The Apartment

The Apartment is basically romantic comedy, a "nice guy wins in the end" picture, but an unusual one. Darker-than-usual (should I say more-honest-than-usual?) themes of selfishness, unfeeling manipulation and power abuse run throughout it, particularly for a time period where Hollywood was still feeling the influence of Ayn Rand's "Screen Guide For Americans".

Jack Lemmon is C.C. Baxter, corporate flunky who is so ridiculously eager-to-please that he loans out his apartment to the upper executives at his work nearly every night, so that they can have flings with their assortment of mistresses. They come to so take him for granted that one even calls up at midnight, demanding that he vacate the place immediately (under threat of withholding a promotion). Baxter always puts his head down, goes outside and naps on park benches in the cold, and eventually he gets the desired promotion and an upstairs office of his own. The head of personell at his office soon horns in on the action, however, and the situation comes to a head when Baxter finds out that the elevator girl who he is sweet on (played by a young and cute Shirley MacLaine) is the object of the married man's amorous romps.



The really interesting thing about this movie is the juxtaposition of the emotional brutality of the themes versus the formulaic, 1950s Hollywood way in which it is presented (complete with generic string-filled "Nick At Nite Orchestra" soundtrack). In different hands, this could have been a deeply disturbing movie on many levels, and in the hands of a modern director it likely would have been. Baxter's willingness to compromise himself for the illicit dalliances of his bosses is taken to unbelievable levels, but it's all played as a farce - when one of his managers pushes his way into the apartment unexpectedly declaring "I made a four o'clock reservation!", or when Baxter is kicked out onto the streets at midnight to roam like a homeless beggar, you half-expect to hear the "wah wah wah waaah" trumpet sound of an old Looney Tunes cartoon. When he inadvertently reveals to the elevator girl that he knows her address because he pulled her personell file, adding that he knows "her social security number, how many brothers and sisters she has and that she had the mumps and measles in third grade", she takes in in stride as a harmless bit of cute pathos, whereas in 2008 such a declaration would have more likely led to a knee in the balls and a faceful of mace (and possibly a breach of privacy lawsuit against the company and a restraining order to go with it). You just can't believe how much shit Baxter continues to take, and how he keeps playing the loyal, eternally submissive company man regardless of what turns the story takes - what kind of a man gives permission to someone to make love to the woman he has feelings for in his own bed, while he waits outside like a dog in the cold?



Instead of steering into messy and challenging complexities, however, the film keeps its characters fairly simple. Lemmon's character is the underdog who you know will pull through in the end, MacLaine's character is the confused kid who's been charmed by the powerful sleazeball and just needs time to come around, and Baxter's boss is the seemingly emotionless user who frankly admits that the girl is just a plaything to him and he has no real intention of leaving his wife for her. What's surprising is that, for a film that runs over two hours long, the relationship between Lemmon and MacLaine really doesn't get adequate development - it jumps straight from what seems to be a flirty crush to full-blown love just a little too fast to be fully believable. Also, Lemmon shows absolutely no signs of growing a backbone until the final ten minutes, when the plot requires him to do so for the requisite happy ending.



Grow a backbone he ultimately does, though, as does MacLaine's character overcomes "getting took and knowing that she's getting took, and doing it anyway", to paraphrase the movie. It thus ends with a surprising (for the era) challenge to the unquestioned power of the capitalist masters, and tribute to being unafraid to face the unknown without being a part of the safe, socially accepted business machine. For that reason alone I think it's a worthwhile picture, but Lemmon's high-strung goofiness is nicely played, MacLaine is a pleasure to watch as well, and Fred MacMurray as the dark side of the clean-cut, pipe-chomping stereotypical 1950s businessman is worth a look on his own.