Review of The Lost Weekend (1945) by Greg T — 19 May 2012

Billy Wilder pulls few punches in his disturbing, punishing chronicle of one man's descent into alcohol-addled stupor, lamenting his lost hopes and dreams and looking forward to nothing in his future other than his next bottle of rye.

Pushing away his loving brother and his best girl, Don Burnam forsakes a weekend of recuperation in the countryside for a gloomy crawl around the bars and pawn shops of New York , descending deeper into self-loathing and humiliation.

Wilder's film, almost shelved for being too depressing, came at the tail end of WWII when the threat posed by a generation lost, confused and angry called for this cautionary tale about a messed up life, a man and a woman, a bottle, about nightmares, horrors, and humiliations.

The horrors and humiliations are graphic and cumulative, and Ray Milland's powerful and hypnotic performance as a man who can't control his urges is a masterclass of charm and repugnance. A mightily impressive, sobering film, rightly recognised by the Academy as the Best Picture at the 1945 Oscars.