Reviews from a futon: Sunset Boulevard (1950)

SUNSET BOULEVARD

“All right, Mr. DeMille… I’m ready for my close up”

For some of us, we draw an image of Roger Rabbit… or perhaps Robin Williams in cold cream. For a lot of us it was a reference with no meaning, just the rambling of a cartoon rabbit.

This was a side revelation of this self directed study into cinema, putting context to dozens of dangling references in my memory. Jokes that flew over my head at the time, seemed to come together and make sense since I begun absorbing these 'cinema classics'.

Beginning with a narration,

we follow the police racing up the namesake street, to an old Hollywood mansion. A clever ‘from below’ shot of our narrator Joe Gillis… floating dead in a pool, flashbulbs and police silhouettes distorted by the water. The quick story slides along in a flashback forward. Billy Wilder often used the narrative introduction device as a means to drop us into a point of action in his films, dodging long winded expositions that tend to drag out other films of it’s era.

Joe Gillis, a down on his luck Hollywood writer is dodging repo men hot to take his car, and he’s down an agent. Last year, according to him he was writing with talent, this year, he is just trying to avoid packing in his dreams and moving home. A blown out tire forces him into a quick turn into the driveway of what seemed to be an abandoned house, into a ramshackle garage: this seems to be a fine place to stash his car until he can rake together some cash.

Making his way to the house, invited in under mistaken identity. A bizarre introduction to our star Norma Desmond, a once famous actress in the silent picture era. Now, with the advent of talking pictures, the world had moved on from Norma. Secluded in a mansion, complete with a ballroom Valentino himself had danced, a near empty pool, a butler named Max, and a deceased pet monkey in need of a casket.

Joe leverages the situation, or perhaps Norma does when he mentions being a hollywood writer. She hires him to ‘format’ her script. Her greatest film, to be directed by Cecil B Demille, her former director. Joe moves in over the garage and begins to work.

Norma begins to show signs of an infatuation with Joe, and her jealous nature forms. Soon enough, she has gifted him several new suits, a gold cigarette case and a tuxedo with tails, all at her insistence.   

The black and white through out the film is beautifully shot…

In particular, a moment in her living room where the only light is from a projector, replaying her greatest moments. She rises to her feet decrying the loss of craft… “words, weren’t needed, acting alone could carry the films”. Raising her arm as she vows to return, to not would deprive her fans, a stark image was cut. “We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!” Norma highlighted by the sharp light of a projector, with wisps of cigarette smoke in the air. Every shot is composed like a photograph, it is incredibly remarkable how well composed the cinematography is.   

At a New Year’s eve party for two in the ballroom, Norma confesses feelings for Joe, who leaves in a hurry. Briefly ditching out to a party, he makes arrangements to crash there for awhile. When he calls the house to arrange for his things, Max informs her that she has made an attempt on her life. Joe rushes back to the house and to Norma. It’s here where he seemingly commits to the life of the live-in boyfriend. Even telling old friends that he has quit even writing, no longer needing the trade. Spending his days beside the pool, and accepting Norma’s lavish lifestyle as his own.

Max, a once brilliant director, Norma’s one time husband, had taken such pity that he chose a life of servitude to her… as her butler, saying that Hollywood did it to her. Max serves to keep her sheltered from her faded star, writing her fan mail, and maintaining all appearances. He seemed the only one willing to atone for the sins of the city, the loss of his career more collateral damage.

While Norma endures a rigourous beauty regime, ensuring her appearance will be in top form when the cameras roll, Joe meets up with Betty, a Paramount ‘reader’. She encourages Joe to expand a character from an earlier script she enjoyed, seeing it as her own opportunity to break out into writing. Joe suggests Betty write it herself, but Betty is adamant he aids in the script.

Soon Joe is sneaking out to meet Betty (who is also his best friends Fiance) for writing sessions, so as to not upset Norma. Naturally, a budding romance is set in motion between Betty and Joe. Norma, goes mad upon discovery of the clandestine writing sessions, and begins harrassing Betty over the phone. Joe, upon discovering this… brings it all to an end, ultimately bringing about Norma’s break from reality, leading us back to the beginning… poor Joe Gillis, face down in the pool.

