As part of the research project: ‘When Memories Come Alive’, Murray Edwards college recently hosted an event where they showed two films from the classical Hollywood era which feature and represent memory. With generous funding by the UK Research and Innovation institute, the screenings are part of a broader interdisciplinary collaboration that brings together scholars from a wide range of fields to explore the phenomenon of vivid memory. The project specifically hopes to bridging historical and literary analysis to uncover nuances of the subjective memory experience that frequently escape the reach of psychological and neuroscientific studies, hopefully looking to inspire new experiments on memory and cognition in the future. Writers Ruby and Dan each attended one of the screenings and have offered to share their experiences of watching the shows below.

Ruby Redwood

Unlike the classics of early Hollywood, I had not heard of William Wyler’s The Best Years Of Our Lives (1946) before sitting down to watch it at Murray Edwards. Its effect on me, though, was equal to that provoked by any more well-known classic.

The film follows a period in the lives of soldiers Fred, Al and Homer, who meet while travelling back to America from military service abroad. Upon their return, the men grapple with loneliness, PTSD, disconnection from the women in their families and, in Homer’s case, being treated differently due to the loss of both his hands. Homer’s story was particularly moving, not just due to the outstanding performance by real-life veteran Harold Russel tugging vigorously on my heartstrings, but also due to its seminal depiction of war-induced physical disability and its discomfiting effect on interpersonal relationships. The film won seven Academy Awards, including Russel’s Best Supporting Actor, which he won alongside an honorary award for raising awareness for disabled veterans; the Academy had created this award under the assumption he would not win the Oscar itself, as he was only an amateur performer, but he did, becoming the first and only actor ever two have won two Academy Awards for the same performance.

“The three characters find themselves…alienated from a way of life which only exists in recollected memories”

The film was shown as part of a project specialising in the interaction between scientific and humanities-focused approaches to the understanding of memory. The Best Years Of Our Lives addresses this issue head-on, showcasing the profound effects of memory’s distortion in a post-war landscape. The three characters find themselves incapable of restoring the qualities that defined their previous routines, alienated from a way of life which only exists in recollected memories. Dr Joseph Bitney’s introduction to the film emphasised how the film’s unconventional expression forwarded this investigation. Compared to other mainstream films released around the same time, particularly in regards to the movement (or lack thereof) of the camera, which is often set in one place and left to record the scene passively and unobtrusively, the viewer is prompted to consider the contrast between the stasis of the environment and the restlessness of the three men: swelling the film’s sense of displacement. Ultimately, the men must begin a new phase in life as alterations of their old selves, compiled of the merged tissues of their pre-war and post-war identities.

Dan Porrit

Introducing the screening of Billy Wilder’s 1950 noir Sunset Boulevard, Cambridge English Professor Joseph Bitney described the classic as “possibly the greatest film Hollywood ever made about itself”. And, I must say, it’s easy to see why the work thrives on lists of critics’ favourites. As moving as it is grimly funny, Wilder’s probing of the system behind the cameras still resonates with the Hollywood factory today. Part of a series of screenings exploring the theme ‘When Memories Come Alive’, Sunset Boulevard illustrates the interplay between acts of personal nostalgia, and the legacy of a departed age of cinema that lives on only in the minds of its discarded performers.

The film follows struggling screenwriter Joe Gillis (William Holden), whose voiceover narrates his twisting relationship with Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson), a faded star of the silent era. Having wandered into her mansion while evading debt collectors, Joe finds himself agreeing to edit Desmond’s own script, which she is convinced will be her golden ticket back into mainstream success. Financial and emotional dependence become entangled with a dream of returning to the silver screen, as the true extent of Desmond’s delusion unravels.

The film boasts one of the most iconic opening scenes of the 20th century: a shot from the bottom of a swimming pool, looking up at Joe, introduces us to the protagonist. Wilder famously overcame issues of filming through water by placing a mirror on the floor of the pool. However, admiring such technical innovation when watching Sunset Boulevard quickly gave way to reflection on the poignant story of an industry trampling on its past performers.

“Sunset Boulevard illustrates the interplay between acts of personal nostalgia, and the legacy of a departed age of cinema”

Swanson gives a deliberately melodramatic performance, harking back to styles of the silent era. Nevertheless, desire for the vintage is limited among depicted filmmaking executives. Wilder captures this tension in one brilliantly symbolic payoff, when it is revealed that Desmond has mistaken Paramount Studios’ interest in her aging car for curiosity in the future of her career. This confusion coincides with Desmond being patronised by her former mentor, a male director still thriving professionally in his 70s. The gendered angle proves tellingly ahead of its time, its relevance in the screen industry still shining more than 75 years later. A masterclass in production design, Desmond’s mansion serves as protection from the outside world and the passage of time that chips away at her self-worth. Joe leaves the house on New Year’s Eve, craving company of his own age; you can practically smell the fresh air and rain as he momentarily breaks free from the bubble of rotting hope.

Wilder may have literally hidden his mirror, but the reflection shining back at Hollywood – an image of a fickle world, churning through actors in the name of relevance – is as clear today as it was in 1950. As Nora Desmond stared through the lens of her longed-for closeup, the years between the final scene of Sunset Boulevard and a modern audience all but faded away.