A Few Thoughts On MY WEEK WITH MARILYN

"She was a star. Every time you saw her, she was something. Even when she was angry, it was just a remarkable person. A remarkable person, and in spades when she was on the screen."

-Billy Wilder

The Movie

I loved every second of this movie. It swept me away into its world and come the end, I didn't want it to stop.

Marylin died. She stopped dead. All we were left with was a tragic tale of one of the most beautiful people who ever lived. The film was like wish-fulfilment, it gave us time with her that we never thought we'd have again. Her life was so painful and she was so misunderstood, that its comforting to know that, in between all the madness, she had stolen moments of joy with people who cared about her.

I took a lot of myself into this movie. I guess that's why I enjoyed it more than many others who have reviewed it quite negatively. The film is about Colin Clark's first job in the movies, at Pinewood Studios, and I could relate. Your first time working at Pinewood is unforgettable. The big stages, the bland corridors, the movie stars. When you step into the studios you feel the history of cinema all around you. With 'My Week With Marilyn' we get to see it, too.

"She was just a continuous puzzle, without any solution"

-Billy Wilder

Michelle Williams

There aren't movie stars anymore. We have celebrities and gossip, but not everyone is grabbed. Monroe was something different. The saddest thing is that no-one quite knows what it was. It's impossible to put your finger on. Yet somehow, Michelle Williams was able to bring it alive again with her portrayal. I'm happy for the Academy to pack up the Oscar and post it to her now. She brought me closer to Marilyn Monroe than I ever expected to be. A truly phenomenal performance. 

Eddie Redmayne 

I don't even know this guy. He was good. But this film was all about Marilyn.

Judi Dench
She's a class act. 

Kenneth Branagh
I've never really been a fan, but he was perfect. Managed to be quietly and almost accidentally hilarious all the way through. We could feel his frustration. 


Emma Watson 
When the film finished, I talked to my friend Anna about Watson. I said that I think her career has peaked. Where can she go after Potter? What does she have left to say as an artist? You look at Michelle Williams and you could see she had something extra way back in the 'Dawson's Creek' days. Emma Watson is a decent actress and she's pretty, but do we care? Can she take us on a journey that doesn't involve wizards? I'm not sure.

Adrian Hodges (Writer) - Simon Curtis (Director)
They nailed it. Not only was the film about the magic of old movies, it felt like an old movie. Classic storytelling. The humor was small yet well played, the acting was spot on, the dialogue believable. It all added up to a very satisfying experience where we got transported back into the days of Marilyn Monroe. 

Cineworld Haymarket, London
We were in screen 1. There were only a handful of people. It's perfect. This cinema has history. It added to the experience. Everyone there loved the movie. How do I know? I just know. You can tell by the silence, by the laughs, by how people talk when the movie is over. 

"She was very tough to work with.  But what you had, by hook or crook, once you saw it on the screen, it was just amazing. Amazing, the radiation that came out. And she was, believe it or not, an excellent dialogue actress. She knew where the laugh was. She knew. But then again, we would have three hundred extras, Miss Monroe is called for nine o'clock, and she would appear at five in the afternoon. And she would stand there and say, 'I'm sorry, but I lost my way to the studio.' She had been under contract there for seven years!'

-Billy Wilder (Directed Marilyn in 'The Seven Year Itch' & 'Some Like It Hot')

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The Apartment - It's A Must, Gracious Living-wise

For one week I will be focusing on the film "The Apartment." This is the first in a series of articles. 

I was responding to an email interview yesterday, about one of my own films, and one of the questions was, "what does this film mean to you?" I didn't have a clue. It's the same with the films that mean the most to me - I am terrible at describing it. It may be that I am too close to them, but I am beginning to suspect that it's something to do with the types of films I love. When you love 'The Apartment,' you might recall a particular scene, or great line, or a moment between C. C. Baxter and Fran Kubelik. But the reason you love 'The Apartment' isn't any of those things, at least it isn't for me -- it's something intangible - a magic that permeates through it. You feel it when you read the script, you see it in Jack Lemmon's face and you feel it in them musical score. Some films rise far above just picture and sound, and this Billy Wilder film is one of them.

