Recently, I found myself in Los Angeles (part of a quixotic excursion in the name of bowler hats and oversized apples) strolling around (1) a tiny, but well-known cemetery, (2) a brand new state-of-the-art theater, and (3) a secluded portion of the Hollywood Walk of Fame just past some construction. The common denominator for all three was my favorite filmmaker, Billy Wilder. The great director’s final resting place is in a small memorial home just off the busy Wilshire Boulevard and nearly hidden if you don’t have exact directions. I’m not usually one to include graveyards in my tourist destinations, but I made an exception here. Mr. Wilder’s grave is somewhat separate from most of the others in the cemetery, and he’s just to the left of the actor Carroll O’Connor and his frequent leading man Jack Lemmon. Walter Matthau is also buried nearby and the cemetery’s most famous resident is Marilyn Monroe, whose two best-known films were both directed by Wilder

Just a short walking distance away from the gravesite is the new Billy Wilder Theater, located in the Hammer Museum. Unfortunately, I was there just a few days before the theater’s official opening (a screening of The Apartment with Shirley MacLaine in person was held last Friday, the 9th) and was quickly ushered away when I tried to sneak a look inside. What I did see in person and via brochure looked highly impressive and the $7.5 million theater has the capacity to show technologies from “the earliest silent films requiring variable speed projection to the most current digital cinema and video,” one of very few (four, reportedly) theaters in the entire country with such resources.

Outside the theater, there are large pixellated images from a few of Wilder’s films, including the shot from Double Indemnity seen here. There were also posters for Some Like It Hot and Sunset Blvd. framed and encased in glass when I was there. The color pink serves as a dominant theme and can be found in additional large pixellated images depicting scenes from the director’s well-known films inside the lobby, as well as 294 of the leather seats inside the theater. One lone brown chair represents where Wilder liked to sit during screenings. A large portrait of the director and benefactor (his widow donated $5 million) is near one theater entrance, and included here at the bottom of the page.

Aside from visiting 10086 Sunset Boulevard, the only other notable Wilder-related site near Los Angeles that I was aware of is his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. It’s actually on Vine St., instead of Hollywood Blvd. where most of the stars are, and a construction crew had the sidewalk closed nearby when I was there. It’s still easy enough to find if you know where you’re looking and I was able to take a picture of the partially-cracked star. I’ve searched high and low to determine exactly when Wilder received the star, but haven’t found an answer.

Seeing the fingerprints Billy Wilder left behind his adopted home city made me think about why I enjoy his films so much. It’s always good to reevaluate one’s idols and preferences from time to time, lest we get stuck in a rut of the same favorite films, books, music, etc. without ever evolving our tastes. Keeping that in mind, it’s not difficult for me to understand why Wilder’s films are so dear to my heart and why I’ve been interested in him since I first understood that the director is usually the one most responsible for the films I love. Aside from his frequent mastery of story and character, Wilder was able to create stand-alone worlds that have become part of film iconography. His characters live on beyond the time we see them on screen and it’s not unreasonable to imagine Norma Desmond remaining in her crumbling mansion and playing her regular bridge games or C.C. Baxter infinitely pursuing Miss Kubelik between his constant bouts with the sniffles. I don’t know of another director who gave the world so many rich personalities, seemingly breathing life into fictional pieces of celluloid to the point that we feel like we’re witnessing moments of time in lives of unknown neighbors.

Trying to rationalize my love for Wilder’s work also brings to mind the key reason anyone ever responds strongly to anything - a personal ability to relate to something seen, heard or felt. I imagine my world view and opinions are quite close to those demonstrated by Billy Wilder. Cynicism, a need to question, and concealed sentimentality are all traits I seem to share with Wilder and his films. Certainly these subjective reasons are much of what makes humans choose their preferences, with personal definitions of taste serving to further narrow things into favorites. I know that one reason I like many of Wilder’s films is because they dare to show the darker side of humanity, a side often glossed over or exaggerated in movies and television shows from the same time period. Yet, I also enjoy the side of his filmography that’s romantic, funny, even full of hope. There’s hardly an emotion in life that isn’t well represented in one of Wilder’s movies.

All this gives me an excuse to mention Kino’s Billy Wilder Speaks DVD, containing a feature-length collection of interviews with Wilder conducted in 1989 by German filmmaker Volker Schlöndorff. An Oscar-winner for The Tin Drum, a film that Wilder had lobbied for Academy members to see in 1979 and subsequently won in the Foreign Language category, Schlöndorff was able to finally get his longtime friend on camera when Wilder’s biographer Hellmuth Karasek was also conducting interviews for his book (which was published in 1992 but still lacks an English translation). The DVD also includes several brief interview snippets as supplements, mostly about films not discussed in the main feature and with introductions by Schlöndorff, and trailers for several of Wilder’s more popular films. For Wilder admirers like myself, the whole thing is like an unexpected gift you find a few days after Christmas.

At the age of 83, the revered director still had plenty of sharp wit and insight to charm an audience. Alternating between his native German and English, Wilder seems loose and animated as he holds court. He tells some of his favorite stories about many of the classic films he directed and it’s apparent that he’s justifiably proud of many of them. He’s more than happy to pull out a copy of the script he and I.A.L. Diamond wrote for Some Like It Hot and talk with Schlöndorff about the famous scene where Jack Lemmon, with the help of a couple of maracas, tells Tony Curtis he’s about to marry Joe E. Brown.

Watching these interviews, it’s fairly easy to see how this man made so many enduring classics in seemingly different genres and tones. He seems to epitomize a Wilder movie himself, coming across as a charming, funny old-timer while maintaining some of the crusty cynicism with which his films are frequently labeled. His straightforward accounts of trying to set up a meeting with Marlene Dietrich each time he’s in Paris or the disastrous preview screening for Sunset Blvd. in Poughkeepsie (!) could have easily come from a Wilder film.

The extra interviews and trailers help the DVD rise above seeming like merely an extra feature addendum to one of Wilder’s films. Apparently, Schlöndorff’s interviews were shown in six half hour installments on German television in 1992. I’d be curious to know what was edited out and not included on the Kino DVD release. Schlöndorff mentions in this released version that Wilder asked him not to show the footage in America until after he had died because then he wouldn’t care what anyone said about him. Any worries Wilder had were misplaced since I can’t imagine too much negativity springing up from these interviews, but the unexpected timing of the release makes for a nice surprise.

Even though the existing interviews do not delve very deeply into some of Wilder’s less-celebrated films as much as Cameron Crowe’s highly enjoyable and informative book Conversations with Wilder, it’s still invaluable to see the aged director speak with such vim and vigor. The diverse topics discussed, ranging from Wilder’s little-seen concentration camp documentary Death Mills to whether he would have worked for free as a Hollywood director, make for a fantastic look at the filmmaker that also expands beyond movie set anecdotes. For those interested in hearing Wilder’s own take on things more than regurgitated gossip from a biographer for hire, this DVD stands alongside Crowe’s book as an essential reference, convenient for frequent revisiting like many of Wilder’s contributions to the film world.