Betty seems to inhabit the youthful optimism in Hollywood, a contrast to Joe’s growing bitterness to the whole scene. Once regarded as a talented writer, he has resigned himself to packing it in, writing whatever would sell.

The actress Gloria Swanson herself was a silent film star brought out of retirement to fill the role, so even the casting was breathtaking. The publicity photos that decorated the home all were her own from her career.   

Buster Keaton makes a cameo as an old friend playing cards, while director Cecil B. DeMille plays himself when she visits the Paramount lot.

He treats her with kindness, and sadness… while he understands what hollywood’s machine has done to his young ingenue, he dodges her requests and queries to make her film. He gently pats her out the door. 

It’s a biting satire on stardom. The short life cycle of Hollywood. The temporary nature of fame, and the disposability of people.  It’s a harsh reminder of how society treats women as they age, even outside of the Hollywood system.

The picture of a former star, kept on the morphine drip of fame if only an illusion, surrounded by old press photos, used up by Hollywood, directors, and cast aside… When we meet Norma, we assume it is arrogance and madness of her own design, we soon come to see it is the machinations of Hollywood that have driven her to madness.

The world had moved on without her, but she never got the news. So, I offhand don't recall if my futon reviews included a scoring system... but, if they did, this would be a 10 out of 10 chesterfields. I absolutely adored this film, and was a jumping off point into the filmography of Billy Wilder, which I will explore in upcoming installments of this series. A further note; this film was also mentioned often as a favourite of David Lynch's, 'Mullholland Drive' being another famous Los Angeles street... he also cherry picked names from the film for Twin Peaks (his own character 'Gordon Cole', directly lifted from 'Sunset Boulevard').

And, for myself... this is the namesake of my side project "Oh, Norma", with many lyrical ideas springing from this film, even the soundtrack itself influenced the 'over the top' string arrangements that went into the songs.

Songwriting workshop - week two

If you have yet to read over my initial essay, it is posted in the blogs here on the site. That comprised some of workshop two, so I suggest reading that as well.

What comprises a song?

In form, a song in it’s most basic of forms, is a verse and a chorus.

(Yes, it can have a bridge, an intro, outro, instrumental solo, a breakdown… but it doesn’t have to).

In my view, the verse is the exposition. The chorus is the punchline, the mission statement, the tagline on the poster. Often I want the verses to fall into the choruses, perhaps even enriching them as they go.

There are three elements in play.

Melody/Vocal line.

Chords.

Lyrics.

Any of these can be a starting point. OR, any of these can lead you from the idea into form. A song can start with a spark on any of the elements. A melody can inspire a song…

Imagine the three of these as three elements that can push and pull each other around. A change on one will affect the other. External ideas and elements can affect all of these as well.

If we consider these as three points of a triangle… move one, it is still a triangle… however, it has affected our angles at the other two points, and has changed the overall shape. If I have a four note melody, and lyrics that are machine gun paced lyrics… something has to give. If I write about a rain storm and a broken heart, then perhaps a minor key would be best to approach this, which in turn can then change our melodies.

A word on music. If you don’t play an instrument, can you write songs? Sure. Will it be infinitely easier if you do? Absolutely. As well, for the most part we aren’t going to delve into music theory and the like… there are much better teachers out there for these lessons. If you want to write songs, but don’t know what to start with: Piano is a fantastic place.

Learn your basic standard three finger chord shape, and lay on the white keys. You’re playing in C. A piano, is very visual, and unlike guitar which requires a certain amount of technique to yield a tone, a piano is pretty forgiving. Find C, F, and G… Am and Dm if you are feeling sad, and away you go. A piano, is a nice place to sit and see where your hands might land. What sounds nice?

Routines:

Some of us require a set time and space to work. Others, with practice can write anywhere. Stephen King, has a regimented writing daily schedule… and, it works for him.

Personally, my approach is that I feel that writing is a constant process. I am always listening, and collecting. There often reaches a point when the tank is full… and I have to write. Or, I have an idea that I have to chase before I lose.

When that moment hits with an idea, that is the source. That is the purest it will appear. We have a mad dash to catalog this thing… try to notate in anyway we can as much as possible so that when we return to it later, we can rekindle that flame. The idea may not be clear to us at first… but as we work it, usually a good idea attracts more. The song can grow, and hopefully even suprise us.

