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Halliwell’s ‘Who’s Who In The Movies’ describes Jack Lem­mon as an ‘American light comedy leading actor with Broadway experience; sometimes typed in mildly lecher­ous or otherwise sex-fraught roles’. Rarely can such a de­scription have been so grossly inadequate or plain factually wrong. A career that spanned over 45 years, almost 70 films and eight Oscar nominations says otherwise but the true story of this man’s career lies way beyond statistics.

It cannot be denied that many people will know Lemmon largely (or maybe solely) as ‘Daphne’ from ‘Some Like It Hot’, Felix from ‘The Odd Couple’ or C.C. Baxter from ‘The Apartment’.All great roles in which his comic talents shone in creating characters with whom audi­ences of millions empathised.And yet few of his greatest films–come­dies or not –were solely about laughs. In discussing his work, Lemmon identified a common thread throughout his films in which many of his most realised characters ‘must make a major decision – moral, ethical, political etc’.Whilst this device is perhaps not unusual in drama, it is more so in comedy and that is why many of his great ‘comedies’ go much farther than a comedy can be expected to.

This is certainly true of ‘The Apartment’. Made in 1960 (two years before I was born), it holds up extraordinarily well to this day. The depiction of corporate politics and the workplace ‘pecking order’ is both cynical and unerringly accurate; the grey suits may have been re­placed by ‘business casual’, whilst the Internet has replaced the typing pool but the main conflict and the nature of the protagonists remains perfectly observed.

C. C. Baxter is the Accounts Clerk on the way up through the unorthodox route of lending out his apartment key to his seniors for their assignations with secretaries and underlings. This central role certainly required an actor who could bring out the underlying humil­ity so that the audience remained sympathetic to Baxter throughout his toadying behavior.The sense of decency that pervaded Lemmon’s characteristation of C.C. Baxter was at the core of the film and is, of course, a recurring theme in Lemmon’s enduring popularity.

In fact, Lemmon arguably made Baxter into a hero although he is a pitiful character in many ways. Subsumed by the corporation of which he feels a part, he speaks in terms of ‘we’ when describing the Goliath insurance company during the tremendously evocative opening narra­tion. Described as ‘one big happy family’, the company is anything but and Baxter takes his time to realise that the top people who place such value on his apartment key are clearly no friends of his as they describe him as the schnook from the office and make clear that he can be fired if he ever crosses them. Neither do they feel any loyalty to him when he needs it especially later when their discretion might help him to avoid a beating.The complexity of the web in which he finds himself is perfectly illustrated by the many calls it takes to sort out a ‘double-booking’ situation. Once again the powers-that-be consider themselves doing Baxter a favour by moving their plans around.This is the Corporation as natural home for the shallow and inferior, propped up by job titles. Many of us have been there (I certainly have).You can almost hear David Brent in the background.

A truly affecting romance between Baxter and Fran Kuberlik (Shir­ley MacLaine) is at the heart of the story. Fran is the extra marital object of Baxter’s boss, Mr Sheldrake (Fred McMurray), but the audi­ence is rooting for the true romance to survive the machinations of the high flyers who seek to crush it for their own convenience.The combination of Lemmon’s portrayal and Wilder and I.A. L. Diamond’s screenplay, creates a palpable sense of longing on the screen through­out Baxter’s worship of Fran, right up until she fi nally acknowledges it. This could have been handled in melodrama (after all the two of them would find themselves unemployed and adrift in a new town if they follow their heart) but it was instead sealed, for me, by possibly the most romantic four words ever spoken on screen - ‘shut up and deal’.

