The party scene where Jack Lemmon's Harvey Fairchild goes off on everyone (including family members) at a big Malibu beach party seems inspired by Bette Davis going off on everyone at her party in "All About Eve", except in his case, his anger is at himself, not everyone around him. He's the epitome of the unhappy man who no matter how rich or fulfilled is going to find misery, and for his 60th birthday, he's quite miserable.
For long suffering wife, singer Julie Andrews, she's going through her own crisis and with dignity hides her frustration. She might have cancer and isn't going to spill the news until she knows for sure. She's smiling through invisible tears, and wants nothing more than to comfort husband Lemmon in anticipation of needing comfort from him. But how do you deal with someone so self centered and consumed with death? As a 60 year old man, I don't see life through eyes like his, even though I can often find the silliness in the most ridiculous of life's most serious issues.
The plethora of friends and family intruding on a self centered man's possible breakdown is darkly comedic and not for everyone. Sally Kellerman as usual is a delight as the flamboyant neighbor, and I wish there was more of her. Robert Loggia is very funny as the priest who drinks his way through others confessions. Theodore Wilson, as the loveable family chef, is the heart and soul of this house.
The younger actors, all relatives of Jack's, Julie's and director Blake Edwards are simply the ensemble. Today we complain that the rich don't understand the problems of others, but here, it's obvious that the problems of the rich are problems that any sensible person would go out of their way to avoid. I saw this in the theater as a young man and nearly 40 years later find more of it relevant even though it is still flawed and a bit self indulgent. When I look at Lemmon's 60 years on earth with misery and compare it to my imperfect but happier one, what else can I say but, "That's life!"
For long suffering wife, singer Julie Andrews, she's going through her own crisis and with dignity hides her frustration. She might have cancer and isn't going to spill the news until she knows for sure. She's smiling through invisible tears, and wants nothing more than to comfort husband Lemmon in anticipation of needing comfort from him. But how do you deal with someone so self centered and consumed with death? As a 60 year old man, I don't see life through eyes like his, even though I can often find the silliness in the most ridiculous of life's most serious issues.
The plethora of friends and family intruding on a self centered man's possible breakdown is darkly comedic and not for everyone. Sally Kellerman as usual is a delight as the flamboyant neighbor, and I wish there was more of her. Robert Loggia is very funny as the priest who drinks his way through others confessions. Theodore Wilson, as the loveable family chef, is the heart and soul of this house.
The younger actors, all relatives of Jack's, Julie's and director Blake Edwards are simply the ensemble. Today we complain that the rich don't understand the problems of others, but here, it's obvious that the problems of the rich are problems that any sensible person would go out of their way to avoid. I saw this in the theater as a young man and nearly 40 years later find more of it relevant even though it is still flawed and a bit self indulgent. When I look at Lemmon's 60 years on earth with misery and compare it to my imperfect but happier one, what else can I say but, "That's life!"