For some of us, the routine makes this easier. Having a fixed time to sit and work. For others, we ride the wave. For me, I try to maintain regimes around practice for piano, running scales and the like. It is about maintaining my skills, so that when a song comes, I can handle it. Running major piano scales, I can also play chords over the scales and listen for something interesting… this on it’s own can lead to a song.

A space to close the door…

albeit physically, or mentally. Our first draft, we are describing a wisp of smoke, a dream. This is not the time to invite the neighbours in… keep the door closed. Just you and the idea. Sing off key loudly without fear of judgement. Guess at chords, make bad changes, sing cringe lyrics.

Keep the opinions of others outside the door. We have been given this gift of a song, it is our place to serve it and respect it. People are going to have their ideas, let them write their own songs. This one is yours.

You can have someone in mind when you write… perhaps your ideal fan, this could be a real or imagined person. Write for you, or for them. Don’t write for everyone… you end up watering down your ideas to increase the appeal, and you end up with a compromised song…

The idea, should ideally excite you. Your inspiration may be napping on the couch, having been out all night, and complaining of a tummy ache. The idea needs to be exciting enough that your inspiration is up making coffee, ready to work. This is also where the practice we have cast comes to play… we need to have our tools sharp enough to perform the deed.

Every bad song we have written will help our skills.

At the end of the song, we may not even like it. This is okay. This is practice.

Taking words from thin air, and stapling them to a melody while floating them on chords is a slight of hand that requires work. If we view this as a craft or a skill set to develop, even bad songs are bringing us closer to our vision.

We hope that our idea serves as a magnet to draw other things in… hopefully as we push down the page, it is strong enough to attract other ideas to join in.

For me,

I often apply a ‘bonfire’ mentality.

As yard work is completed, shrubs tamed and cut away, you throw it into the burn pile… summer carries along, and the pile grows. The torn down decking. If we keep piling it up, sooner or later it has to be burnt. Sometimes… the pile is so large, we absolutely have to set it ablaze… or, in a strange act of spontaneous combustion, there’s smoke billowing. Sooner or later, if we don’t make a fire, birds and creatures will make it their home.

I collect little lyrical ideas. I collect riffs and melodies. I carry all these odds and ends around in my proverbial pocket… sooner or later, they all reach critical mass and a song forces its way up to the surface.

I have a lot of material as it is… so, this affords the benefit of waiting on the muse to drop a match on the burnpile. For me, this gathering period can last weeks, or months even. I want to allow the ideas to float along the surface, until it collects enough mass to make a nice fire.

The Editing stage will follow.

Once we have most of our structure in place, we can read from the page and see how the words stand alone. Have we unintentionally shifted perspectives or tenses? (I have been guilty of switching from “you” to “Her” interchangably in songs… eventually, this has to be decided upon for clarity). This is the point to agonize. The degree to which we agonize, is purely subjective.

Leonard Cohen, filled notebooks of verses for ‘the Future’, grinding and polishing… slaving over piles of verse, until he found the right ones. Or, we can skip the edit altogether. (I have worked both ways, and allow the material to dictate often). Because, there is a certain quality and elusiveness when we enter the realm of stream of consciousness writing. Where the right words, and imagery seem to just appear to us.

However, when our seven minute run time seems to drag on for fifteen… we can head back in. Ask what each verse means. Does the song really need it? Are we saying the same thing, just a little different… repeating ourselves?

Are the verses in the right order? This is the time.

If we haven’t already… check the key. Guitarists, capo up and see how it feels to sing. You’ll know pretty quick.

A caveat; “Room to dream”

David Lynch would often refer to this as the space you give to your audience in a film. At the end of “The Apartment” Jack Lemmon and Shirley Maclaine sit playing cards, or the end of the “Graduate” where they run off from the wedding and sit at the back of the bus with a look to each other… this is the moment where the film ends, and what we are shown of the story ends… however, the story carries on in our heads. Lynch ended his tour de force “Twin Peaks” on an ambiguous note… a show that aired for two seasons, had a prequel film, and then returned to television 25 years later. Most creatives would have answered all the questions, tied it all up with a bow. The show “Lost” was completely enthralling when it was laying mystey at our feet… it went on for many seasons being critically acclaimed… then came the ending. The final ten minutes of the show answered everything so unsatisfyingly it managed to undo the grace it had accumulated… it would have been better off most likely being unfinished, the ending only existing as dreams.