Baxter seems to be prepared to take anything on the chin for the sake of his near-unspoken feelings for her. The disgust of his neigh­bours Dr and Mrs Dreyfuss (beautifully played by Jack Kruschen and Naomi Stevens) based on the mistaken view that Baxter is a gigolo, is a perfect example. His failure to set the record straight seems at dif­ferent times to be protective of his benefactors (especially Sheldrake) and of her, but it has a sense of heroism that is often misdirected. For her part, MacLaine plays Fran Kuberlik beautifully as tragically hyp­notised; she knows very well the hopelessness of a relationship with a serial adulterer but - even after tragedy strikes - she bemoans her continuing love for him and asks Baxter,‘Why can’t I ever fall in love with someone nice -like you?’ Good question.

The story of course deals with the base instincts of human be­haviour.We’d all like to think that we would not be tempted into the corporation’s moral disintegration but, until the tempting rewards are placed in our lap, we can never be sure. Whilst the desperation to keep such benefits was dealt with in later and more tragic fi lms (most notably ‘Save The Tiger’) Lemmon’s character here is very much the dreamer who aspires to the key to the Executive Washroom and the adjoining office to Sheldrake. The price of acquiring such rewards is placed in front of Baxter -and us -and the question of just how much he wants it becomes the core of the story. Some audiences may have found Baxter’s ingratiating attitude and his acceptance of bad treat­ment (why is he so understanding when Fran stands him up at the Theatre?) to be an irritant and a barrier to sympathy. This is a man who is, however, only beginning to wake up to the fact that he need not be a doormat for his ‘betters’. It takes a tragedy to jolt him and make him angry.That anger when he finds Fran helpless is beautifully illustrated by the speech in which he makes plain his accumulated hurt and disappointment—but it is of course the prelude to his nursing her back to health, once the reason for her being there becomes all too alarmingly clear.The fact that she never hears the speech is maybe as relevant as the speech itself at that stage in the story.

Wilder creates several scenes of awesome power without ever using fireworks.The story has tremendous momentum and every minute of every scene is crafted to its development.This is Wilder and Lemmon at their combined best.A great example is the scene in which Baxter, see­ing the broken compact mirror, realises that Fran is Sheldrake’s liaison. Beautifully played by Lemmon as his face illustrates the struggle to com­pute the facts and then to come to terms with their implications, it is also superbly set against the background noise of a wild Christmas party.The stillness of the moment is that much more poignant given the sur­roundings.

The role of Baxter was created for Lemmon byWilder and I.A. L (Izzy) Diamond, both of whom were taken aback by his performance on their previous collaboration - ‘Some Like It Hot’.The appreciation was mutual - Lemmon said that, having heard the story outlined by Wilder, he signed before it had been written.Whilst Lemmon’s Oscar nomina­tion was scant recognition for his tremendous performance, he knew on a personal level the importance of the work when he said in 1960 that ‘The Apartment’ was ‘probably the best picture I’ll ever make’. I think that he was right, which is saying something, considering his over­all body of work. Despite his satisfaction with the film, just a year later, he told The Daily Mail’s Cecil Wilson that he was unhappy with his own performance: ‘All along I seemed to be making no impact. I felt I had found the heart of the character, but I was certain I would come out unhistrionic – dull, in fact.’ The public disagreed.Wilder’s two Oscars for Best Director and (shared with Diamond) for best screenplay con­ferred on the film the general acclaim that it so richly deserved.

The plaudits for ‘The Apartment’ continue to this day.A new print was put on release in 2002 and a new generation discovered it. It is reg­ularly cited as not only a perfect example of Wilder and Lemmon’s ge­nius but simply as one of the finest films of its type - ever.Whilst awards and honours continue, it is perhaps more relevant to note some of the reactions of the time - a Daily Mirror review of July 1960 described it as a ‘lively, wisecracking comedy adorned by many moving moments’ and its reviewer ‘laughed a lot’ but ‘was touched even more’.

Lemmon himself was constantly striving to marry comedy and dra­ma and, in this regard, he appreciated the brilliance of writers of the skill of Wilder and Diamond. He said that ‘it’s hard enough to write a good drama, it’s much harder to write a good comedy and it’s hardest of all to write a drama with comedy.Which is what life is’.‘The Apart­ment’ is indeed life eloquently, gracefully and emotionally portrayed. It is simply the best film that I have ever seen.

