broadway debut) as Sefton. Two members of the supporting cast, Harvey Lembeck and Robert Strauss, repeated their roles for the film version.

Harvey Lembeck and Robert Strauss.

Lembeck and Strauss provide most of the film's comedic scenes. Strauss portrays Stanislas "Animal" Kuzawa, whose obsession with Betty Grable leaves him perpetually depressed (except when there's an opportunity to spy on Russian female prisoners). Shapiro tries keep up his buddy's morale, although he's self-centered enough to let Animal think letters from a creditor are from Shapiro's lady admirers back home. Both roles border on stereotypes, so it's a credit to Strauss and especially Lembeck that they make these characters believable and amusing. Strauss earned an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor.

Holden with Gil Stratton
as "Cookie."

Billy Wilder always brought out the best in William Holden, who gives a gritty performance as Sefton, There's no attempt to whitewash the character. Sefton's only explanation for his opportunist ways is that within a week of his arrival at Stalag 17, his Red Cross package, blanket, and left shoe were stolen. Sefton is a loner; he has no friends and no interest in making them. He isn't even particularly nice to Cookie, though he prefers him to the other barracks residents. Holden won a Best Actor Oscar for his performance, though supposedly he thought it was atonement for not winning in 1951 for Sunset Boulevard (ironically Jose Ferrer won that year for Cyrano de Bergerac).

Having seen Stalag 17 multiple times, the most interesting element this time around was the group dynamics. Fueled by guilt over their comrades' deaths, the barracks residents need to uncover the informant. Therefore, they hone in on the person they don't like. There is no evidence against Sefton--other than he already barters with their German captors (which would be stupid for an informant). The barracks' leader doesn't even give Sefton an opportunity to defend himself in a mock trial. A sort of mob mentality takes over, with Sefton branded as guilty and duly punished. (For this reason, Sefton's very last interaction with his fellow soldiers, near the end of the film, doesn't ring true.)

Peter Grave as a prisoner.

Many members of the supporting cast went on to greater fame. Peter Graves worked steadily in film and television before becoming a star with Mission: Impossible and later Airplane! Harvey Lembeck played Phil Silvers' sidekick on the popular Phil Silvers Show (Sgt. Bilko) and later portrayed Eric Von Zipper in several Beach Party movies. Neville Brand played heavies in many films and TV shows before becoming a good guy in the TV series Laredo. And Stalag 17 playwright Donald Bevan gained additional fame as one of Sardi's in-house caricaturists for many years.

Finally, less we forget, the TV series Hogan's Heroes borrowed liberally from Stalag 17, although the tone was decidedly different. Indeed, Donald Bevan and Edmund Trzcinski tried to sue the show's makers, but their lawsuit was unsuccessful.

Here's a scene from Stalag 17, courtesy of the Cafe's YouTube Channel:

Billy Wilder's Irma la Douce

Irma and her dog Coquette.

After ill-advisedly arresting eighteen Parisian prostitutes, the well-meaning Nestor Patou (Jack Lemmon) is fired from his job as a policeman. He takes an interest in one of the streetwalkers, Irma la Douce (Shirley MacLaine), and defends her honor when her "manager" starts to get too rough. To everyone's surprise--including Nestor's--he wins a brawl against Irma's bad-mannered pimp.

Impressed with Nestor defending her honor, she takes him to her apartment and they become lovers. She also convinces Nestor to become her new manager. He's uncomfortable with the arrangement and considers getting a job, but Irma won't have it. She explains: "You don't want the other girls to think I can't support my man."

Shirley MacLaine and Jack Lemmon.

Determined to find a way to keep Irma off the streets, Nestor and a friend hatch a scheme. Nestor disguises himself as a wealthy British client, known as Lord X, who pays Irma $500 to play cards with him for two nights a week. She is thrilled with the arrangement! Nestor is pleased with the outcome, but now has to work secretly to earn the money to pay Irma. As his friend tells him, this is not a "sustainable economic model."

Irma la Douce (1963) and The Apartment (1960) share the same stars (Lemmon and MacLaine), director (Billy Wilder), and screenwriters (Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond). Although Irma was based on a French play and a successful Broadway musical, Wilder no doubt saw it as a likely extension of The Apartment. In his earlier film, Jack Lemmon's insurance worker loans out his apartment to his business colleagues in hopes of getting a promotion. That's not the same as a pimp, but he indirectly uses sex for financial gain. He becomes displeased with the arrangement only after learning that a woman he likes (played by Shirley MacLaine) is having an affair with one of the executives using his apartment.