"It's hard enough to write a good drama, it's much harder to write a good comedy, and it's hardest of all to write a drama with comedy. Which is what life is."

-Jack Lemmon 

That quote is true. Comedy is tough to write, but some people can do it. Even fewer can make it work on screen. When you well and truly laugh at a movie, it's a rare thing. When you think about it, very few comedies stick out for people. For people of my generation, they'll mention a film like "See No Evil, Hear No Evil" or "Cool Runnings." They are very funny films. But why, what was it about them films? It's hard to say. 

Even rarer than those, are films that mean something beyond the laughs --- that resonate with who you are, how you're feeling, and how you see the world. That is where 'The Apartment' excels -- it mixes the painful with the joyful, in a way that only a few --namely Billy Wilder, Charlie Chaplin and Frank Capra-- were able to do. Even writer/directors like Woody Allen try, but rarely quite make it, because it's just too hard to get the potion right.

I was watching 'The Apartment' last night, and it was remarkable to me how Miss Kubelik is in love with Mr. Sheldrake (the other man), right up until the very end of the picture. There's a real sadness underlying the film --- where we see the wonderful C.C. "Buddy Boy" Baxter looking after Fran, falling in love with her, while she painfully pines for another man who doesn't love her in the way she needs. 

And before we get all serious, we have to remind ourselves of the premise. This is a film about a man who can't go home at night because the executives at work are using his apartment to entertain their mistresses. The set-up is a hilarious one. Its simplicity is also wonderfully complex-- and enables to plot to bend and shift in subtle, and masterful ways.

The screenplay is, for me, the greatest script ever written. I don't know if Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond were on a direct line to God, or whether they were on some amazing drugs --- but whatever it was, they managed to reach for the stars and produce a document that is as beautiful, touching, poetic, and hilarious as anything ever written. The screenplay bounces into life the second you read it. 

"On November first, 1959, the
population of New York City was
8,042,783. If you laid all these
people end to end, figuring an
average height of five feet six and
a half inches, they would reach
from Times Square to the outskirts
of Karachi, Pakistan. I know facts
like this because I work for an
insurance company --"
C.C. Baxter, Opening Voiceover.

I know that many of you love this film like I do, and many of you will never have seen it. I am also aware that many of you won't share my enthusiasm for it -- but I hope you will indulge me this week, as I attempt to dig deeper into the film, to work out why it was magic (at least, to me), and to also figure out why, on a personal level, I hold it so dearly. That's fascinating to me. Why do we watch some films a million times over? What IS IT? 

 Where we go, my place or yours?

Might as well go to mine - everybody else does.

If this post seems a bit clunky and all over the place, It's because it is. These posts aren't a know-it-all trawl of information and analysis -- they're a guy trying to get to grips with a movie he adores.  This is the week of 'The Apartment,' and I hope you'll stick around for it.

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The Unknown Wilder

A few weeks ago I asked my friend, Kim Wilder-Lee, if she would write something for Kid In The Front Row. She said yes, and since then, I have been restlessly anticipating it. Kim's great uncle is one of my all-time film directing heroes, Billy Wilder. She is also related to another wonderful Wilder, who she will tell you all about. And if that's not all - she is also a fantastic writer in her own right. The best thing I can do now is shut up and hand the writing over to a Wilder. 


THE UNKNOWN WILDER By Kim Wilder

Growing up with the name Wilder in Hollywood has had its fair share of plusses. Those old enough to remember my great uncle Billy have been awed and proud to know my connection to him and to call the relative of a seven-time Oscar winner, friend. People love to hear of Billy’s numerous and celebrated bons mots and marvel at his well known, rapier-like wit.

