Summary:
In the hallway of Norma’s house, Max answers a phone call from a desperate Betty, who wants to speak to Joe about his Dark Windows script. Max tells Betty that Joe is not there and asks her to not call again. Lounging around the now-filled pool, Norma asks Max who called, and Max lies and says nobody—just someone inquiring about a stray dog. She then asks Max to deliver her Salome script to Cecil B. DeMille, a prolific director who apparently said Norma was his “greatest star.” Norma admits this was the case years ago, but claims “I never looked better in my life. You know why? Because I've never been as happy in my life” to justify her insistence that DeMille will gladly direct her Salome screenplay.
Later on, Joe reveals the extent of his passive acceptance of Norma’s dominance over him. “She'd taught me how to play bridge by then, just as she'd taught me some fancy tango steps, and what wine to drink with what fish.” When the two are en route to play bridge at one of the waxworks’ house, Joe goes to Schwab's Pharmacy to buy more cigarettes for Norma, where he encounters Betty and Artie. Betty is thrilled to see Joe and notifies him of Sheldrake’s interest in his “half-sold” Dark Windows script. Even though she believes the two could effectively collaborate and create a worthwhile script, Joe declines the idea and says, “I’ve given up writing on spec...as a matter of fact, I’ve given up writing altogether.” Max enters the pharmacy and asks Joe to rejoin him and Norma. As Joe leaves, he snarkily tells Betty, “Thanks anyway, for your interest in my career,” to which a disappointed Betty replies, “It's not your career—it's mine. I kind of hoped to get in on this deal. I don't want to be a reader all my life. I want to write.”
Whenever Norma suspects Joe of ennui, she provides some entertainment for him and imitates a Mack Sennett Bathing Beauty and Charlie Chaplin’s Tramp—two essential emblems of the silent film era. During this, Joe contemplates Betty’s aspiration as a writer and remarks in voiceover, “She was so like all us writers when we first hit Hollywood, itching with ambition, panting to get your names up there: Screenplay by. Original Story by. Hmph! Audiences don't know somebody sits down and writes a picture. They think the actors make it up as they go along.” Max interrupts Norma’s Chaplin routine to notify her of a phone call from Paramount Studios. Instead of DeMille, a studio executive named Gordon Cole has contacted Norma. She angrily refuses to talk to him because she believes she is important enough to warrant a personal call from DeMille. After making 12 successful films together, Norma is deluded into thinking DeMille will direct her triumphant return to film, and she threatens to keep him waiting.
Three days and “about half a pound of makeup" later, Norma orders Max to drive her to Paramount, as she has received more urgent calls from them. At the main gate, Max tells the young, naive guard they are there to see DeMille, who asks if they have an appointment. Max replies, “no appointment is necessary. I am bringing Norma Desmond,” and the perplexed guard replies, “Norma who?” Norma then spots an older guard who immediately recognizes her and opens the gate. As they pass through the gate, Norma asks the older guard to teach his younger coworker some manners: “Tell him without me he wouldn't have any job, because without me there wouldn't be any Paramount Studio.”
An assistant approaches DeMille, who is shooting Samson and Delilah, and informs him that Norma is here to see him. DeMille realizes the purpose of the meeting is to discuss her “god-awful script,” but reacts to Norma’s diminished fame with surprising sympathy. He recognizes her as a victim of the destructive film industry and sound revolution, acknowledging that her youthful charm, naivety, and fame crumbled under the cruel pressure of Hollywood's appetite for youth. He comments, “a dozen press agents working overtime can do terrible things to the human spirit.” DeMille agrees to pause the production of the film to meet with Norma.
Max drives the Isotta-Fraschini adjacent to the sound stage, and Norma and DeMille warmly greet each other. Due to the numerous calls from Cole, Norma believes the filming of Salome will commence promptly, much to DeMille’s confusion. He invites her to sit in his director’s chair while he finds the true reasoning for Cole’s calls. As Norma waits for him, a sound boom mic brushes the feathers of her veiled hat, and she pushes it away, clearly repulsed. An older technician named Hog-Eye recognizes Norma and focuses the spotlight on her. An excited crowd of extras and other members of the crew greet and admire Norma, illuminated in the shaft of bright light and receiving the attention she’s been craving for years.
During a phone exchange with Cole, DeMille learns the studio is only interested in Norma’s luxurious, antique Isotta-Fraschini to rent for a Crosby picture. Forced to apprise Norma of the misunderstanding, he reenters the set and commands Hog-Eye to move the spotlight off Norma: “turn that light back where it belongs.” DeMille is prepared to tell her the truth—that he can’t direct Salome and put her back into the spotlight—but hesitates once he sees Norma weeping. Her return to the studio and subsequent adoration from fans has moved her to tears—“I just didn't realize what it would be like to come back to the old studio. I had no idea how I missed it”—and insists that Salome would be their greatest feature yet. DeMille attempts to reject her gracefully, asserting the expense of the film would make it impossible to produce. Norma refuses to pay attention and reminds DeMille of her 10:00-4:30 schedule, but she is soon interrupted by an assistant, who tells DeMille they are ready to shoot. DeMille pardons himself and asks Norma to watch, as “pictures have changed quite a bit.”
