Sunset Boulevard 1950

The cinematic canvas unfurls with a sweeping aerial shot of Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles, California, where sirens pierce the evening air as police cars converge on the scene of a gruesome discovery: the lifeless body of Joe Gillis (Holden) floating listlessly in the pool of a grandiose mansion. As the authorities close in, Joe’s voiceover narrates the events leading up to his untimely demise, unfolding like a cinematic puzzle.

Six months prior, Joe’s creative endeavors had hit rock bottom; struggling to find work as a screenwriter, his filmography consisted of a few lackluster efforts that failed to leave a lasting impression. On the brink of financial ruin, with repossession looming and no prospects in sight except a lowly newspaper job in Ohio, Joe attempted to peddle his latest script to Paramount Pictures producer Sheldrake (Clark), only to be rebuffed after a scathing critique from script reader Betty Schaefer (Olson). Desperate for a lifeline, Joe turned to friends for financial assistance, but even they couldn’t provide the necessary support. As he fled the repo men in his car, one tire blew out on the deserted stretch of Sunset Boulevard, leading him to abandon his vehicle in the garage and explore the eerie, decaying mansion that seemed to materialize from the shadows.

It was here that Joe stumbled upon a mysterious figure inside, mistakenly mistaken for the undertaker to a deceased pet chimpanzee. The enigmatic butler, Max Von Mayerling (Von Stroheim), ushered him into the opulent abode, where he finally laid eyes on its reclusive owner: Norma Desmond (Swanson), a faded silent-film star clinging to the fleeting glories of her bygone era. When she discovered his profession as a writer, she invited Joe in and solicited his opinion on an enormous script for a film about Salome, hoping it would revive her waning acting career. Though Joe found the script woefully inadequate, he flattered Norma into hiring him as an editor, sealing his fate in this labyrinthine tale of Hollywood hubris and tragic consequence.

As the days unfold, Joe finds himself ensconced in Norma’s guest room, a temporary reprieve from his own uncertain future. The next morning, he’s taken aback by the sight of his belongings having been relocated to the grand mansion on Norma’s orders, and her generous gesture of settling his overdue rent. Though he resents being beholden to her, Joe reluctantly accepts the situation and begins making the mansion his temporary home, initially occupying a cozy room above the garage before graduating to more luxurious quarters within the mansion itself. As he works tirelessly on Norma’s script, he’s struck by the stark realization that she remains blissfully unaware of the waning allure of her once-celebrated career. Her refusal to entertain even the slightest criticism of her work is matched only by her insistence on subjecting him to a marathon viewing of her vintage films each evening. It’s clear that Norma is lost in a haze of nostalgia, and Joe soon discovers that Max has been secretly fueling her fantasies by sending her fan mail himself. This revelation serves as a sobering reminder that Norma’s psyche is precariously poised on the edge of fragility, having previously attempted to take her own life.

As the weeks pass, Norma dotes on Joe, showering him with lavish gifts and attention. She even presents him with an exquisite tuxedo for a private New Year’s Eve celebration that will be attended by only the two of them. However, when Joe learns that Norma has developed romantic feelings for him, he’s horrified and attempts to let her down gently. Her reaction is far from subtle - she slaps him and retreats to the safety of her room. Convinced that his time with her is at an end, Joe makes a hasty exit to attend a party at his friend Artie Green’s (Webb) house, where he rekindles his acquaintance with Betty Schaefer. While still skeptical about most of his work, she identifies one scene in his script as having genuine potential. With a mix of reluctance and curiosity, Joe agrees to collaborate with her on the project, and subsequently informs Max that he’s decided to leave Norma’s employ. However, when Max breaks the devastating news that Norma has attempted to take her own life using Joe’s razor blade, he abandons his social engagement and returns to the mansion, where he tenderly apologizes to Norma and ultimately succumbs to their shared passion.

As Norma’s script finally takes shape, she dispatches it to Cecil B. DeMille at Paramount Studios, her anticipation tempered by the weight of uncertainty. It is not long before the phone begins to ring, bearing the name of Gordon Cole, a Paramount executive with an agenda that has nothing to do with Norma’s artistic endeavors. Initially dismissive of Cole’s overtures, she insists on communicating only with DeMille himself, her resolve as unyielding as the polished chrome trim of her 1929 Isotta Fraschini Tipo 8A, a majestic vintage roadster that serves as a symbol of her fading Hollywood glamour. As she arrives at the studio, flanked by Joe and Max, the latter’s discreet chauffeur duties masking a deeper history with Norma - one that predates their current arrangement. DeMille, ever the gracious host, warmly receives Norma, while his assistant privately shares the devastating verdict on her script: it is, in fact, a creative misfire.

Meanwhile, as Norma submits to a grueling regimen of beauty treatments designed to revive her star power, Joe secretly collaborates with Betty on a screenplay that will ultimately seal their fate. Though now engaged to Artie, Betty finds herself inexorably drawn to Joe’s charms, a development that fills him with dismay as he becomes entangled in a love triangle of his own making. When Norma discovers the script bearing Betty’s name, she unleashes a withering phone call, painting Joe in a light that is far from flattering. Unbeknownst to Norma, Joe has orchestrated a dramatic confrontation at their lavish mansion, inviting Betty to bear witness to the truth: he is not the devoted suitor she believes him to be, but rather a man comfortable living off Norma’s affections. As Betty departs in tears, Joe sets his sights on departure, his resolve strengthened by the realization that Norma’s comeback is an illusion, her fan letters nothing more than a product of Max’s devotion. With her threats of self-destruction echoing through the halls, she takes aim at Joe as he prepares to leave, ultimately ending his life with a fatal shot that sends him plummeting into the pool, his mortality a stark reminder of the transience of Hollywood fame and the destructive power of unchecked ego.

As the narrative loop circles back to its inception, Joe’s somber tones paint a vivid portrait of impending doom, his concern palpable as he contemplates Norma’s inability to reconcile with the crushing shame that awaits her. The weight of her forgotten status hangs precariously, threatening to shatter the fragile facade she’s constructed around herself. Meanwhile, the police arrive at the scene, their presence a stark reminder of the harsh realities that lie ahead.

But by the time they appear, Norma has already succumbed to the crushing pressure, her grip on reality tenuous at best. In a desperate attempt to cling to a semblance of control, she becomes convinced that the cameras and lights are merely a prop for her latest cinematic venture. Max seizes this opportunity, cleverly manipulating the situation by playing along with Norma’s delusion, coaxing her down the grand staircase with an actor’s flair.

As Joe’s narrative voiceover weaves its way through the scene, his words take on a haunting quality, as if fate itself has decided to spare Norma the agony of discovery. “The dream she had clung to so desperately,” he remarks, “had enveloped her.” In a poignant moment, Norma delivers a short yet powerful monologue, her voice filled with an almost childlike excitement as she revels in the joy of being back on set. And then, with a nod to the cinematic gods, she utters the iconic line that has become synonymous with Old Hollywood: “All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.” The scene is bathed in a warm, golden light, as if the very fabric of reality has been momentarily suspended, allowing Norma to bask in the fleeting glory of her own private cinematic universe.