Upon learning my last name, many younger people have immediately assumed that I am related to Gene and wonder why I in no way resemble the comic genius with the crazy red hair and sparkling blue eyes. These same people are stunned to later learn that Gene Wilder was really born Gene Rosenberg and that Wilder is simply a stage name. But there is a forgotten Wilder very few people remember – also a filmmaker of note – who was in fact, my grandfather.

Willie Wilder was born in Sucha (now Poland) in 1904 and he and his family moved to Vienna in 1916. Billy Wilder’s older brother emigrated to the United States in the 1920s and became a very successful businessman in New York. He did not enter filmmaking until the 1940s and did so under the name of W. Lee Wilder (“Willie” was considered too close to “Billy,” who despite actually being born “Samuel,” had claimed the name since childhood). While certainly less famous than his sibling, Willie, along with many of his European-born filmmaker brethren, is currently the subject of a fantastic film noir book by UCLA media studies professor Vince Brook, entitled Driven to Darkness: Jewish Émigré Directors and the Rise of Film Noir. The reason that I am so proud of his inclusion in this beautifully written and deeply researched book is that up until now, Willie’s contributions to film have been largely ignored in the face of Billy’s astounding and celebrated accomplishments.

Billy is obviously known for directing such enduring classics as “Sunset Boulevard,” “The Apartment,” “Double Indemnity,” “Stalag 17,” “The Lost Weekend” and “Some Like it Hot,” and for his screenplays for “Ninotchka” and “Sabrina,” among many others. But Willie Wilder left a legacy of depth and breadth in the B-film world that is quite remarkable, given the fact that he was neither a writer nor a producer.

According to Driven to Darkness author Brook, “….the work of Willy (sic) Wilder – or W. Lee Wilder, the filmmaking sobriquet that Willy took on to avoid confusion with the likes of Billy Wilder, William Wyler and ‘Wild Bill’ Wellman – is of inordinate interest. To my mind, several of Willy’s films are of considerable interest both aesthetically and thematically, not only from a Jewish émigré perspective but also in their own right.”

“As for Willy’s auteurist credentials, in terms of property selection and creative control these likely surpassed those of the high-flying Billy – at least throughout the early 1950s when Billy remained contractually bound to Paramount Studios.

Left-To-Right: Anthony Mann, Erich von Stroheim, Mary Beth Hughes, Dan Duryea and Willie Wilder on the set of "The Great Flamarion" (1945).

Despite being almost completely neglected by Hollywood biographers and writers about film noir, Willie (as he spelled it) made more noir films than any other director, with the exception of Fritz Lang, Robert Siodmak and Alfred Hitchcock – a total of eight. They include “The Glass Alibi” (1946), “The Pretender” (1947), “Once a Thief” (1950), “Three Steps North” (1951), “The Big Bluff” (1955) and “Bluebeard’s Ten Honeymoons” (1960). The count grows by one, if you consider the first film he produced (not directed), 1945’s “The Great Flamarion,” starring Erich von Stroheim, which Willie produced, financed himself and released through Republic Pictures.*

Sadly, my grandfather and his brother, Billy, were not close. In fact, despite my grandfather, who was already very well established in business on Long Island, NY, helping out his penniless brother when he first came to this country, Billy has always spoken very uncharitably about him. But to those who knew Billy, this was typical of the seven-time Oscar winner. Billy only cared about his famous Hollywood friends and being the center of their creative, artistic world. According to my great aunt, Audrey, Billy’s wife, “All great men are difficult,” and Billy was no exception. My grandfather, Willie, on the other hand, was a kind and considerate man who was a wonderful father to my dad, Myles, and a loving grandfather to me. Which is why I am so grateful to Vince Brook and his wonderful book that celebrates the works of both men – especially that of my grandfather, and lauds his work alongside that of other cinematic legends. Willie left an important film noir legacy and I am proud of his innovation, independence and creativity. He was an important film noir filmmaker and a terrific Grandpa. I hope you get a chance to seek out and view his work.

* Driven to Darkness: Jewish Émigré Directors and the Rise of Film Noir, by Vincent Brook. Rutgers University Press, 2009.

