FEDORA

"Fedora" was Billy Wilder's last masterpiece, a perfect companion piece to "Sunset Boulevard" down to the casting of William Holden as the male lead, (here he's a down-on-his-luck producer rather than a struggling writer), and it is shamefully undervalued as if the film's very artifice isn't worth taking seriously, (indeed someone described the film to me as being so camp all the female roles should be played by drag-queens, missing the point by a mile). While at times darkly funny and certainly cynical, it is also deeply moving in ways we simply don't expect from Wilder. This is a movie that betrays an old master's love of movies, no longer biting the hand that feeds him but longing for the good old days when movie stars had faces that the camera adored. The story may be largely far-fetched, full of clever in-jokes and allusions to "Sunset Boulevard" and other movies about the movies but it remains a deeply affectionate homage rather than a mere pastiche; a triumph of style embracing content.

Holden's uncertain acting may be the weakest thing in the picture, (it might have felt like a good idea at the time to cast the star of "Sunset Boulevard" but it doesn't really pay off), but to our surprise, the astonishing performances of both Marthe Keller and Hildegard Knef more than compensate; even Jose Ferrer is good here. And who, amongst movie lovers, won't be brought to tears by the scene in which Henry Fonda, playing himself, comes to deliver Fedora's honory Oscar? View this, not as some half-hearted tribute-cum-horror movie about fading movie queens and the legacy and legend of Garbo but as a very great director's love letter to the industry that nurtured him and to the magic of cinema in general. Surely now this is ripe for rediscovery.