The Lost Weekend

 

I grew up in a household where alcohol was not consumed in any form, not even as an ingredient in recipes. It simply was not a factor in our lives, although I had relatives who drank, and from that perspective, I was familiar with the destructive power of drink. So when I became an adult, I took that upbringing with me and never touched alcohol. I’m nearly fifty now and can happily say that I have never drank beer or liquor and have never had to worry about getting a DUI. If I haven’t drank up till now, I’m not likely to start at this late date. 

People react in a variety of ways when they find this out about me. I’ve had people who refuse to believe it, people who appreciate my self-discipline and convictions, and people who outright mock me for my principles. The latter group seems to be trying to convince themselves that there is simply no way to enjoy life without alcohol involved. “I’ll bet you’re fun at parties,” they snidely respond as if I could be shamed by that response. This is the same group that cannot fathom going to a sporting event or concert without a few drinks, as if these things are not fun to do without it. That kind of thinking catches up to a person later in life and can lead to so much misery in the end. 

I speak about these things because this morning I watched the 1945 film The Lost Weekend, and it had me contemplating addiction. I was aware of what this film was about before watching it today, but my memory of the story was hazy. As I sat in my theater room watching Ray Milland battle his demons, I couldn’t help but wonder where my own life would be had I allowed something like alcohol get its claws in me. Would I have ended up like him, a slave to addiction and physically sick when I couldn’t slake that thirst? Maybe. Maybe not. 

This seems to be a film presenting an extreme case of alcoholism, far worse than any person I know personally, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of people out there that have it this bad. I was thinking about William Holden and how he bled to death in his apartment because he was too drunk to save himself after a bad fall. I thought of Dolores O’Riordan, lead singer for The Cranberries, who drowned in a bathtub in London following a prolonged alcohol binge. There are so many more I could mention, but these were the two main ones that were on my mind as I watched The Lost Weekend and contemplated what it was trying to say.

This film came out in 1945, not long after the repeal of prohibition. America was still touchy on the subject of alcohol, and there was general fear in the air that this film would encourage anti-drinking groups to push for the prohibition’s reinstatement. There were rumors that a gangster was enlisted to bribe director Billy Wilder into handing over the negative, where it could be safely destroyed. Wilder, for his part, joked that if a bribe had been offered, he would have taken it and burned the negative himself. It all seems fantastical now, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

The film is a cautionary tale about a young man, Don Birnam (Ray Milland), who is slated to take a weekend with his brother, where he can be watched carefully as he tries to give up drinking. Unfortunately, his need for alcohol prevents him from rational thought, and he has stashed a bottle hanging from some string outside his window. When he tries to retrieve it to hide in his baggage, he is caught, and the bottle is emptied down the sink. With no liquor and no money, his brother inexplicably leaves him alone for a few hours before their train is to depart; but a desperate man will find a way to get what he wants. Don discovers ten dollars meant for the housekeeper and uses it to buy two bottles of rye whiskey, then spends the rest of the evening at the bar getting more and more drunk, missing the train. He spends the rest of the week in and out of the bar, drinking himself sick and begging people for money, pawning stuff, anything to continue feeding his addiction until he finally gets to a point where he can’t stand himself anymore and begins to think about taking his own life to end the suffering. In a last ditch effort to rid himself of his demons, he pawns his girl’s coat in exchange for a gun. 

There is some entertainment value to this film, but for the most part, this film feels like one of those old 16mm films they would play in the classroom for middle-school kids to teach them about the dangers of liquor. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it does mean that the film is preachy, moralizing us through the drama. Ray Milland is doing his best to sell us on the personal hell he is going through as he goes through withdrawals, but because of the way the script is written, it doesn’t quite work. In the beginning of the film, we learn that it has been several days since his last drink, and aside from his attempts to smuggle the bottle of rye into his luggage, he doesn’t come across as someone with a bad case of the D.T.’s. Later, though, he will go through major withdrawals, including hallucinations, if he goes without alcohol for more than a few hours. The worst of it, though, is that the film wants us to believe in a happy ending by showing him resist the drink and sit down at his typewriter to chronicle the lost weekend into a new book. Aside from having his girl, Helen (Jane Wyman), at his side this time, there is nothing different than his earlier attempt to write this book. That time he failed miserably because his need to drink overcame his desire to write. We’re expected to believe that that won’t happen this time as if this addiction is something he just suddenly snaps out of. The film ends on him starting to write, but I couldn’t help but think that in a few hours’ time, he would be grasping for another bottle of rye all over again.

Ray Milland is acting his heart out here, but it should be noted that when advance screenings were held for this picture, complete with a temporary score, audiences felt that he was overacting and were laughing at him. Once the score was replaced with a more appropriate one and a reshoot of the final scene was spliced in, opinions were completly changed, he was nominated for the Oscar. This shows at least a little connection between how a performance is received based on elements other than just the acting itself.

What ultimately sinks this picture is just how broad everything is portrayed. There is no subtlety to this message, making it all too obvious that we are being moralized to. It matters little that I happen to agree with the message. I shouldn’t feel like I’m sitting in on a lecture when watching a film. On top of all that, the film treats alcoholism as a serious disease, then tacks on a happy ending, undermining the whole message. The film has its heart in the right place, but it feels dated and sermonizing, making it more of a time capsule curiosity than something that really holds up anymore. The film won Best Picture at the Academy Awards that year, and it is better than the films it was competing against, but that says more for the other films than it does for this one.

Academy Award Nominations:

Best Picture: Charles Brackett (won)

Best Director: Billy Wilder (won)

Best Actor: Ray Milland (won)

Best Adapted Screenplay: Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett (won)

Best Cinematography: John F. Seitz

Best Original Score: Miklós Rózsa

Best Film Editing: Doane Harrison

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Release Date: November 29, 1945

Running Time: 101 Minutes

Not Rated

Starring: Ray Milland, Jane Wyman, Phillip Terry, Howard da Silva, Doris Dowling, and Frank Faylen

Directed By: Billy Wilder