Kim Wilder is a third generation Hollywoodian. Her grandfather, Willie, was a film noir producer and director, her great uncle Billy is the noted Academy Award-winning writer, producer and director, and father Myles, was a respected, Emmy-nominated television writer and producer. A Journalism major at the University of Southern California, she heeded the call of her genes and spent the majority of her career in entertainment, focusing on public relations for several television studios where she handled such groundbreaking series as “The Simpsons,” “Entertainment Tonight,” and “The X-Files,” as well as publicity for celebrities including Johnny Mathis, Julie Andrews, Sidney Sheldon, David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, Queen Latifah and many more. An avid polo player, Wilder has written a screenplay that remains as yet unsold, and lives in Temecula, CA with her two children and two Weimaraners.

KIM WILDER

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Directing My Writing.

I have always been a writer/director. I could possibly be just a writer, but I could definitely not be just a director. How I am limits me in many ways. If you gave me a thirty second Dove commercial to direct I wouldn't really know what I'm doing, and I wouldn't really care. This means that the more lucrative side of directing is not really available to me. If Hollywood offers me the chance to direct Twilight 7, I wouldn't have a clue what I am doing and would have to say no. Although I might try and get a meeting with Kristen Stewart first..

I have a very strong understanding of my own writing, and I know how to direct it. I have known this, weirdly, since I first thought about film directing. I knew I would always write and direct. What I am good at is knowing who my characters are and being able to go into them and feel who they are. So, for example, if I have a character I've written called Vera; as a director I am able to instantly know what she is feeling, what she wants, and what her problems are, just by looking at the page for a few seconds. I can morph into my characters. However, when looking at someone else's script, I can only interpret them, and guess. They haven't funneled through me in the same way. And that's why the idea of directing someone else's writing or, indeed, just giving script feedback, is always very difficult for me. Because I don't really know what I'm doing, or what my instincts are. But with my own work, it's different.

Tellingly, my favorite films tend to be by writer/director's. This was not intentional, and in fact; for my formative years as a lover of films, I was totally unaware. The films that resonated with me were helmed by the person who'd written the material. Even when watching studio fare like 'You've Got Mail' - I would prefer those films to those which had hired in a director. And this was completely unconscious on my part. But in understanding myself and my interest in films and directing, it's quite important.

I love the idea of being a reader of books. But unfortunately, I find it very difficult - as only a handful of writers can hold my interest. If I consider buying a book, I have to read the first few pages and figure out whether the writer resonates with me. I think a lot of people do this, but for me, it is almost a chronic thing-- I generally don't read, as I am always disinterested. I'm interested in reading, but disinterested in the writers. But when I do come across a voice I can identify with, it's golden. Woody Allen, Saul Bellow, Roald Dahl, John O'Farrell, Joseph Heller, Nora Ephron, those are a few names and to be honest, there aren't many more. What their reputations or talents are isn't as important as; do I enjoy reading them? John O'Farrell, for example, is a writer of a few little novels that come and go without much ado, but for some reason - his work always tickles my funny bone. I find his voice hilarious. The same goes for Woody Allen. I've recently been intrigued by David Foster Wallace, and I am hopeful hopeful hopeful that he is going to be one of those rare writers who fascinates and inspires me. I have loved some of his articles and am about to order some books. I am hopeful.

I usually keep my written work hostage. As in, I don't want other directors use it. Is it because I think I have written untouchable masterpieces? Definitely not. The problem for me is that it's very hard to find directors who truly grasp what a writer is doing, and what they are saying. I write a lot of comedy; and comedy is one of the most delicate things in the world because when it's handled incorrectly, nobody laughs. Even worse, people think you're an idiot. It really is delicate. But it's the one thing I am certain I understand. I have had the experience very often on set where an actor feels they are not doing enough, or not being funny enough, or that they're doing too much, or that they're being too slow, or too fast, or too emotive ---- and the problem is that when doing anything other than comedy, their instincts would probably be right. But when you are servicing a joke, or a comedic set-up, or a delicately humorous moment, it's very rare that you find people who are completely in sync with the director. This is why comedies are rarely funny-- because not only do the actors struggle to grasp it, but so do the directors. That is essentially why I am drawn to direct. That's why Charlie Chaplin, Billy Wilder and Woody Allen all moved into directing-- because their work was being wrecked film after film. A typical director might think the punchline is what's funny; but a good director knows something more--- he knows what's funny is the hat sitting on the mantelpiece, or the line in the next scene about a giraffe, or the way Jack Lemmon holds his tennis racket.

