It's a testament to Charles Grodin's abilities as a comedian/actor that Lenny Cantrow isn't the single most despicable character ever put to film. I mean, maybe he still is (the guy's a spineless, inconsiderate, self-centered jerk who never learns a single thing), but Grodin has this subdued, almost endearing awkwardness about him that makes Lenny's desperate insincerity more watchable than it should be.
I have to also credit Elaine May, though, for not letting this guy off the hook. In just about every major scene, she locks the camera down, John Cassavetes-style, and lets the drama play out in the most sweaty, uncomfortable, claustrophobic way possible. It's the kind of subtly agonizing presentation that smacks of both emotional intelligence and a creative point of view, and it ultimately makes for an damning depiction of male self-destruction.
Still, I'd be lying if I said that I didn't find the conflicts a bit monotonous, and the comedy only mildly funny. But I guess both of those qualms are slightly soothed by the presence of Eddie Albert, whose stern indignation largely balances much the queasiness at play. I especially love his barely-contained rage at the restaurant, as well as his baffled delivery of "There's no deceit in the cauliflower?"
Grade: B+
P.S. Holy shit, does this movie need a remaster. Every version I could find made me feel like I was watching a 480p YouTube video from 2006.
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