Lemmon as Lord X.

Yet, while The Apartment was a superb sophisticated comedy-drama, Irma la Douce is a broad comedy that works reasonably well. Lemmon and MacLaine are still magical together and the best scenes--such as when Irma casually invites Nestor to share her bed--are the ones in which they share the screen. She earned an Oscar nomination as the streetwalker with a penchant for green (even her underwear is green) and who considers her job a profession. (Amazingly, she was Wilder's third choice after Marilyn Monroe and Elizabeth Taylor dropped out). As in Some Like It Hot, Jack Lemmon essentially gives two performances, as Nestor and as Lord X (he is virtually unrecognizable, in appearance and voice).

James Caan as a client.

Lou Jacobi headlines the supporting cast as Nestor's unlikely friend, a bartender with experiences in pretty much every field of work. Look quickly and you can also spot a number of now-familiar faces: Bill Bixby, James Caan, Howard McNear (Floyd on The Andy Griffith Show), and Grace Lee Whitney (Janet Rand on the original Star Trek TV series).

If the great Billy Wilder had a flaw as a director, it was editing his own screenplays. Like several of his later movies, Irma la Douce is inflated at a whopping 143 minutes. Wilder could have easily trimmed a half-hour without losing any plot or characterization.  It's also puzzling that he chose not to include the musical numbers from the Broadway hit--especially once the multitalented MacLaine was cast as the lead.

Of course, Shirley MacLaine did get a chance to show her singing and dancing chops six years later in Sweet Charity (1969). Although she played a dancer-for-hire (or taxi dancer), her character was based on the titular heroine of Federico Fellini's Nights of Cabiria--who was a prostitute.

Billy Wilder's Game of Deception...and the Wonderment of Jack Lemmon

Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon.

It can be a challenge to review a classic like Billy Wilder's Some Like It Hot, because so much has been written about it. So, instead of a traditional review, I want to focus on Wilder's theme of deception and also pay tribute to that marvelous actor known as Jack Lemmon.

For those who have never seen Some Like It Hot (and you should truly rectify that immediately), here's a plot synopsis. Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon play Joe and Jerry, a couple of speakeasy musicians in Chicago in 1929. After losing their jobs when police raid the joint, they struggle to find employment. They become so desperate that Jerry suggests they pose as women for an available gig in sunny Florida with an all-girls band. When Joe and Jerry inadvertently witness a gangland killing, they need to go on the lam--and what better place than Florida disguised as women in an all-girls band?

Marilyn Monroe as Sugar.

The theme of deception is a favorite for Billy Wilder, who used it for comic effect earlier in The Major and the Minor. That 1942 comedy starred Ginger Rogers as a young woman who poses as a 12-year-old to save on train fare. With Some Like It Hot, Wilder ups the ante by adding several layers of deception. The most obvious one, of course, is Joe and Jerry posing as female musicians Josephine and Daphne. But Wilder delves deeper into deception when Joe decides to woo Sugar (Marilyn Monroe), the band's attractive blonde singer.

Junior explains the Shell Oil name.

Joe, in the guise of Josephine, befriends Sugar and learns about her perfect man: a gentle, sweet, helpless millionaire with a yacht or train who wears glasses ("they get those weak eyes from reading those long tiny little columns in The Wall Street Journal").  Possessing that knowledge, Joe transforms himself into Junior, the sensitive, glasses-wearing, Wall Street Journal-reading heir to the Shell Oil fortune. It's no wonder that Sugar falls for him immediately.

Of course, Sugar isn't above a few lies herself. When she first meets Junior, she implies that she comes from a wealthy family and even introduces Daphne as a "Vassar girl." Earlier in the film, we also learn that Sugar deceives the band's manager by swearing off her fondness for alcoholic beverages--while keeping a handy flask hidden under her garter belt.

It's no plot spoiler to reveal that, even after the truth comes out, Joe and Sugar wind up together. Still, one has to wonder about the success of a relationship built on deception. Fortunately, this is reel life--not real life--and so a likable cast and a well-written script make us forget about the realities of the situation (just as we do at the end of The Graduate).

Daphne dancing with Osgood.

Reality has nothing to do with the other romantic relationship in Some Like It Hot: Daphne's wooing by a real millionaire named Osgood Fielding III (Joe E. Brown). After a night of dancing, Osgood proposes marriage and Daphne, or rather Jerry, actually considers it because Osgood is a nice guy and provides security. When Joe tries to point out the obvious challenges, Jerry replies: "I'm not stupid. I know there's a problem. His mother. We need her approval. But I'm not worried, because I don't smoke."

