WARNING: THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE. BUT TRUST ME, IT’S WORTH IT.
Louis B. Mayer was pissed. He was holding forth on a staircase after the first Hollywood premiere of Sunset Boulevard. How dare this young man, Billy Wilder, bite the hand that feeds him. Mayer felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw a shorter man with large glasses and even bigger eyes. The man said, “Mr. Mayer, I’m Mr. Wilder. Why don’t you go and fuck yourself.”
Brilliant anecdotes like this populate the pages of Conversations with Wilder by Cameron Crowe. A looser and more personal cousin of Hitchcock/Truffaut, Conversations with Wilder is filled with the acid wit and beautiful beating heart of its subject.
Cameron Crowe, an excellent writer-director himself, got a reluctant Wilder to sit for a series of interviews in 1998. The idea was for Crowe to write an article and possibly a book. Wilder agreed because it was suggested by a friend, Karen Lerner, and he was impressed by Crowe’s most recent film, Jerry Maguire.
Crowe asks Wilder about his entire filmography, albeit in a scattered fashion. His subject is much more interested in discussing his hits instead of his misses. So touchstones like Double Indemnity, Sunset Boulevard, The Apartment and Some Like it Hot get plenty of space. But he really sparks when he's discussing his mentor, Ernst Lubitsch.
Wilder and his partner at the time, Charles Brackett, wrote two films for Lubitsch including the classic, Ninotchka. It was from Lubitsch where Wilder learned to let the audience figure out that two plus two equals four. He learned the light, airy Lubitsch touch where jokes build on top of one another and come in unsuspecting ways. Wilder even had a sign hanging over the door to his office that read ‘How Would Lubitsch Do It?’
One of the funniest stories takes place after a preview for Ninotchka. Lubitsch, Wilder and Brackett were sitting in the MGM limo outside the theater and going through the comment cards, which were very positive. After reading one of the cards Lubitsch let out a huge laugh. Then he read the card which said, “Funniest picture I ever saw. So funny that I peed in my girlfriend’s hand.”
Along with the jokes, which come fast and funny from Wilder, are the stories of what could have been. Wilder was never able to get his friend Cary Grant in one of his films. Grant just didn’t want to break out of the Cary Grant persona to take on a Billy Wilder film. Now while I love Humphrey Bogart, can you imagine Cary Grant in Sabrina? The heart weeps.
Speaking of Bogart, Wilder spills a fair amount of tea about the legend. Bogart was coming over to Paramount from Warner Brothers and had a mammoth chip on his shoulder. Wilder refers to him as “that son of a bitch Bogart” and recalls how the actor did his best to make life tough for everyone on the set. Another little known fact is Bogart used to spit when he talked. I look for it now when I watch a Bogart film.
There is, of course, plenty of discussion about Marilyn Monroe. She could be difficult but the end result was worth it according to Wilder. She might not show up to the studio until four in the afternoon because she said she got lost. Or she might need sixty takes to deliver a three-word line like, “It’s me, Sugar,” but the good outweighed the bad. Wilder speaks with affection for Monroe and, while playfully adversarial, the affection was returned. Such as when Monroe wrapped up a phone conversation with Wilder’s wife Audrey with, “Oh, and tell Billy to go fuck himself.”
There is plenty of discussion about film technique but not nearly as much as in Hitchcock/Truffaut. The biggest difference between the two books is in the personal material. Crowe leads Wilder into discussing his marriage, former girlfriends, and a family history filled with tragedy. Most of Wilder’s family were killed in the Holocaust, including his mother. Wilder knew the clock was running on your life as soon as you’re born, so you better get to it. The result was a life well-lived.
The only criticism I have of the book is it seems like Crowe is straining for questions towards the end. But in an honest fashion, Crowe seems to admit as much himself. It’s not lost on Wilder either. “Let it go,” Wilder tells him. But who could blame Crowe? If you had a chance to talk to Billy Wilder about movies, you’d want it to go on forever too.
Billy Wilder, along with Anthony Mann, take up the most room in my classic film-loving heart. Conversations with Wilder is a goldmine of good jokes, film history, and creative inspiration. It sits on my coffee table so it’s always close. And while it’s usually only a few feet away, the work of its subject is, to borrow the final line from Double Indemnity, “closer than that, Walter.”