Meanwhile, Max and Joe wait outside the soundstage. Max reminiscences on Norma’s stardom and explains that the whole row of offices in the building across from them was Norma’s former dressing room, and his office was where the Readers’ Department is currently located. He then spots Betty walking outside toward her outside, and Joe proceeds to greet her. They continue their talk on the Dark Windows script, and Joe generously offers, “Just so you don't think I'm a complete swine—if there's anything in Dark Windows you can use, take it. It's all yours.” Doubtful of her writing abilities, Betty eagerly wants to collaborate with Joe on the script. One of her ideas is to remove the script’s exploration of “a killer's sick mind,” and Joe defends its inclusion, saying, “psychopaths sell like hot cakes.” Joe hears the horn of the Isotta-Fraschini, and begins to excuse himself from her office. Betty proposes some hours for them to work and claims she’s at his disposal next month, as Artie will be out of town shooting in Arizona. Joe asks what involvement Artie has in her availability, and she informs him of their engagement (“you couldn’t find a nicer guy”). Joe proceeds to urge Betty to complete the story herself, but offers an angle once he begins to rush off. Betty praises his idea, and Joe quickly leaves, much to her frustration.
As Joe descends the stairs to the lot, a vexed Max reveals that he has found out the motivations behind Paramount’s calls. They spot Norma, appearing enthused and radiant, exiting the sound stage with DeMille by her side. He gently turns Norma down by stating, “We’ll see what we can do,” but Norma hopefully misinterprets his vague words and tells Joe that DeMille will direct Salome as his next feature. Desperate to exile himself from his troubling situation with Norma, DeMille turns to his assistant and says, “Get Gordon Cole. Tell him to forget about her car. Tell him he can get another car someplace. I’ll buy him five old cars if necessary.”
Analysis:
As a recluse, Norma protects herself from addressing her own faded Hollywood obscurity, but in these chapters, we finally see Norma reemerge in reality to soul-crushing results. She jubilantly returns to Paramount Studio for what she perceives will become her victorious comeback—her Salome script. During this visit, her fame is briefly reactivated and she believes DeMille will direct Salome, but we know he and the studio have no interest in re-catalyzing her career. Filled with this false hope, these chapters accelerate Norma’s spiral into her own self-delusioning the critical raising action for the film’s tragic, calamitous climax.
A tension between young and old Hollywood pervades Norma’s trip to Paramount. This collision becomes evident when Norma arrives at the studio gate in her Isotta-Fraschini. The young security guard does not recognize her or her name, but the older security guard immediately remembers her and allows her on the lot without a pass. The disparity between the guards’ respective reactions to Norma illustrates generational differences concerning stardom. Norma was an icon of the silent era, and as time has passed, she remains a generation-defining figure from the past, hence the adored reaction from the older guard - a witness to her stardom. However, because her fame is firmly rooted in the past, Norma is of little relevance to those not belonging to her generation, which explains the befuddled reaction from the other guard—a member of the younger generation. Norma asks the older guard to remind his coworker that “without me he wouldn't have any job, because without me there wouldn't be any Paramount Studio.” Here, Norma insists that her stardom has enabled the existence and survival of Paramount, a highly ironic sentiment given that the younger guard did not recognize her as an important Hollywood star, and the studio has flourished without her stardom for decades.
The tension between contemporary and old Hollywood further surfaces when a sound boom microphone brushes the feathers her veiled hat when she sits in DeMille’s director chair. Repulsed by everything the sound microphone symbolizes—the sound era, technological advancements in Hollywood, and above all her own obsolescence—Norma then pushes it away in disgust. While DeMille graciously invites her to watch how the making of films has evolved since her absence from the silver screen, Norma refuses to exhibit an interest in such matters. She resents the heavy amount of dialogue and sound comprising the modern film, and would rather recapture the glory of her heyday than adapt to the changing medium.
In these chapters, we view the poignant extent of Norma’s forgotten status and pitiful attempt to reignite her career, but we also critically catch of glimpse of Norma as the once-famous movie star. When Hog-Eye,a member of the older generation, turns the spotlight on her, it is as though she has emerged from a deep, dark cave to her first ray of sunshine in decades. Older extras, actors, and technicians flock to Norma, who suddenly receives the attention she has yearned for decades. However, this adoration is ephemeral. When Cecil B. DeMille mercilessly instructs Hog-Eye to “turn that light back where it belongs,” the spotlight deserts Norma, and the cast and crew quickly move on and prepare for the forthcoming scene. Though this reprisal of fame was remarkably fleeting, Norma is still overjoyed and moved by the interaction with the crowd, even when the spotlight leaves her. When DeMille approaches her, she gloats, “Did you see them? Did you see how they came?" DeMille attempts to delicately explain the misinterpretation of her visit, but this becomes ruptured once she raves about her return to film and begins bartering her work availability as if she has already been hired. DeMille realizes the extent of her self-fulfilling delusions and desperation, which explains his subsequent attempts to distance himself from her pursuit of fame altogether.
DeMille’s demand to “turn that light back here it belongs” has special thematic significance concerning Norma’s celebrity image. When the spotlight literally and metaphorically leaves Norma and the crowd dissipates, we are reminded of the breathtaking power of film technology, which can turn a person into an icon— as it did to Norma in her early career—only to completely extinguish their stardom when it moves on. The scene showcases Norma’s enduring reverence from the older generation, but it additionally illustrates her inability to reenter the world of contemporary film. To the older crowd, Norma is an icon from the past who they had forgotten—one of the actors exclaims, “I thought she [Norma] was dead!"—but she ultimately does not belong on set. Ironically, she has no place on the soundstage precisely because she was an actress, as many older members of the crew had encountered more prolonged success in the movie-making business. This includes DeMille, who replies “I hate to think where that puts me. I could be her [Norma’s] father” to his assistant's claim that “she [Norma] must be a million years old!” It is the star—particularly the female star—who undergoes a detrimental career decline. Norma will end up acting in one more scene in her life—when Max directs her descent into police custody.