Jack Lemmon gives a tour-de-force performance as Jerry/Daphne, transforming from a man who sees women as sex objects to one who can see them as friends. Joe's first remark when he sees Sugar is: "That's just like jello on springs." But later when a man pinches him as Daphne, he's not amused. His growing friendship with Sugar, even though it's in the guise of Daphne, is probably the strongest relationship in the film.

Daphne on the train.

Lemmon has the best scenes in the movie, including my personal favorite. After he covers up for Sugar's drinking on the train ride to Florida, she joins Jerry (as Daphne) in his upper berth. The scantily-clad Sugar snuggles up close to him and, upon discovering his cold feet, begins to rubs them with her feet. Jerry turns away briefly and mutters a reminder to himself: "I'm a girl. I'm a girl."

It's a great line, a classic Wilder situation, and features one of the finest actors of his generation. Who could ask for more?

Seven Things to Know About Billy Wilder

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1. Billy Wilder only directed 26 feature-length films and three of those were released in 1957 (The Spirit of St. Louis, Love in the Afternoon, and Witness for the Prosecution). In contrast, Alfred Hitchcock directed over 50 movies.

2. He was one of the first "script doctors." Wilder allegedly worked "uncredited" on the scripts for The Bishop's Wife, That Certain Age, Mutiny on the Bounty (1960), Casino Royale (1967), and others.

The Apartment won six Oscars.

3. Billy Wilder collaborated with I.A.L. Diamond on 12 screenplays and with Charles Brackett on 11 more. He and Diamond received Best Screenplay nominations for Some Like It Hot and The Fortune Cookie; they won an Oscar for The Apartment. Wilder and Brackett received Oscar nominations for Ninotchka, Hold Back the Dawn, and A Foreign Affair. They won a Best Screenplay Oscar for The Lost Weekend and Sunset Boulevard.

4. Neither Diamond nor Brackett worked with Billy Wilder on Witness for the Prosecution. In adapting Agatha Christie's popular stage play, Wilder and co-writers Harry Kurnitz and Larry Marcus thought the story needed some humor. They added Nurse Plimsoll (Elsa Lanchester), who cares for the recovering Sir Wilfrid during the trial. Lanchester earned a Best Supporting Actress nomination for her performance. Incidentally, Kurnitz described his collaboration with Billy Wilder as "working with Mr. Hyde and Mr. Hyde."

Liam Neeson as Schindler.

5. In his Steven Spielberg biography, author Joseph McBride notes that Billy Wilder was interested in directing Schindler's List. Wilder lost his mother, grandmother, and stepfather in the Holocaust. When he saw Steven Spielberg's finished film, he said: "The movie is absolutely perfection."

6. Wilder compiled an impressive collection of modern art, which featured the works of acclaimed artists such as Pablo Picasso. When Christie's auctioned off some of his collection in 1989, Wilder earned $32.6 million.

Billy Wilder and Gloria Swanson.

7. Billy Wilder is responsible for a number of famous quotes, but my favorite is this one about filmmaking: "I have ten commandants. The first nine are: Thou shalt not bore. The tenth is: Thou shalt have right of final cut."

Billy Wilder's The Fortune Cookie

Like Alfred Hitchcock, Billy Wilder found his career at the crossroads in the 1960s. Successes such as The Apartment and Irma la Douce were offset by flops like Kiss Me, Stupid and the under-appreciated One, Two, Three. It's almost as if he couldn't quite grasp what appealed to the public. I'm not suggesting that Wilder ever intentionally tried to appeal to mass audiences, but his aesthetic seemed to align with movie audiences for most of his career.

Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau would become one of the great teams.

Made in 1966, The Fortune Cookie was Billy Wilder's last mainstream hit. It's an uneven dramedy that perfectly encapsulates Wilder's challenges during the decade. It's also notable for pairing Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau for the first time.

Lemmon doing his wheelchair dance.

Lemmon plays cameraman Henry Hinkle, who suffers a concussion when a Cleveland Browns football player accidentally plows into him during a game. Henry recovers with no side effects, but his brother-in-law--an ambulance-chasing lawyer nicknamed Whiplash Willie--wants to sue CBS, the Cleveland Browns, and Municipal Stadium for $1 million. Initially, nice guy Henry rejects the idea, but he falters when Willie (Matthau) convinces him it may be a way to win back his ex-wife Sandy.