My point is that, if I am not there to protect the material, it gets lost. There are director's who are more talented than me, in fact; I think I am, at best, an average director of film. My scope is small. When it comes to making a scene look appealing or exciting, I am not particularly skilled. But when it comes to what I've written, I think I can handle the material and the actor's performances better than anyone else could. Richard Curtis and Kevin Smith would probably say the same (about themselves, not about me.)

This is essentially why directors collaborate with the same actors for years and years (Allen/Keaton, Wilder/Lemmon), or why comedy actors produce their own work (Stiller, Sandler.) They need to protect the material, to know that they can control it because there is always a big risk of it being handled by people that don't understand it. Taken to extremes, it's why directors act in their own films, because nobody else can quite get that subtlety. Nobody else could do Chaplin like Chaplin. Nobody else can do Woody Allen like Woody Allen (we've seen many try.)

What all this means is that, as a writer/director, I have very few opportunities. Essentially, I need to raise financing to do my own work, because I am unwilling and unable to pass on my writing or to direct other people's - and when it comes time to sit down and rest, I can't even find a book I like. Not only that but, as a director, I am still looking for my Jack Lemmon, for my Diane Keaton; because it is those collaborations which essentially define a good writer/director; when they find actors who not only give voice to what is on the page but somehow become it.

Just so you know, I'm not moaning. All these reasons are exactly why I am a writer and why I am a director.

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Nora Ephron - What Are You Doing To Me?

I am currently reading the Nora Ephron book 'Heartburn.' It's a book about a woman who is seven months pregnant who finds out her husband is cheating on her. And it's about cooking. And women stuff. And the cover looks like this --

Now, this is a problem because I am a guy.

And if I read a book like that on the train, people will give me weird looks.

'Why Are You Reading Nora Ephron books?' you might ask. And all I can say is that, Nora Ephron has been pulling this kind of shit on me all my life. Do I want to be watching Meg Ryan prancing around all the time? No. But do I? Yes. 'Sleepless In Seattle,' 'You've Got Mail', 'Hanging Up' - I loved them all.

You see - I secretly think Nora Ephron is one of the best writers alive. There are not many others who could make me relate to a story about a bunch of quarrelling sisters ('Hanging Up') - and whilst I do love a good ole' rom-com, I would rarely call them my favorite films - but I think 'You've Got Mail' is genius. If it was made in the 1950's and had Billy Wilder's name as Director, it probably would have won some oscars.

The book I am reading, 'Heartburn,' was turned into a movie, which I've not yet seen. But the book is great - hilarious, compelling, and true - in a way few books are. I actually really struggle with reading, I find it hard to find voices that resonate with me. I can name about four -- Woody Allen (short stories), Joseph Heller, Roald Dahl, John O'Farrell, some of Nick Hornby, and half of Jack Kerouac's 'On The Road' - that is a bit more than four but that number was only a guess prior to this sentence. Oh, and Anne Frank. There's more truth in her book than anything else I've ever read.

So I have to face the facts - I need to stand up proudly and say. I LOVE NORA EPHRON.

But right now I'm going to go and watch the 'Die Hard' trilogy and some war films....

PS: Today is the last day you can vote for me in the 2010 Weblog Awards, or the Bloggies, as they're also known. I am one of the five nominees in the 'Best Entertainment Blog' category. I would really appreciate it if you voted for me. You can do that here.

