Hedda Hopper

  • Skyscraper Souls (1932)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, August 2022) I’m not sure you’d call it a subgenre, exactly, but I have a clear fondness for those many Manhattan-set films of the 1930s that represent what was then the height of modernity and sophistication—men and women going from their high-rise apartments to their high-rise jobs, trying to find love, advance their careers and take care of whatever plot point was thrown in their way. It’s a meticulously scrubbed-down fantasy version of 1930s life in Manhattan (notice that we seldom see the characters in the streets, and it’s not just because on-location shooting was impossible), but it’s still incredibly relatable and compelling to any twenty-first century viewer used to the urban lifestyle. The tightly wound Skyscraper Souls is nowhere near the best, funniest or more representative of such movies, but it could be one of the most exemplary ones given how free it is, in its pre-Code glory, to portray a young woman as having valid lustful desires. There’s a slightly techno-thrillerish edge to the setting—a hundred-story tall skyscraper that has everything needed for the plot—so much so that the action never steps out of the building. (One should note, for historical purposes, that the Empire State Building was the first building to feature more than a hundred floors; it opened in 1931 and remained the tallest until the 1960s.)  Much of the plot is about the tall building itself—and the man desperately fighting to keep control of it. Our male protagonist has affairs with other women (!) with his wife’s approval (!!) and causes a stock market crash that is almost presented as a good thing (!!!)  Warren Williams plays the magnificent bastard at the centre of the film, but there’s a lot of good supporting work from players such as Maureen O’Sullivan and Verree Teasdale. (Pre-gossip Hedda Hopper also shows up briefly.)  Even if the plotting gets suspicious or even repellent, I can’t help but like the paean to modernity that is Skyscraper Souls, the sense of a buzzing Manhattan or the Pre-Code slips (and scantily-clad ladies) that, as usual, evoke an entirely different history for American cinema had the Production Code never been as dominant.

  • Sunset Blvd. (1950)

    Sunset Blvd. (1950)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On VHS, November 2000) There’s a reason this film is often called a classic: Great script, archetypical characters, unconventional plotting and crunchy dialogue. Narration has quite possibly never been done this well ever since. Surprisingly enough, modern films have stolen a lot from Sunset Boulevard: The style of L.A. Confidential, lines from Cecil B. Demented, clichés from Hollywood exposés (“I’m still big; it’s the pictures that got smaller”), scenes from countless parodies… It’s a testimony to the impact of the film. Granted, Hollywood loves talking about itself, and that might explain Sunset Boulevard‘s enduring reputation, but the film itself is rather good. Not only a good story, but also a courageous film, with its willingness to go beyond the star system while simultaneously starring some personalities as themselves (Cecil B. Demille, Buster Keaton, a Warner brother, etc…) Wow.

    (On Cable TV, September 2021) For years, Sunset Boulevard was one of the few “classic Hollywood” films reviewed on this site, and this first viewing certainly reflects the perspective of someone unfamiliar with vintage filmmaking. Revisiting the same film after a few thousand black-and-white movies is certainly interesting, because I’m not seeing the same thing. I now hail the greatness of writer-director Billy Wilder, I’m aware of Gloria Swanson’s silent film stardom, I like William Holden, and I can recognize on sight such notables as Eric von Stronheim, Hedda Hopper, Fritz Lang and Buster Keaton. It’s easier to see the film noir influences (even if the film itself is a very different take on film noir), easier to catch the Hollywood in-jokes, and easier to appreciate the deceptive simplicity of the film’s structure. In other areas, however, the film simply feels as fresh as ever: The script is deliciously good, mixing a strong narration (from a dead man’s perspective, no less) with a carefully gradated escalation in the film’s intensity. It does a very fine job at balancing the outrageous, sometimes macabre drama with quips from the protagonist – and while the overall story remained in mind from a first viewing, I had forgotten some of the finer, more subtle moments, such as when the narrator allows himself to become manipulated by the older woman. Hollywood was roughly forty years old when Sunset Boulevard was released, and in the grand perspective, you can see this middle-age-crisis film being part of its evolution – reflecting on an earlier era, and making a good movie out of it. (Singin’ in the Rain would be released the following year.)  I thoroughly enjoyed my second viewing of the film – knowing more about Hollywood does make the result even more remarkable.