The Fortune Cookie works best as a comedy, with Matthau's shyster pulling out all stops to keep the scam going. In one scene, Willie has an Oriental lunch delivered to the hospital so the "delivery man" can administer drugs to numb Henry's leg so he can pass tests given by the insurance company's doctors. When Henry asks if the delivery man can administer drugs, Willie confirms that the man is a doctor...a veterinarian who lost his license to practice.

Judi West as the self-centered Sandy. 

The film's other subplots deal with Boom Boom Jackson, the guilt-stricken football player who believes he's paralyzed Henry, and Henry's ambitious ex-wife Sandy (Judi West). In a perfect scene, Wilder tells us all we need to know about Sandy. When she calls Henry, we see her laying in a bed with disheveled hair, smoking a cigarette, in a squalid apartment with a man in the shower behind her. Her compassionate comment to Willie about Henry: "Poor bastard...I just hope he winds up with a little money."

Willie in his cluttered office.

Despite effective turns from Lemmon and West, The Fortune Cookie belongs to Walter Matthau. After years as a supporting player in dramas and comedies, he had perfected his rascally on-screen persona. He won a best-supporting Oscar for his portrayal of Whiplash Willie and would graduate to lead roles beginning with his next film A Guide for the Married Man (967). It helps, of course, to have Wilder and frequent collaborator I.A.L. Diamond write your dialogue. And, of course, Willie is a great character, because he's not only devious, he really is a smart attorney.

The Fortune Cookie earned three other Oscar nominations, including one for original screenplay for Wilder and Diamond. It hasn't aged as well as other Wilder films and it's too leisurely at 125 minutes. Still, Matthau, Lemmon, and West (this was sadly her only major role) are three fine reasons to watch it. It was Wilder's last film for four years. He would return to the screen in 1970 with The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, a different spin on the famous sleuth.

The Mount Rushmore of Film Directors

Hitchcock on Mount Rushmore--from
the North By Northwest poster.

If there was a Mount Rushmore of great American directors, who would you put on it? I pondered this question recently and then posed it to three other classic movie bloggers whom I admire. I gave them two criteria: (1) They could only pick four directors...because it's Mount Rushmore; (2) Their decisions had to be based on the directors' American-made films (after all, we're talking about an American monument here). Thus, directors such as Alfred Hitchcock and Fritz Lang could be considered--but not international greats like Federico Fellini, Luis Bunuel, and Akira Kurosawa. (And, yes, when I say "American," I am referring to the   U.S.--not all of North and South America.)

The Master of Suspense.

Personally, I had little trouble in coming up with three of my four choices. I consider Alfred Hitchcock to be the greatest film director...period...based on his storytelling skills, the complexity of his film's themes, and the body of his work. I don't think another director will ever be able to replicate the astounding number of superb films he made between 1940 and 1964--a period that included Rebecca, Notorious, Shadow of a Doubt, Rear Window, Vertigo, North By Northwest, Psycho, and Marnie. My second choice is Billy Wilder, possibly the most versatile of all filmmakers. He made classic film noirs (Double Indemnity), sophisticated comedies (Some Like It Hot), screwball comedies (One, Two, Three), and courtroom dramas (Witness for the Prosecution). His best films integrated drama and comedy so expertly that they created something uniquely Wilder (e.g., The Apartment, Stalag 17). That brings me to my third choice, a director whose films gave rise to a now common adjective "Capraesque," which one online dictionary defined as "of or evocative of the movies of Frank Capra, often promoting the positive social effects of individual acts of courage." Capra's film's restored faith in human nature when America needed it most--during the Great Depression and after World War II. He also helped make stars out of Gary Cooper and James Stewart. That brings me to my final spot and I struggled mightily here. I considered Richard Brooks, Samuel Fuller, Michael Curtiz, Robert Wise, and Otto Preminger. In the end, though, I went with Anthony Mann. A versatile director like Wilder, Mann helped define film noir in the 1940s with tough, dark films like Raw Deal and T-Men. In the 1950s, he reinvigorated the Western genre with five superb films starring James Stewart. Mann's protagonists were cynical men with violent pasts who found redemption, often by becoming part of a forgiving community (The Far Country, Bend of the River). In many ways, Mann's protagonists paved the way for the flawed "heroes" that dominated American cinema in the 1960s and 1970s.

Ernst Lubitsch.

