Give Walter Matthau a script by Neil Simon, and the results were often golden. But give Matthau three Simon scripts, in the form of this adaptation of three one-act plays set in a room at Manhattan's Plaza Hotel and starring Matthau in widely different roles, and all you get is a harsh clanging sound.
Two problems dog the movie. One is the opening act. Here Matthau plays a preoccupied businessman coldly dismissive of his anxious, aging wife Karen (Maureen Stapleton). It represents a stab at serious drama by Simon, with a few unfunny one-liners thrown in to offer some wan chuckles. Matthau's character barks about the roast beef having too much fat. Stapleton, meanwhile, is all feral desperation, eyes bulging and eager to please, practically begging her husband for a moment's attention as she worries about the state of their marriage.
"I like to put your eyedrops in," she says at one point in their labored to-and-fro. "It's the only time lately you look at me."
The "can-this-marriage-be-saved" storyline doesn't work, because we don't care about him and can only pity her, especially as it develops and he drops a bomb on her you see coming five minutes in. "I'm attached to you!" she wails. Stapleton is a chore to watch here, and director Arthur Hiller is no help as he magnifies her every overplayed emotion with long, tight close-ups.
After that, you get the lighter pieces, but like Moonspinner's review here notes, you aren't really in the mood to enjoy them after that opening act from hell. This brings up the second problem: Simon's not much funnier here when he's trying to be.
Story #2 has Matthau playing a Hollywood producer picking up an old flame from Tenafly, played by Barbara Harris. Harris is a good comic actor and plays her part well here, but there's nothing much to this story, unless it's the novelty of Matthau in a blond wig. Early on we see the producer going through his little black book, with the idea that Harris's character is just another time-filler to him. But later, he seems to get serious, telling her he sleeps on a 360-degree bed but that 180 degrees of it are empty. Simon never bothers to explain what the character really thinks.
She, meanwhile, just gets drunk, which is where much of the comedy comes, along with her curiosity about his show-business life. "Do you know Frank Sinatra?" she asks. The segment peters out after many show-biz gag lines and maybe one or two light chortles.
The final tale puts Matthau in a gray wig and tails as the father of a bride who won't come out of her bathroom to get married in the Plaza Hotel ballroom. He worries about the cost of everything: "There's 200 dollars of cocktail frankfurters getting cold downstairs."
Mother-of-the-bride Lee Grant begs her daughter to think of the social shame of a lockaway bride. "Come out of the bathroom now," she pleads. "If you want, I'll have it annulled next week."
Contrived as it is, and it's very much so with Matthau taking a walk on a ledge to try climbing through the bathroom window and battling pigeons instead, this is the one sequence with any hard laughs or energy to it, and the only time Matthau seems engaged. Simon doesn't know what to do with the situation, though, and it shows, with a left-field resolution that feels like a shrug.
I guess the point of the picture, beyond maximizing the use of a single cheap set, has something to do with taking in the dicey state of man-woman relations circa 1971. Simon apparently didn't change the script much from the stage play, a hit on Broadway, but what might have seemed novel and engaging in live theater comes off claustrophobic and cold here. The stories lurch from melodrama to contrived sitcom humor, while Matthau's usual irascible energy is lost under an uncharacteristic absence of charisma. The end result is a movie that fails to deliver much of anything, and takes too long doing it.
Two problems dog the movie. One is the opening act. Here Matthau plays a preoccupied businessman coldly dismissive of his anxious, aging wife Karen (Maureen Stapleton). It represents a stab at serious drama by Simon, with a few unfunny one-liners thrown in to offer some wan chuckles. Matthau's character barks about the roast beef having too much fat. Stapleton, meanwhile, is all feral desperation, eyes bulging and eager to please, practically begging her husband for a moment's attention as she worries about the state of their marriage.
"I like to put your eyedrops in," she says at one point in their labored to-and-fro. "It's the only time lately you look at me."
The "can-this-marriage-be-saved" storyline doesn't work, because we don't care about him and can only pity her, especially as it develops and he drops a bomb on her you see coming five minutes in. "I'm attached to you!" she wails. Stapleton is a chore to watch here, and director Arthur Hiller is no help as he magnifies her every overplayed emotion with long, tight close-ups.
After that, you get the lighter pieces, but like Moonspinner's review here notes, you aren't really in the mood to enjoy them after that opening act from hell. This brings up the second problem: Simon's not much funnier here when he's trying to be.
Story #2 has Matthau playing a Hollywood producer picking up an old flame from Tenafly, played by Barbara Harris. Harris is a good comic actor and plays her part well here, but there's nothing much to this story, unless it's the novelty of Matthau in a blond wig. Early on we see the producer going through his little black book, with the idea that Harris's character is just another time-filler to him. But later, he seems to get serious, telling her he sleeps on a 360-degree bed but that 180 degrees of it are empty. Simon never bothers to explain what the character really thinks.
She, meanwhile, just gets drunk, which is where much of the comedy comes, along with her curiosity about his show-business life. "Do you know Frank Sinatra?" she asks. The segment peters out after many show-biz gag lines and maybe one or two light chortles.
The final tale puts Matthau in a gray wig and tails as the father of a bride who won't come out of her bathroom to get married in the Plaza Hotel ballroom. He worries about the cost of everything: "There's 200 dollars of cocktail frankfurters getting cold downstairs."
Mother-of-the-bride Lee Grant begs her daughter to think of the social shame of a lockaway bride. "Come out of the bathroom now," she pleads. "If you want, I'll have it annulled next week."
Contrived as it is, and it's very much so with Matthau taking a walk on a ledge to try climbing through the bathroom window and battling pigeons instead, this is the one sequence with any hard laughs or energy to it, and the only time Matthau seems engaged. Simon doesn't know what to do with the situation, though, and it shows, with a left-field resolution that feels like a shrug.
I guess the point of the picture, beyond maximizing the use of a single cheap set, has something to do with taking in the dicey state of man-woman relations circa 1971. Simon apparently didn't change the script much from the stage play, a hit on Broadway, but what might have seemed novel and engaging in live theater comes off claustrophobic and cold here. The stories lurch from melodrama to contrived sitcom humor, while Matthau's usual irascible energy is lost under an uncharacteristic absence of charisma. The end result is a movie that fails to deliver much of anything, and takes too long doing it.