Unless you are writing “The Gambler” or “The Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald” which are like short stories, there are spaces to leave “room to dream”… this invites the listener in, and allows them to dream with us, their own minds fill in the blanks, and become closer to the song.

This can also compliment Hemingway’s “iceberg theory”, where the author knows more than they put to page. But the knowledge they have, will be shown via what lands on the page.

The songwriting game is chalk full of charlatans, they are going to try to sell you stardom. Often, we are being sold the idea that the absolute metric for success is millions of streams, plays on spotify. If this is your metric for success… you are probably not going to have a very satisfying time…There is satisfaction in the work. My overall sense is that a song that hits a large number of streams, is appealing to our egos… and that’s a dangerous game.

We stop chasing the unique aspects of our work, and serving the song… we try to serve the aquisition of likes and shares. We stop writing personally, we begin to write what we think others want to hear… in which case, we could instead be copywriting advertising briefs.

What and where to draw from.

Most likely, many of us have had relationships that have not gone well. Those who haven’t, have probably seen a relationship that did not go well. And, anyone remaining, would have seen television programs with characters in relationships that did not go well. The unrequited love song has fuelled ballads and sad country songs for decades.

Go for it. If Donna, your first kiss broke your heart, start there. Recall details that you remember that make it seem genuine. IF you need to, take the licence to blow it out of proportion. (Again, if there is no Don, Donna equivalent in your life, television has a plethora of relationships to draw upon). Maybe, change the ending. Maybe Donna hears that you think she is a shoe, and you are hopping a train that evening. Perhaps you need to say that you were wrong, but it’s too late for that now. Songwriting can be an incredibly cost-effective form of therapy. You may find that a few lines you started about Donna, has begun to shape into a new storyline, roll with it. If you need to, you can come edit later. Allow these situations to become characters that can say what you are afraid to say if you need.

Or, allow these situations to be props for our ideas. Say, you are stuck on a Christmas song… you have all the visuals in place. The snow, the cold, the short days at hand… but there’s nothing happening in it. Perhaps a line about Donna can give context to the lonely stockings hung with care. Maybe she’s late coming home from work, or perhaps her coming home is just a wish.

Songwriting Workshop - week one

SONGWRITING WORKSHOP - week one.

I was approached by the KACL Community Arts Hub to hold a songwriting workshop and concert.

Here’s my notes from week one…

This week, I want to talk a little bit conceptually about songwriting.

Next week… I will get more into the mechanics of the process. So, this week, talk on some of the esoteric aspects of this… and next week the “teric”? aspects.

Where did all this begin?

I have always been a big reader. I was an early reader and always loved reading books. In school, I distinctly remember poetry having a lasting effect on me… poems like “The Highwayman”, and the rhythmic interplay of the lines. “The Cremation of Sam McGee” how that opening verse just rolls. Later on, Edgar Allan Poe was another favourite. Eventually TS Eliot came across my eyes in junior high school… “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufock” with it’s wild imagery… ‘like a patient etherized on a table…’ So, I had an inherent predisposition to words.

I was around 12 years old, and I decided to pick up guitar. Songwriting didn’t really emerge until a few years later for me… and I remember the moment where I made the choice to more seriously pursue it vividly.

It was over a lunch break in the high school cafeteria… Joel was the resident guitar hero of the school. He had long hair, a fender amp wrapped in faux snakeskin, a pack of Player’s Light in his front pocket, and played a left handed Stratocaster in his band “Lois Lane’s Death Machine”. Way cooler than I could imagine. We were at a small table, and I was desperately running scales… building speed when Joel mused out loud in a dejected manner… “You know, it doesn’t matter how good either of us are… no matter how fast we get, there’s gonna be some kid from Red Lake or somewhere that shows up and blows us out of the water…” For Joel, it seemed an admission of defeat.

