Am I the only person who found this movie dated?

First off, thanks for the civility of your response, rare these days on the IMDB and on the internet in general. When I saw a response to my post here I expected hate, vitriol and name-calling. It's pleaseant indeed to find such a Rodney Kingish (sic) reply.

I think that a lot of what makes a film (or novel or any work of art) work for a person is when and how one encounters it. Frame of mind is everything. There are composers I loved when I was young because they expressed my emotions exactly. In retrospect they were not, many of them, all that great, but they did a lot for me at a certain time in my life, and that's all that matters. This is true for a lot of what happens in life, maybe most things. I can be quite subjective and objective regarding such things. Where the hell was I going with this?--oh, Days Of Wine and Roses--I obviously caught it at the wrong time, expecting a different sort of movie, more nuanced, with more eloquent or at least sensitive writing. The film undoubtedly does have some very strong points, which passed me by but obviously affected others profoundly. I didn't pay that close attention to the acting. Jack Lemmon always seemed better in comedy, especially when he was young (he's heartbreaking in Glengarry Glen Ross much later on), while Lee Remick (sigh) I find it hard to see as anything but eye candy. My fault, for sure, but her beauty is so mesmerizing I find it difficult to focus on her acting, which is indeed often excellent. Charles Bickford, as Remick's father, seemed the most anchored in reality of the actors in the movie, and gave for me the most credible performance. (Oddly, all three major actors are from Boston, or the greater Boston area, which I only point out because that's where I'm from. I think that they interact so well in the movie is probably partly due to this,--despite the San Francisco setting--as they speak similarly in many ways. Bickford not only looks like he could be Remick's father, he sounds it, too.)

To compare Days Of Wind and Roses to The Lost Weekend is unfair, or maybe cruel, as Billy Wilder was a master of the film medium and Blake Edwards wasn't. There's a technical perfection to his film, a kind of high wire professionalism, that only a handful of directors possess. I've seen it at least a dozen times and always find something new or interesting in it that I hadn't noticed before. The last time I focused in on Philip Terry's performance as Milland's brother, Wick, and how firm and gentle he was; he was like a good male nurse, the total opposite of the bad one Milland encounters later in the film. The bad one was like the way the world really is, harsh and uncaring, while Wick was the way his brother was inside, soft and idealistic, with maybe a touch of the poet in him, too. Try finding that in a drunk ward! Speaking of which, the scene when the lights goes out in the drunk ward is one of the best timed and directed scenes in the movie. It starts out quietly, with everyone in bed. Then a few mumblings can be heard round and about, and we see a worried look on Milland's face. The voices rise in intensity and reach a klnd of diabolical crescendo when a deep baritone breaks out in a frightening, manic laugh,--then all hell breaks loose--and the cockroach man is shrieking and the ward becomes a Dantesqe hell on wheels; in come the nurses, out scurries Ray. I don't think that the entire scene takes up more than five minutes of screen time, but having watched the movie so many times I just want to applaud for the mastery of its handling. This is virtuoso moviemaking, and I can't think of anything in Days Of Wine and Roses that can equal it (admittedly, I've only seen it once in its entirety). The later film is more sympathetic toward the Lemmon and Remick characters, but Edwards doesn't have Wilder's cold, detached, almost sadistic way of pulling back and showing things as they really are, albeit in a stylized manner. He seems almost too involved with his characters' emotions, while Wilder, ever the cynic, can at times see Milland just as the local bartender does: as a pathetic lush. Cruel, I admit, but true to life none the less.

I agree that the hide and seek business with Milland and the bottle isn't one of the film's highpoints. The relationship with lovely magazine editor Jane Wyman feels a little too close to the emotional equivalant of hitting the lottery for comfort. Had she not been around to be loving and nurturing, let's face it, Milland, at his advanced state of alcoholism, would have been staggering around the Bowery in less than a month's time. Also, even the kindest and most generous of brothers have their breaking points, and no doubt Wick had his, or would soon reach it, with his brother spiraling ever downward. There are definitely things wrong with The Lost Weekend. The music didn't bother me, though, and the use of the theremin in the DT's scene, with the bat and the mouse, nudges the movie in the direction of horror. Yet this too seems inspired on Wilder's part, as he showed himself capable of "switching genres", so to speak, at the virtual drop of a hat, to make a point, set a mood, show what a character was going through. Blake Edwards was more sincere, closer to the emotions his characters were going through, which is certainly commendable and shows that he had genuine empathy for the troubles his characters were experiencing, yet there was also an artlessness to his approach to his material. Wilder could be not only cynical but clinical, which gave him a wider latitude artistically speaking, as he seemed to personally have no emotional investment in his protagonist whatsoever! Tough love maybe, before its time, it also gave Wilder the freedom to fashion the film to suit his style, thus it has a kind of musicality to it, as it rises and falls, veers from despair to optimism, drunkenness to humiliation, then almost to near comedy, it lurches into horror movie territory a couple of times, then ends on a cautiously upbeat note.

In sum, comparing these two movies is like comparing apples and oranges. The earlier film is coolish, at times calculating; it presents its main character in a sympathetic light, yet keeps its distance from him; we can see the alcoholic almost as a psychiatrist would, which is to say from a safe distance. He is terribly damaged; we're always safe. We can even get a laugh or two at his expense, such as watching his discomfort at the opera. Days Of Wine and Roses is heartfelt, involved, empathetic; at times the movie itself feels so close to its main characters that it drags the viewer down with them. Or this viewer anyway. The Wilder film has the artistic edge for me due to the excellence of its presentation. It gives pleasure, less because its protagonist seems well on the road to recovery at the end than because it was such a good roller-coaster ride of a movie, The Edwards film is like one long downward slide; it offers lots of heart and soul but is made with less artistry.

Not to change the subject too drastically, but the best and most accurate movie depiction of alcoholism I've ever seen is Clean and Sober, made in the late eighties, featuring fine performances from Michael Keaton and Kathy Baker in the leading roles, it's better written than Days Of Wine and Roses, less stylishly brilliant than The Lost Weekend, and has more of the ring of truth to it than either.

glumpy_99^

I really enjoyed reading your postings :)

I love reading thoughtful comments and good analyses about movies --

Cheers!



"I can't stand a naked light bulb, any more than..a rude remark or a vulgar action" Blanche DuBois