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One Night At The Movies Long Ago

Today, on December 3rd, many of my favourite bloggers will be writing on the same topic as me, 'One Night At The Movies Long Ago.' My vision is that we all share a memory from a memorable time we had at the movies, from some time in our past. Below is my story - and tomorrow, I will share links to all the others, so be sure to pop back.

Note For Americans: In the UK we don't say 'sneakers' we say 'trainers'.

One Night At The Movies Long Ago

It was my birthday, and I was meant to go for a meal with the family. But The Apartment was screening in London, and my family didn't want to go see The Apartment in London. Maybe they did, but I didn't. I mean, I didn't want to go with them. It's not that I didn't love them it's just that I didn't want to go and see The Apartment with them so I rearranged my birthday for another night. I didn't rearrange my whole birthday, just the part where the family sits in a restaurant and eats together. To change my whole birthday would take a lot of forms and I'd probably need a lawyer. At the very least, I'd need a brand new birth certificate, which is much harder to find as you get older.

So I moved my family back a day, or forward a day, I can't remember which -- and I decided for my birthday to go and see The Apartment. I didn't want to go alone, I wanted to go with Henrietta. Just because her name was beautiful and she was too. For that reason, I knew she wouldn't come. But I asked her, anyway, because there's nothing better than being rejected on your birthday. I decided to play it cool and ask in a really smooth way, not in the way I normally would - you know, in which I get all weird about my love for black and white movies, thinking girls will think I'm a nerd with no life. So I said to her, "I don't want you to think I'm a nerd with no life or anything, and I don't want you to think I like you, or anything, but I'm wondering, do you want to come and see an old movie with me tonight? Um, you don't have to, but you can do, if-- like, I don't know. Um, so- yeah. An old movie. Me and you. On my birthday."

She looked at me like I was a nerd with no life. I expected a verbal response but she just held the look.
"Do you think I'm a nerd with no life?" I asked her. She said, "You want to go and see an old movie on your birthday?"
And I said "Yes."
And she said, "okay."
And I said "Okay, you think I'm a nerd?"
And she said "I think you're a nerd and I will come and see the movie."
And I said "That's great, but can we stop putting 'And I said' at the beginning because it's getting repetitive now?"
And she said, "It's not us that's doing that, it's a blogger a few years from now."
And I said, "Let's go see the movie."

So we went to see the movie. But not straight away, because I asked her three days before the screening was due to start and I doubt they'd have just played it when we got there.

I should explain to you that 'The Apartment' is my second favourite film. In fact, it's possibly my first, depending on my mood. In this mood, it's my second favourite, in my other mood, it's my favourite. That's the best I can explain it. The crazy thing is that I'd never seen it on the big screen before. I was desperate to! It's my second favourite, sometimes first favourite film-- so I had to see it on the big screen.

It suddenly dawned on me that life was awesome. I was about to have a birthday, and I was about the see The Apartment on the big screen and this beautiful, wonderful girl, Henrietta, was coming with me, despite her thinking I was a nerd with no life.

The day finally arrived and with a burst of energy I jumped out of bed. It was still about twelve hours until the screening so immediately after the burst of energy and jump out of bed I simply made a cup of tea and switched on the TV. Eventually, the evening came-- my second favourite film, FINALLY, on the big screen - with a girl who I liked more than I had liked anyone in weeks. Perfection.

It was time to meet - I don't remember what time it was but I remember Henrietta getting things slightly wrong and being slightly late. Anyways, we jumped on a train a bit like how I jumped out of bed earlier except we didn't make a cup of tea and switch on the TV after. We were on our way to the cinema to see THE APARTMENT on the BIG SCREEN. What could be better than that?

I was feeling pretty confident by that point. I remember thinking, "Hey, maybe beautiful girls do like old movies."
And she said, "Are you talking to me?"
I decided to play it cool, to be like one of those super confident guys who knows exactly what to say to women.
I said, "Um, so like - do---do you think I'm a bit of a nerd with no life for going to see an old film on my birthday?"
She said, "I think you're a nerd for going to see an old movie but it make no difference if you go on your birthday."
I thought she was being playful and enjoying my self-deprecating, self-hating nature.

