"The Odd Couple" (1968)

A classic movie comedy, adapted from Neil Simon’s smash Tony-winning Broadway play, “The Odd Couple” is cinematic comfort food.  We might need some laughs and comfort now, and this is one of Hollywood’s most enjoyable films. 

“The Odd Couple” is a story that is familiar to generations, from its 1965 Broadway run, to the 1968 movie release, and from a 5-season TV sitcom to numerous regional productions and spinoffs.  I loved the film from the time I was an 11-year-old, enjoying it with my family at the Randhurst Theater in Mount Prospect, Illinois.  It’s still a go-to movie for me, to relax with and enjoy its many amusing moments.

There is some attempt at character development; but the point of the film is to milk the situation for laughs, which it does very well.  As I watched it again in the era of residing-in-place, it resonated in a different way.

Oscar Madison, a divorced baseball fan and sportswriter, offers to take in his friend, Felix Unger, as a roommate after Felix’ marriage ends. Oscar is a boisterous slob; Felix is a neat-freak hypochondriac.

That’s the simple framework for an escalating series of gags, where the humor arises naturally from the two characters at the opposite ends of, shall we say, good manners. The fun is in watching their relationship slowly fall apart in a comedic way.

Oscar’s apartment is like a third character in the film.  The sprawling, 8-room flat is a triumph of set decoration, especially in the untidy, disheveled opening scenes.

There’s the smoke-filled poker game featuring unidentifiable sandwiches and warm soda from a broken refrigerator.  There’s the fully decorated, sadly neglected Christmas tree (it’s summer, and the room is sweltering).  There’s the dart board on the far wall, with errant darts stuck in a nearby lampshade.  There are other small details that tell us about Oscar, and they’re fun to discover with each viewing.

When Felix turns up, despondent from the end of his marriage, Oscar and his poker pals rally around him, and Oscar extends his hospitality. That’s when Felix’ true colors emerge with a vengeance, cleaning the place beyond recognition, obsessing about menus and cooking utensils, and disinfecting everything; while Oscar tries to accommodate Felix, and nearly loses his mind.

Walter Matthau originated the role of Oscar on Broadway.  I still think it’s his best performance, in a part that is perfectly suited to his brand of brassy, unconventional New York-style humor.   Oscar would be a nightmare as a roommate to be sure, with his feet on the coffee table, a mess in the kitchen, and the odors and the clutter everywhere.  But Matthau (with help from screenwriter Neil Simon) infuses Oscar with a “boys will be boys” quality that was (and still is) culturally acceptable.  Oscar’s idea of social distancing would be to take a good lead off of first base.

Jack Lemmon had been a skilled film comedian for over a decade when he landed the role of Felix. Here he successfully balances Felix’ irritating traits with perfect comic timing.  Simon created Felix as less of a character than a collection of quirks and annoying behavior.  Lemmon overcomes this with a watchable performance filled with comic moments:  clearing his sinuses in a hilarious explosion of “moose calls”;  calling Oscar at Shea Stadium while Oscar misses a Mets triple play; and ruining a date with the Pigeon sisters, two lively neighbors from their building, over a burnt meatloaf.  If Felix were an actual person living in New York today, he would not wear a mask; he would wear a Hazmat suit.

Many of the gags are the result of expert direction (Gene Saks) and editing (Frank Bracht).  My favorite is a bit involving a vacuum cleaner cord. It is so good that we laugh at the sound of the aftermath, without even seeing it.

Even though Felix makes the apartment look fabulous, and helps Oscar save money by cooking meals at home, Oscar is like a caged animal.  Eventually, the arrangement comes to a boiling point.

While Lemmon skillfully makes us appreciate Felix, a character that becomes funnier while less likeable as the film progresses, Matthau’s Oscar emerges as more sympathetic.  Or maybe that’s just an intrusion from the 60s, in which nagging housewives were, for better or worse, targets of scornful laughter in comedies. Felix is the ultimate nagging housewife, and Oscar is the henpecked but lovable slob. 

Maybe we laugh at Oscar and Felix and their predicament because we recognize little bits of each of them within ourselves—or at least in some of our friends!  Mismatched couples and roommates are a good source of comedy.  If Felix and Oscar were forced to live together under these circumstances, their apartment would probably have spotless floors and linguine-encrusted walls.

But sometimes the differences, even little habits and foibles, can loom large as a barrier to getting along with someone we live with.  In so many places with stay-at-home orders, people are obliged to coexist in their living space.  Most don’t even have nearly the amount of space that Oscar’s 8-room apartment provides.  I thought of the difficulty of that situation, and the amount of effort it would take to survive it, as I watched “The Odd Couple” this week.  For some, the inability to go anywhere for a needed escape and reboot from their loved ones can strain even strong relationships.

Perhaps getting lost in “The Odd Couple” can help provide a needed release, by laughing at an extreme case of roommate incompatibility!