The Lady Eve, Lady Eve's Reel Life: If not Mount Rushmore, these four filmmakers at least deserve to have their faces carved in stone on the hillside under the Hollywood sign. Here’s why: Alfred Hitchcock was a master of the art of what he called “pure cinema”-- visual storytelling (consider the famed crane shot in Notorious that zooms in on the key in Ingrid Bergman’s hand). And no one has surpassed his ability to draw the viewer so completely into a film or, at times, to identify with the villain (Robert Walker retrieving his lighter in Strangers on a Train, Anthony Perkins sinking a car into a swamp in Psycho). Long touted “the master of suspense,” Hitchcock was, more than anything, a cinematic genius (see also Rear Window and Vertigo). The comedies of Ernst Lubitsch literally sparkle (even the screen itself seems luminous). Brimming with charm and sophistication, his films offer a knowing yet sympathetic glimpse into human yearnings and foibles. His best work (the likes of Ninotchka, The Shop Around the Corner and To Be or Not to Be) has rightly been likened to the soufflé, a deceptively lighter than air concoction that is also deliciously rich and deeply satisfying. "Screwball" comedy existed before Preston Sturges started writing and directing his own films, but he took the concept into another realm. Original and decidedly eccentric, his best films neatly weave sly commentary on social values into byzantine plots involving cockeyed characters who rattle off snappy/smart dialogue at a mile a minute. Unique barely describes The Great McGinty, The Lady Eve, Sullivan’s Travels, The Palm Beach Story, Unfaithfully Yours.... Billy Wilder, like Hitchcock, was a top filmmaker from the ‘40s to the ‘60s. But Wilder began his career as a journalist and so, naturally, his films are marked by strong screenwriting and fine-tuned dialogue. His cynical world view made him a natural for noir, and Double Indemnity stands as a pillar of the genre. But Wilder wasn’t one to be pigeon-holed, as his wild, satirical romp Some Like It Hot would prove. Noir, farce, drama or “dramedy,” Wilder had as much range as he had skill.

Frank Capra.

Annmarie Gatti, Classic Movie Hub Blog:  If I could put four American directors on Mount Rushmore, who would they be???  Well, that's a really tough question...and one that will probably have me second guessing myself for quite some time--but, that said, after much "agony" and deliberation, my picks would be Frank Capra, Billy Wilder, Alfred Hitchcock and John Ford. Here's why:  Frank Capra--for creating some of the most beloved 'feel-good' films of all time that champion the common man and the basic goodness of human nature. Billy Wilder -for his use of script to drive the story (vs elaborate cinematography) and his ability to push the boundaries of mainstream entertainment by expanding the range of acceptable subject matter. Alfred Hitchcock--for his belief in the superiority of suspense over surprise, and his cinematic approach to filmmaking that communicates via images and editing to maximize fear and anxiety. And, last but not least, John Ford--for his sweeping visuals and dramatic vistas, master storytelling, and iconic portrayals of heroes and anti-heroes of the American West. 

D.W. Griffith.

Cliff Aliperti, Immortal Ephemera:  My Mount Rushmore of American directors? Difficult. I approached my selections thinking not necessarily of my favorites, but of the four I'd consider most iconic in their representation of America and the American film industry, while being among my favorites. Faces I'd carve in stone and be happy to leave there forever. That has to start with D.W. Griffith. For all of the issues over the content of The Birth of a Nation (1915), at least the movie is strong enough to warrant our talking about it a hundred years later, fighting over the same issues that incensed a hundred years ago. Griffith's early features that follow Birth are reliably accessible, well-told stories that at least perfect technique if not actually innovating it. If there were no Griffith, silent film would have been a much tougher sell for me during my formative movie-watching years, so Griffith gets the first nod just for all that he’s responsible for exposing me to. It gets more difficult from there because I've seen so many more films in the decades that follow, but two directors whose work I think of as intrinsically American are King Vidor, whose stories are so wonderfully visual while being grounded by the American Dream, and Frank Capra, who relied more on situation and dialogue to show the everyman overcoming bigger challenges. If Vidor had only done his war, wheat, and steel trilogy—The Big Parade (1925), Our Daily Bread (1934), and An American Romance (1944)—he'd have done enough, but that doesn't even include his best film, The Crowd (1928). Capra kept telling the same story by the time of Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936), Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939), and Meet John Doe (1941), with his underdogs fighting for their place in so many of his other films as well. If Griffith led me to enjoy more silent films then it was Capra, even earlier in my film watching years with titles like Mr. Smith and It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), who allowed me to accept “old” black and white movies as if they were no different from last week’s release. A similar underdog spirit goes to the fourth face on my Rushmore, William Wellman, who could masterfully handle topics from any genre no matter the size of the movie and always seemed to have a great time doing it. A working-class director in that he reveled in the work, Wellman's characters could be as light as his subject matter was heavy. Out of his Great War experiences, he was dedicated to portraying male camaraderie, but I think he had an even keener insight into female characters, especially during the Depression years.