So we got to London. I suddenly realised that time was flying by. I looked at my watch, obviously. I mean, how else would I have realised time was flying by. The film was due to start in fifteen minutes time and it was at least a ten minute walk, eleven with the shoes she was wearing. But I had comfy trainers so I set us the task of making it in nine.

"I just want to buy some shoes," she said.
"What?" I said.
"White things. Leather. Laces."
"I want to go see the film." I responded.
"But I want to get some trainers quickly, there's a Fred Perry shop over there."
"But I want to see the film."
"I'll be quick." She said.

I tried my best to say No, we MUST see this film, but she was really pretty and there was no way she'd listen to anything I had to say. So I said.. actually, I didn't say anything, I just had this sunken look. So she went to buy her shoes and I went to sulk next a guy who was playing Cat Stevens songs on his guitar. Well, I assume it was his guitar. It's not the sort of thing you bring up in the middle of 'Sad Lisa.'

Henrietta reappeared like seven minutes later and I was livid. Well, not really livid, because I was young and she was pretty, so I couldn't really show my disdain. So instead, she said, "you okay?" and I just nodded and felt sunken.

So we ran to the cinema. Well that was the plan but she wasn't wearing her new trainers because she didn't want to get them dirty, so I kind of walked with reasonably fast-pacing whilst she scuttled along in her shoes that added an extra two minutes to our journey.

Finally, WE ARRIVED! But the film had started twelve minutes ago. Henrietta said something about how the trailers would be showing now. I said there wouldn't be trailers because it's an old film and she said maybe we should go see something else. I stood there feeling sunken whilst she stood there feeling happy that she'd bought new shoes. We walked up to the box office just to check if the film had, luckily, not started.

We did, luckily, get to the box office when there was no line or anything. But then, unluckily, we were informed that yes, the film had started. Fourteen minutes of my second favourite movie had gone by.

"Let's go in." said Henrietta. I looked at her, and she looked a little different. Not quite as beautiful as she did before.

We went back to Covent Garden. We drank some tea. We chatted, we laughed, the night was not all lost. But I couldn't help but feel a little sunken. It was my birthday, and I never got to see The Apartment.


Come back tomorrow to find many more 'One Night At The Movies Long Ago' stories from some of the best writers on the internet. If you are a blogger and want to write on this same theme, please email me your blog address and details -- and I'll feature your story tomorrow.

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I wish there were more films like The Apartment

There is nothing more wonderful than watching The Apartment. I watched this with someone recently and was completely jealous that she got to see it for the first time. I want that experience again. I wonder if there'll ever be another film as perfect as this, it's hard to imagine.

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But is the film any good?

All Directors make bad films. Of course, they don't plan to do it. If you'd asked Kevin Smith at the time, he'd have told you that 'Jersey Girl' was going to be his best ever film. In fact, he's on record as saying that very thing. It's one of the sad facts of life that our favorite Directors will, from time to time, make films like '1941' and 'Elizabethtown'. It's just the way it goes.

The same, of course, is true for upcoming filmmakers. "This is going to be my best one yet!" you tell everybody. And it'd better be, because you've only got about one film left before everyone says "actually, yeah, you really need to get a real job." Even the greatest young film directors are going to go through the same patterns as Kevin Smith, Quentin Tarantino, etc-- there are going to be duds. This can be quite a painful thing, especially when you haven't yet made the masterpiece you're destined to make.

Take comfort in the fact that, whoever your favorite Director is, they've made bad films, apart from Billy Wilder.

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For The Record..

Moving on from my non film related and overly wordy entry yesterday - I thought I'd get back on topic and state a few things, just for the record.

