“Hollywood: the only place in the world where a man gets stabbed in the back while climbing a ladder.”

William Faulkner, one of the greatest novelists and social critics to ever put pen to paper, famously said this on the subject of the film industry, which he had some experience with as a screenwriter, but who was always viewed as something of an outsider, primarily a result of his own decision to keep a distance from an industry in which he refused to allow himself to get lost. There are generally two kinds of people working in Hollywood – those who are fully immersed in the glamour and splendour of the industry, and the outsiders who keep their distance, maintaining a careful amount of caution to prevent becoming part of a brutal system that breaks more spirits than it realises dreams. Faulkner is one of the inspirations for a character in The Bad and the Beautiful, in which Vincente Minnelli takes a brief sojourn from his colourful, lavish musicals and comedies, to adapt the short story “Of Good and Evil” by George Bradshaw, which follows the trials and tribulations of a movie mogul intent on becoming the most powerful producer in the business, as he attempts to mount another production – all of which is seen through the eyes of three of the former colleagues who he has slighted in the past, but whose respect he genuinely believes he can regain, only to discover that their disdain for him and his actions run far deeper than the superficial grudges they hold against him. One by one, they reveal how this man gave them their start in the industry, but also ultimately became their worst enemy after his manipulation and questionable morals came with a considerable cost. One of the great films about Hollywood made right at the heart of its Golden Age, The Bad and the Beautiful is a fascinating and revealing character study that is as daring as it is poetic, revealing insights into showbusiness and its many crooked qualities that are often concealed under layers of glamour that are very rarely realistic.

There are few topics that Hollywood loves more than itself, and as a result, there are countless works across every conceivable genre about show business and the challenges of entering into the industry. The Bad and the Beautiful is one of the definitive texts on the subject, which is a result of Minnelli and screenwriter Charles Schnee putting their years of expertise together to adapt Bradshaw’s story, expanding it effectively enough to cover several different themes, each one perfectly placed together to create an engaging and enthralling affair, while never leaning too far into the academic side of showbusiness, as this is slightly too didactic and dull for such a film. The structure of the film is incredibly unique and allows for a substantial amount of narrative ground to be covered. The film begins with a simple premise – three collaborators of a formerly notable producer are called in by a colleague and asked to work with him one last time. Then one by one, they each outline the reasons why they refuse to ever lend their talents to his pursuits again, told through a series of flashbacks in which we see their interactions with the producer, as well as their own experiences in Hollywood, which reveals quite a bit about their journeys through the industry. Each of the stories occupies roughly a third of the film, which not only gives us broad insights into the various roles (since the characters consist of an actor, a director and a writer) but also prevents the film from meandering too much, allowing each segment to function as a mostly self-contained narrative, connected to the rest of the film but certainly not dependent on those elements to be effective. The level of detail that went into realizing these ideas is staggering, and lends a lot of credence to the themes that populate this film, which prove to be much richer and more evocative than we would have imagined at a cursory glance.

An extension of the very ambitious narrative structure comes when we consider the cast of this film. At this point, the industry was focused on constructing films that were more driven by a couple of major stars who persist throughout the film, rather than ensemble-based offerings, at least in terms of the melodrama genre, which was usually anchored by a couple of notable performers. There were exceptions, and The Bad and the Beautiful is a very pertinent example of this in practice – the film is usually credited as being arguably Kirk Douglas’ finest hour as an actor (a contentious opinion, but one that does hold a lot of merits, and I am personally inclined to this belief), but it’s not only his work that shines throughout this film but also that of the rest of the cast. Except for a large ensemble of supporting players (which include recognizable faces such as Leo G. Carroll, Kathleen Freeman and Gloria Grahame, in an unexpectedly compelling supporting part), the film is essentially anchored by five performances – Douglas is the unscrupulous, manipulative producer who only appears through flashbacks, and thus has to effectively fill in the gaps with the strength of his performance, and he’s exquisite. The three former collaborators are Lana Turner in one of her most challenging and complex roles, Barry Sullivan and Dick Powell, both of whom are effortlessly charming and bring a significant amount of depth. Walter Pidgeon holds court as the producing partner whose sole purpose is to connect the stories, being the catalyst for the narrative, and whose stern but friendly demeanour is exceptionally moving. The cast works well together – their segments see them all doing astonishing work, and their chemistry with the rest of the cast is splendid, allowing The Bad and the Beautiful to be a fantastic effort from everyone involved and a genuinely terrific work in terms of how it brings out the very best in all the actors.

Based on the premise and the scope of ideas with which this film had to work, The Bad and the Beautiful was quite an intimidating endeavour and one that would find many filmmakers crushed by its sheer ambition. Fortunately, Minnelli was someone who had been working in the industry long enough to have some firsthand knowledge of the subject being explored and was more than capable of effectively bringing these ideas to life. The short story on which the film was based could have gone in any direction, and there had been as many comedic romps set in Hollywood as there were gritty, hardboiled film noir. Yet, the decision was to take a more simple approach, crafting an elegant and deeply sentimental melodrama, which required very careful attention to detail and an appropriate amount of dedication to the underlying premise. A master of the genre (as evident by some of his other non-musical works), Minnelli had a keen eye for the emotional inventories of his films, making sure that they registered effectively without becoming too overwrought or saccharine, as this would remove any promise it had of presenting a sense of reality, particularly since melodrama has often been used as a codeword to conceal heavy-handed, overly sentimental works that exist solely to stir an emotional reaction. There is a grandeur to The Bad and the Beautiful that we notice from the start – it’s very stylish, with everything from the cinematography, (Robert L. Surtees’ photography is extremely impressive), to the costuming and production design, being perfect down to the smallest detail – but it is complemented, rather than contradicted, by the slightly more bleak, gritty tone that begins to manifest as the film progresses. There are challenging ideas embedded in this film, which could only be addressed by a director whose commitment to these ideas drives the entire production.

There is an argument to be made that The Bad and the Beautiful could be the greatest film on the subject of Hollywood ever made, with proponents citing its epic scope and ability to touch on both the broadly familiar and intricately detailed aspects of the industry signalling a firm understanding of how the industry functions, as well as the legacy it knew it was leaving in its wake. A very compelling film that is filled to the brim with candour and honest commitment to examining every recess of this industry, it captures a rare kind of tone, something between grit and splendour, using this very effectively as the foundation for a thrilling, engaging exploration of Hollywood and its tendency to break the spirits of anyone who does not subscribe to the stringent, one-dimensional ideals of showbusiness. It’s wonderfully exhilarating and deeply compelling, and lends itself to a lot of intriguing conversations – and its legacy is even stronger considering the extent to which we see a lot of these same principles being replicated in the contemporary form of the industry, which has changed very little, being just as self-obsessed and ruthless today as it was several decades ago. Anchored by magnificent performances from a cast delivering career-best work, and matched by Minnelli’s sharp and engaging direction, The Bad and the Beautiful is a truly terrific film and earns every ounce of our respect and attention, being one of the most truly extraordinary explorations of the film industry, both its soaring merits and its terrifying shortcomings, both of which coalesce into a portrait of Hollywood that proves that there has never been a more pertinent saying that “there’s no business like show business” – for better or worse.