Sunset Boulevard: A New Path to a Familiar Genre Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay In Billy Wilder's 1950 classic Sunset Boulevard, an unwitting male protagonist, played by William Holden, falls into the clutches of (and is ultimately killed by) a dangerous and scheming former actress played by the great Gloria Swanson. While this may seem like the basis for a rather banal film noir, a series of profound alterations to the genre's well-worn conventions not only save the film from mediocrity, but elevate it to the ranks of the most famous. enduring and celebrated cinematic classics. Director/writer Billy Wilder, along with fellow writers Charles Brackett and DM Marshman Jr., add a bold meta-element to the film by casting a critical eye on a layer of American society that is unusual for film noir to examine: the film industry. And through the use of clever casting, along with a protagonist who defies gender stereotypes, they create a powerful indictment of Hollywood's shaky and ruthlessly superficial foundations. The main purpose of film noir has always been to shed light into the dark recesses of urban life in order to expose some form of moral corruption. Sunset Boulevard is no exception to this rule, but while noir usually looks at black markets, police forces, gambling rings, or organized crime syndicates to expose such corruption, Wilder chose instead to look at corruption in its own backyard: the film industry. . Gloria Swanson plays an exiled actress named Norma Desmond. Norma has disappeared from the spotlight partly due to the paradigm shift from silent to talkies, but at the same time she is a victim of Hollywood's constant need for fresh young starlets to occupy the screen. He copes with his exile by clinging to the lavish lifestyle built on his dormant career and socializing only with those willing to sustain the illusion of his lingering high status. Norma says she is planning "a return to the millions of people who never forgave her for leaving the screen." Such claims are never countered by the enablers he surrounds himself with, and the dilapidated mansion he lives in contradicts the idea that his vacation from the spotlight is only temporary. Filmmakers whose art revolves around the suspension of disbelief and the inflation of truth are partly responsible for this, but they are only servants of movie studios who are themselves servants of the audience's need for escape. This web of deception has a complexity that is a staple of the noir genre, but the fibers from which it is woven are fresh, unusual, and more relevant than ever today as audiences avidly devour news of celebrity culture. The studios and mansions of Hollywood may be far from the dark, seedy alleys that noir fans are accustomed to exploring, but they are no less populated by unscrupulous and deceitful characters. Since Dashiell Hammett's detective novels were legitimized by the fact that he worked for a time as a detective himself, then Sunset Boulevard is legitimized to be a product of the industry it criticizes. In genre films, casting conventions typically require the use of familiar actors as genre staples and whose names alone carry a pre-established meaning, thus helping the audience enter the narrative world. Wilder and Brackett chose to choose faces that were actually familiar and meaningful to the audience, but for different reasons: the directors played directors and theactors played actors, adding both an interesting meta-element and mirroring reality in a way atypical not just for noir, but all genre films. When Max, Norma Desmond's servile butler, turns out to be her ex-husband and director of the silent films that made her famous, the casting decision takes on a profound new meaning. Max, after all, is played by legendary silent film director and screenwriter Erich von Stroheim. For the public, particularly those of the time who were likely familiar with Stroheim's work, this revelation was doubly significant. They knew that he, like his character, had directed Gloria Swanson in her early silent films, so this revelation of his character's past and his involvement in the film in general carried extra weight, as if as an artist he had signed the contract. the fierce criticism of the film. Equally significant was the casting of legendary director Cecil B. DeMille as himself. DeMille had also directed Gloria Swanson in the real world, and in the film he demonstrates genuine sympathy for Norma Desmond's plight, showing respect and affection for her, even inviting her to sit in the director's chair when she visits his set. When DeMille notices a crowd of people gathered around her, he sees the situation for what it is: nostalgic fans admiring what they see as a Hollywood relic. Knowing that attention is the last thing Norma needs and perhaps feeling guilty for helping create her celebrity, she disperses the assembled crowd. DeMille, as a director, makes a living by creating illusions that were so harmful to Mrs. Desmond and feels protective of her as a result, but is helpless when it comes to lifting the heavy veil of illusion. In addition to the involvement of Stroheim and DeMille, numerous small parts were played by former silent actors such as Buster Keaton and H.B. Warner playing themselves. These bold and progressive casting choices validated the film's message and emphasized the versatility of the noir genre as a mirror of corruption. The main character of Sunset Boulevard, Joe Gillis, played by William Holden, seems like a classic noir protagonist at the beginning of the film. ; he is tired, witty, unlucky and is haunted by delinquent debtors. However, as the film progresses, we realize that the similarities end there. Film noir almost invariably uses protagonists, usually private investigators, with unshakable moral codes who narrowly escape being consumed by the seedy world they are investigating. Joe Gillis, however, is not a detective but a screenwriter who becomes so complicit in supporting Norma Desmond's delusions that his own morality, as well as his life, is lost by the end of the film. Shortly after meeting Nora, Joe begins accepting her money in exchange for her company and her help in editing his hopelessly poor screenplay. Realizing that she could be the way out of his financial disaster, he stays with her, fanning the fire of his illusory status even after his debts are paid. In his voiceover narration, Joe rationalizes his enablement by saying "Don't shout at a sleepwalker: he might fall and break his neck." He has grown accustomed to the good life, and Nora's disappointments keep him at ease, so much so that his devotion to her begins to resemble that shown by Max. In the final act of the film, Joe's behavior is more like that of a femme fatale than that of a protagonist. Norma's love for him is unrequited, but instead of ending the relationship, he maintains a secret nightlife by partnering with a.