Witness for the Prosecution: It's Billy Wilder--Not Hitch!

A dear friend of mine has referred to Witness for the Prosecution as an Alfred Hitchcock movie on more than one occasion. That's understandable--it looks, smells, and feels like a Hitch pic. The fact that it was directed by Billy Wilder is a testament to Mr. Wilder's versatility as a filmmaker. The Austrian-born writer-director was adept at making screwball comedies (One, Two, Three), film noir (Double Indemnity), satire (The Apartment), sophisticated comedy (Sabrina), drama (The Lost Weekend), and romance (Avanti!). In Witness for the Prosecution, he expertly blends courtroom drama and humor--in the best Hitchcockian tradition.

Tyrone Power as the defendant.

Charles Laughton stars as Sir Wilfred Robarts, a grumpy but shrewd London barrister who was recently released from the hospital after suffering a heart attack. Against the advice of his physicians, Sir Wilfred takes on a murder case (his specialty). His client is an affable chap named Leonard Vole (Tyrone Power) accused of killing an elderly lady. Vole's alleged motive is that the murder victim left him a substantial amount of money in her will. His alibi rests on the testimony of his German wife Christine (Marlene Dietrich), who leaves a decidedly cold impression with Sir Wilfred.

Based on a short story and stage play by Agatha Christie, Witness for the Prosecution is justly famous for its twist ending--which is flawlessly executed. It was probably one of the first films that marketed its climatic twist. Indeed, a voiceover prior to the closing credits asked moviegoers not to reveal the ending to their friends. However, like Hitchcock's Psycho, Witness is a strong film that's enhanced by its famous plot device. It certainly doesn't rely on a clever trick to be entertaining.

The film's success can be attributed to those old basics of good acting and good script writing. Laughton, who had a tendency to ham up some of his later roles, finds the perfect blend of seriousness and humor. He is matched by Dietrich and his wife Elsa Lanchester as Miss Plimsoll, a nurse charged with the unenviable task of caring for Sir Wilfred. Lanchester and Laughton make a delightful comic team, one savvy enough to generate laughs out of the contents of a thermos. Dietrich has a more difficult role, especially since her character is a conundrum for much of the film. However, when it comes to her big scenes, she exceeds all expectations.

Nurse Plimsoll and Sir Wilfred.

There was a time when I considered Tyrone Power to be the film's weak link. I still don't believe his performance ranks with the ones delivered by his co-stars. However, I have gradually come to the realization that Power is portraying a character playing a character. That's got to be a challenge, so, on that level, he does a solid job as the smarmy Vole.

Marlene Dietrich in the witness box.

In adapting Christie's play, Wilder and co-writers Larry Marcus and Harry Kurnitz made two significant additions. First, they added scenes showing how Leonard met Christine and later befriended the murder victim. The latter doesn't add much to the plot, but the scenes of Christine soften her character and help justify actions taken later in the film. Dietrich's nightclub number was reportedly based on a scene cut from Wilder's A Foreign Affair (1948), which starred Dietrich, Jean Arthur, and John Lund. The cabaret set cost over $75,000 to build.

Still, Wilder's most significant contribution to the script was the creation of the delightful Nurse Plimsoll. Many of the film's best lines are delivered by her or directed at her by the gruff barrister (Miss Plimsoll: "Sir Wilfred, we mustn't forget that we've had a teeny weeny heart attack."). Plus, Wilder gets a lot of mileage out of Sir Wilfred's amusing attempts to hide his vices (e.g., cigars and brandy) from Miss Plimsoll's watchful eyes.

Witness for the Prosecution earned six Academy Award nominations, including Best Director for Wilder, Best Actor for Laughton, and Best Supporting Actress for Lanchester. It was remade for television in 1982 with another impressive cast: Ralph Richardson as Sir Wilfred, Deborah Kerr as Miss Plimsoll, and Diana Rigg as Christine. I haven't seen that version since it's original broadcast, but recall it being very well done.