My all time top five films are:

1. Cinema Paradiso
2. The Apartment
3. A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints
4. Jaws
5. Beautiful Girls

My most watched films of all time are:

1. You've Got Mail
2. Seven
3. Jaws
4. Shawshank Redemption (which is, I think, the greatest film of all time. So why is it not in my top 5?)
5. Manhattan Murder Mystery

For me, the greatest Writer/Director's are:

1. Billy Wilder
2. Charlie Chaplin
3. Woody Allen
4. Cameron Crowe
5. Guiseppe Tornatore

My Top 5 actors are:

1. Tom Hanks
2. Jack Lemmon
3. Jimmy Stewart
4. Robert Downey Jr
5. Jack Nicholson

My top five places to set a movie are:

1-5: New York


I'd love you to answer these too on your blogs and post them back to me :)

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Natural & Realistic Dialogue

What is good dialogue? Is it natural dialogue? I've heard myself speak, if that was put in a movie - no-one would watch. So what is good dialogue?.

Good dialogue to me is like dancing. Likewise, bad dialogue can be as embarassing as seeing your parents dance. There's a rhythm to good dialogue. In a film like 'Manhattan Murder Mystery', where Woody Allen was really on-form, the one-liners just keep coming, and they fit so perfectly into the mouths of the characters that you just can't help but be swept away by it.

I've heard a few people say that Aaron Sorkin writes realistic dialogue. Give me a break!. Here's a little piece of Sorkin genius:

Sam Seaborn: So, listen, there's a fire in Yellowstone Park.
Josh Lyman: Well, put it out.
Sam Seaborn: Technically, I'm not a professional firefighter, though there was a time I wanted to be.
Josh Lyman: When?
Sam Seaborn: When I was four.
Josh Lyman: When I was four, I wanted to be a ballerina.
Sam Seaborn: Yeah?
Josh Lyman: I don't like to talk about it.
Sam Seaborn: Ballerina?
Josh Lyman: I'd kinda like that not to get around.
Sam Seaborn: Yeah. No chance of that.

President Bartlet: [Later, that same day] Josh?
Josh Lyman: Yes, sir?
President Bartlet: A ballerina?
Josh Lyman: Yeah, I didn't... I didn't know what it was at the time. I liked the word.
President Bartlet: We'll go with that for now.

Now, I LOVE this sequence - but is it natural? is it realistic? Of course not! But it's still great dialogue. So, whilst many people talk about loving natural dialogue; I strongly make the case that natural dialogue is bad dialogue.

Maybe I am speaking from a comedy point of view. My favourite writers tend to be those who write comedy. Look at Diablo Cody's 'Juno'; that film was hilarious, and within it held many truths and many things I could relate too; and in that sense -- perhaps you could say it was realistic. But was the dialogue itself realistic? Honest to blog - no, it wasn't.

For my money the greatest dialogue writer of all time is Billy Wilder. When I watch his films or read his screenplays I could literally cry with joy. For anyone who likes to read, or live - I beg you to read 'The Apartment' screenplay. It is PURE magic.

Billy's screenplays were not about realism. They were about something more interesting than that. In Billy's films we could learn a lot about his characters and a lot about ourselves. His characters feel like reflections of who we are; I feel like I know them, I feel like I could be them-- this is the magical world that Billy and his writing partners would create. But it's not REALISTIC dialogue, it's not NATURAL.

By the way, here's my all time top piece of dialogue, it's from 'Double Indemnity'

Barton Keyes: Have you made up your mind?
Jackson: Mr. Keyes, I'm a Medford man - Medford, Oregon. Up in Medford, we take our time making up our minds.
Barton Keyes: Well, we're not in Medford, we're in a hurry.

The first time I saw 'Double Indemnity' was at a packed screening at the ICA in London. Everyone loved at the Medford line, it was hilarious. But as we left the screening, I heard people talking about how natural Billy's dialogue is. And I just don't get it.

If Sorkin, Allen, Cody and Wilder's writing was natural would it be interesting? I think not. To call the dialogue natural is to do them a great disservice. They do something far more entertaining, moving and important than that. They do movie dialogue, and they do it better than anyone else.

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