It is extraordinary to think that many of ‘The Apartment’s’ core val­ues and ambitions were shared - if never realised - in Lemmon’s fi rst feature film back in 1954.‘It Should Happen ToYou’ was probably seen as a vehicle for Judy Holliday, who indeed is the central presence of the film but, with a screenplay by Garson Kanin and direction by George Cukor, this was clearly never going to be a shallow run-out for the leading lady. In the same way that ‘The Apartment’s core theme has not dated, the idea that a wannabe ‘nobody’ could buy themselves notoriety resonates today - probably even more so in a world of real­ity TV and makeover programmes.

The billing of ‘Introducing Jack Lemmon’ hints at Columbia’s con­fidence in their new find. Max Arnow, the Studio’s Head of Talent, had noticed Lemmon in one of his many TV appearances and had marked the young Lemmon as having ‘a strong personality’ and being ‘hand­some but not the typical romantic image’.Arnow forwarded a copy of the performance to Studio Head Harry Cohn and he in turn passed one to George Cukor who was looking for the male lead.The story behind Lemmon’s first Hollywood contract suggests that his TV ca­reer was going just fine and that he was no wannabe desperate for a chance. His demands (although, knowing Lemmon, it seems unlikely that that they were expressed as such) were a non-exclusive contract with a seven-year term, a minimum of two films per year and the freedom to carry on doing TV and theatrical work.The man had front

– and it worked because Columbia, subject to a screen test, which he breezed through, said yes.

I think it significant that Lemmon’s first Hollywood appearance was a film that might look at first glance to be a lightweight but actually has some real edge. It was the shape of things to come.Whilst understand­ably softer in tone than the more cynical ‘The Apartment’ (and later Wilder’s remake of ‘The Front Page’), the film once again makes valu­able points about the cult of celebrity and Lemmon’s portrayal of Pete Sheppard personifi es the film’s theme of questioning its value.

Watching the film now, it is easy to see the Lemmon trademarks

- both in the casting and the performance – but it’s only possible to guess what it was that the audiences of the mid 50s made of it. It is hard nowadays to consider it satire but maybe that says more about the harshness that we now associate with the genre than the impact of this film in its own right. Critics of the time however viewed it as just that and accepted that its targets were worthy of attack.Whether or not any serious and lasting impression was made in this regard is open to question - it remains a funny film in which the ‘dizzy blonde’ Holliday character takes centre stage and may well be remembered largely for that reason.

It maybe ironic that Lemmon found his big break in ‘It Should Hap­pen ToYou’ at least in part because of roles he was taking on (in those days live) television that were beginning to be noticed. Certainly the increasing impact of commercial TV is one of the targets at which Kanin and Cukor are aiming. Judy Holliday’s portrayal of Gladys Glover presents a woman transfixed like a rabbit in the headlights of a car - she wants to be someone but she’s not sure how to be so. Right now, the media is full of people who feel the same way although now they have an army of self-serving ‘advisors’ keen to make money not only from the results of grooming - but from the process itself!

Gladys decides to spend all of her savings on a huge billboard pro­claiming her arrival. She is surrounded by people falling for, or manipu­lating, the spell of which she is a victim. Sheppard is the one to ques­tion why. Lemmon’s performance is excellent – he rages and pouts but it is always clear that he is drawn towards Gladys regardless of the banality of her ambition. He does not lecture but his character brings into focus the heart of the film – the importance of self worth in its own right beyond celebrity

In these days of remakes in which Hollywood seems capable only of regurgitating 70s TV series, it seems that this is one that might actu­ally have its time.Whether or not there are equivalent actors of the stature of Holliday and Lemmon (and, to a lesser extent, Peter Lawford in the role of the scheming advertising man) is open to question but there is undoubtedly an audience that would relate to its message.

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