I walked away from the table, and left with an epiphany…

I agreed with Joel. Speed is a quantifiable thing. But… songs aren’t.

I decided to shift from worrying about scales and speed, and put more efforts into writing songs, because that was something that no one could ever take from me.

Prior to that, I had flirted with songwriting… from that point, it was probably two years and my band was in a small Winnipeg studio recording an album of songs I had written.

My one song I vividly recall prior to that, is perhaps a microcosm of everything that followed… there was a blonde haired German exchange student, a beautiful cheerleader who was clearly out of my league. I wrote a love song professing my feelings, and found the courage to phone her and sing it. In my mind, I was Ritchie Valens in the phone booth, singing “Oh, Donna” in the rain… tears running down Donna’s face. Surely, surely, Nina would be reacting in this exact fashion…

In reality, she put the phone down as soon as I started singing…

now, had it worked, I might never had needed to write another song, however, I suppose that might be why I like to deal in sad songs.

I think it’s helpful if I share what I believe a song even is…

as with anything I say over the course of these workshops, take what works, leave what doesn’t.

Conceptually;

I tend to view songwriting as an incredibly short form of storytelling… however, a song does not even need to be a story. It can be an idea, a scene, or a musing. I firmly believe when compared to other forms of storytelling, it is the most flexible in form. Sometimes, it’s a fragmented storytelling… like someone flipping thru channels on a television set.

If, we were discussing writing a novel, we would be diving deep into the hero’s journey, and discussing the importance of three act storytelling. A song doesn’t have to follow this. We aren’t bound to have a beginning, middle and an end.

Poetry, the rhyme scheme and meters are strict, there is no vocalization in the delivery of the lines to cheat the meter. Sonnet rhyme structure, written in pristine iambic pentameter is not forgiving. In song, I can stretch one syllable to as many as I need. Rhyme, is a suggestion. (On that, I will never lose a word that carries meaning for sake of a rhyme… )

Film making, I might discuss the merits of a character moving from right to left, and the implications of a dutch angle. I would express the need to establish a setting with a master exterior shot. In song, I can sing about the lighting in a scene… or not acknowledge or not.

I can steal from any of these places. Films, tv shows, books… any of these can help spark ideas.

I feel that in song, language is at it’s most malleable.

I can ask esoteric questions of the universe, convey an unrequited tale or go the other route to full blown historical events and “Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald” is on the menu. We are often writing the songs that we want to hear. Sharing details that we find interesting. Telling the stories we want to share, or hear ourselves.

Overall. The only steadfast rule…

If you want to write songs, you have to commit to doing it. Write it down. Record it. Remember it. Spend time working on it. Adding to it.

Ideas without actions, are shower thoughts. A chuckle as we knock over the shampoo bottle.

We have to open our eyes and ears, we have to turn on our antennas and be willing to receive what is available… not only that, but we have to be willing to do something with that idea. That is an important facet of all of this. You have to look for ideas. Sometimes, they will fall in your lap, more often you have to do the work.

When we find that thing that sparks an idea, hold it close… and try to capture as much as you can. Getting back to that idea later is harder than it seems.

If we want words to come out of our mouths, we need to put words into our heads. Read. Even if it is Stephen King novels, we are processing words through our heads. It is establishing a connection between words and visualization.

This is where details are important. And, as we read… we pause on passages that give us distinct visuals. Look at the language and try to understand why it is working. Learn from it.

You also need input to keep things flowing. Want to write more music? Listen to more music.

Music that might inspire you to greatness… perhaps even bad music… music that makes you declare with a great authority… “even I could do better than that!”

Practice lines. You can throw them away immediately. Look around a room for a detail. A start of a song. Try one in your head. If you like it, try to maybe say another line to follow it. Pull out your phone and start notating the lines. See how many you can get. Don’t get too precious if you are getting somewhere. It is easy to derail an idea and lose the details if you are burning out on a rhyme. Set the rhyme aside or on fire. Don’t lose meaning for rhyme.

If It doesn’t go anywhere, put it aside. Come back to it later and see if you can clean it up. Can you add to it? Did you leave enough to get back to the idea? If all you got was a verse, I am often apt to just double space and keep adding into the same note… it’s easier to review all of the fits and starts on one page, than to jump from page to page.

