Taking on the takers, by getting took – A review of The Apartment, Billy Wilder, 1960

This multi-faceted comedy is a great watch. Directed by a champion of Golden Age filmmaking, Billy Wilder, a melancholic fog provides the underlay to this comedic structure, confronting the topics of extra-marital affairs, suicide and manipulation.

C.C Baxter, played by Jack Lemmon is a straight-laced, motivated office worker, who in his ambitious naiveté lets out his apartment to his superiors and their mistresses in exchange for a fast track promotion. He falls for the supremely charming elevator girl Fran, played by Shirley Maclaine who he learns is involved with his boss, Jeff (played by Fred MacMurray) who uses Baxter’s apartment to conduct their rendezvous.

Although Baxter appears to be a somewhat boring and a simply satisfied man, his bachelor pad is dressed with a reproduction of a Picasso on the wall, along with Marc Chagall and Piet Mondrian prints, suggesting the homeowner is a cultured and curious soul. 

The character of Fran is difficult to categorise. She plays ‘the other women’, but her profound narrative sets her far from it. When she lends Baxter her broken mirror to check out his new hat, he exclaims, ‘it’s broken’ to which Fran replies, ‘I know, I like it that way, it makes me look how I feel’. She is so incredibly hopeless and lacklustre at times, showcasing the developed feminine liberalism at the time. Realising that Jeff never intends to leave his wife and run off with her, she takes a lethal amount of pills. This portrayal subscribes to the notion of the hysterical woman – distraught over heartbreak -what else is there to live for? 

However uninspiring this is for female empowerment, she makes up for it in the end. All in all, it takes Baxter to grow a backbone and finally refuse his boss access to his apartment for Fran to wise up and run, ‘albeit hysterically’ to the man that’s loved her all along. The two characters guide each other to a more enlightened existence. Even though this bonding occurs during Baxter’s retelling of his own failed suicide attempt…

This is a poignant film, one worth rewatching to experience the melancholic joy that is The Apartment, 1960. 

See below for the essay version

This multi-faceted comedy is a great watch. It’s unique due to it’s casting of brilliant actors, playing seemingly insipid characters to comment on society, the workforce and feminism. Directed by a champion of Golden Age filmmaking, Billy Wilder, a melancholic fog provides the underlay to this comedic structure, confronting the topics of extra-marital affairs, suicide and manipulation.

C.C Baxter, played by Jack Lemmon is a straight-laced, motivated office worker, who in his ambitious naiveté lets out his apartment to his superiors and their mistresses in exchange for a fast track promotion. He falls for the supremely charming elevator girl Fran, played by Shirley Maclaine who he learns is involved with his bossJeff (played by Fred MacMurray) who uses Baxter’s apartment to conduct their rendezvous.

The notion of Baxter being an ‘everyman’ situated in a Hollywood blockbuster that earned him an Oscar nomination is somewhat ironic. The character couldn’t be more ordinary. He repeatedly allows these infidelic meetings to carry on in his apartment, ( that is ‘just right for a bachelor’ as Baxter states in the opening monologue), enabling his growing disillusioned reputation amongst his neighbours. This being said, it is as though this vapid, monotonous notion is also staged. In Baxter’s bachelor pad, one can see a very discreet Picasso on the wall, along with Marc Chagall and Piet Mondrian prints, suggesting the homeowner is cultured and a curious soul.

Baxter plays into this role of the uncaring, macho man weighed down by the prospect of marriage, when he asks his neighbour for some breakfast supplies for Mis Fran, the morning after she overdoses. When Mrs Dreyfuss accuses him of causing this heartbreak, he plays along explaining, ‘It’s just I mean, you take a girl out a couple of times a week, just for laughs and right away she thinks you’re getting serious, marriage wise’. He knows these types of men so well, as they surround him in society, he can reel off the shpeel when he needs to.

This multifaceted ‘comedy’ is a fan favourite to watch around Christmas time as Baxter’s realisation of his falls during the festive season where he finds himself in a bar sat next to Marge MacDougal, played by Hope Holiday. Here Baxter drinks his sorrows away, amongst, large, drunk Santa’s and jolly folk, muttering cynical, self-pitying slurs before doing what can only be described as a face-dance with Marge. This consists of their faces touching with the rest of their bodies unmoving – it’s really quite a moment. This bittersweet scene is why it has perhaps fits well for festive viewing.

The character of Fran is difficult to categorise. She plays the other women, but her profound narrative sets her far from it. When she lends Baxter her broken mirror to check out his new hat, he exclaims, ‘it’s broken’ to which Fran replies, ‘I know, I like it that way, it makes me look how I feel’. She is so incredibly hopeless and lacklustre at times in the film, showcasing the lack of feminine liberalism at the time. Strung along by a married man, ignoring the kind sweet Baxter. Realising that Jeff never intends to leave his wife and run off with her, she takes a lethal amount of pills. This portrayal subscribes to the notion of the hysterical woman – distraught over heartbreak -what else is there to live for? 

However uninspiring this is for female empowerment, she makes up for it in the end. All in all, it takes Baxter to grow a backbone and finally refuse his boss access to his apartment for Fran to wise up and run, ‘albeit hysterically’ to the man that’s loved her all along. The two characters guide each other to a more enlightened existence. Even though this bonding occurs during Baxter’s casual retelling of his suicide attempt.
When Baxter adoringly declares his love for Fran, she simply tells him to get on with the card game the two of them are playing. The unromantic retort displays sincerity and exonerates Fran of her past weak demeanour.  

Interestingly Wilder tackled female deception and infidelity in Double Indemnity sixteen years prior to The Apartment, in 1944. Considering this, it could be said this theme was prevalent in the 20th century due to the social expectations, including marrying well, instead of purely for love.

It’s quite humorous that both sexes appear rather vapid at times. Neither is superior in wisdom and knowledge. The women are shown to be hysterical airheads and the men to be sexually driven manipulators, or without a backbone. In a scene showcasing one of Baxter’s colleagues shmoozing his Monroe-esque mistress in a bar, Wilder uses this moment to throw a low blow referencing his despondence to Marilyn Monroe’s diva attitude, having worked with her on The Seven Year Itch, 1955 and Some Like It Hot, 1959. The Blonde doppelganger declares she’s getting lonely and inquires into who her suitor is talking to. It’s difficult to look upon Wilder, albeit fantastic in his expertise, rather under evolved in the equality area.

Wilder let Lemmon have free reign over the character as he praised the actor who could do no wrong, meanwhile, he grew frustrated with Maclaine’s adlibs and made her do an elevator scene over and over again due to one wrong word in her line. 

Maclaine, the brunette with the gamine haircut was actually the cool girl, in reality, hanging with the boys, you know…The Rat Pack? So Wilder did include the recurring activity of the two leading characters playing cards as the actress was doing so in real life with a lot cooler people than C.C Baxter. 

Wilder came from a screenwriting background in 1920’s German silent cinema. It’s possible to see his appreciation for Lemmon’s expressionistic acting. The charming scene in which Baxter strains spaghetti on a tennis racket and parodies Italian opera singing delightfully adds to Baxter’s mundane but satisfied demeanour. 

The attention to detail and wit on high-alert script -defeats Wilder’s possibly dodgy primitive identity politics. After all – it won Wilder 3 oscars: Best Picture, Best Screenplay, Best Director – the only person to achieve this up to that point. In all seriousness, this is a poignant film and one worth rewatching to experience the melancholic joy that is The Apartment, 1960.