This is an active participant activity. Our hope in turning lines around our head is we find a spark, that idea that makes our inspiration wake up off the couch. We flip the script on our muse, and get them to work. So, even in this room… “Industrial ceilings make me uneasy”. Look out the window… there’s the Century Cinema marquee, an artifact that has remained rather unchanged in many years. What does it invoke?

Where do songs come from?

Well. They are everywhere. Other songs, films, books, our lives, our friends lives… the way your cat lays in the sun. Like particles that exist in all states until the point of observance… anything can be an idea for a song. Anything can provide that spark. (That ain’t my cat… that’s a song).

But… how? What to write about?

What interests you. What catches your ears, or eyes.

What sets songs apart from each other is the distinct voice of the writer… the unique perspectives and details that make the songs feel real. All of us can enter a room, and everyone of us will pick up a different detail…

Picture a table. Four legs and a top. Everyone of us will see a different table. Mine is probably a mess of piles, an empty water cup, coffee stains and my missing guitar tuner.

The craft of songwriting, is often developing our voice. Folding our own perspectives into song. Details are what define us. Describe your table.

Even if we use the idea of a character or a story as a vehicle to tell a story, there is still room for the personal touches… I’ve never been in a boxing match… but I have lost. We can utilize a character, an unreliable narrator to tell a story. The common adage is to write what you know… but, maybe we could express a sense of loss better from perspective of a boxer?

We can use the cover of plausible deniability in a song… the shelter of storytelling. We can say truths too hard to bear coming from us… but, perhaps via a character in a song, a once removed effigy we can speak without fear of reprisal. Inversely, writing from the perspective of a flawed character, an unreliable narrator is a wonderful perspective to write from…

A well crafted song draws us in, and evokes images, or feelings.

When we start writing. We are often crafting pale imitations or perhaps even outright plagarative acts against our favourite songs. This is going to happen. We are going to imitate. We try on suits that are perhaps a little too big, just to see how they feel. We might put on our father’s workboots, knowing we wont fill them, rather to see what it’s like to walk around in them. Eventually, when we have tried on enough, those influences become inspirations that informed our voice. The Bowie blends with the George Jones and we are left with our own sounds.

Deconstruct our favourite songs… what draws us to these particular songs?

Are they witty tales of unrequited love, perhaps like Loudon Wainwright? Are they stream of consciousness Dylan rambles? Are they the anxiety ridden dreams of the future like Leonard Cohen shared? Maybe all of the above?

We will imitate, until we emulate… when we absorb these influences, they become part of the fabric of our coats. At first they will be the pins in the sleeve, awaiting the thread to secure them.

If you regard every song as a success, anything that occurs after that is a gift… it is a bonus. Is it nice to have people react to something you’ve written…? Yes. It’s wonderful for our egos.

I want to write songs, I enjoy it. For me, the goal is to write better than I have before. In some way, shape or form I want to improve. I may be inspired by others at times, but they are not competition. They may give me a mark to aim higher at… but, at the end of the day, I want to write better. That is where the satisfaction is derived. That is the goal.

Not every song is going to hit that mark. Most songs, I will take to a rough demo form. Drums, keys, bass, vocals… harmonies. As, I enjoy the production side of things… however, if I decide that it isn’t quite up to par, I will follow it through to demo, and just put on the shelf. Any song written, is exercising that skill… so, if that song itself wasn’t a step forward for me, the act of writing that song is working towards that step forward.

Homework:

So, we have come this far… and you’re thinking “I am no closer to a song…”.

OK. Let’s get you there.

As mentioned, themes can often influence the song elements… so, if you are so inclined. The weather is getting colder. The days are shorter. Snow is falling, and we have to shovel it… your theme to play with is a Christmas song.

Again, a song is a moveable art form. Like a golf ball in our pocket.

So, when you step outside into the wind, or the snow, take off your boot and step into a patch of water on the floor… gather. Observe. Take notes. Christmas songs can be happy or sad, they can be nostalgic, they can be observances of peace on earth… or perhaps how sick you are of family… No rules.

Again. Any room you go into. There’s ideas there. Someone might say something that sparks it. But, you have to be willing to observe, and you have to be willing to act.