There have been greater actors. Performers with more range, intensity or commitment to the craft. He was no Day-Lewis, De Niro or Brando, since method acting would have been anathema to a man with his particular set of skills. In his own words, he was a “ham” and yet Jack Lemmon, who was born 100 years ago this week, combined warmth and sadness in a way that has never been bettered in the annals of cinema.
Not for nothing was he a firm favourite of Neil Simon, Billy Wilder and countless moviegoers from the 1950s onwards. He was and is the yardstick by which every silver screen everyman must be judged and, invariably, found wanting.
There were forerunners. Lemmon undoubtedly channelled some of James Stewart’s folksy charm but there was something else at play, a kind of underlying sadness that left viewers perpetually on the verge of laughter and tears, much like the characters he portrayed. In the nascent days of comedy-drama as a genre, Lemmon was the go-to-guy and he became one of Hollywood’s most beloved stars in movies that now feel closer to the spirit of today’s independent cinema than commercial hits. And yet his films were generally critical and commercial successes aided in no small part by his invaluable contributions.
Lemmon was born in a lift on 8th February 1925 and he told the story, typically, with that trademark combination of humour and pathos. His mother had been playing cards and ignored the labour pains too long and thus he was born “two months premature, with a testicle that refused to drop and acute jaundice.”
Jack Lemmon, Wikipedia.
The latter condition prompted the nurse to comment, “My, look at the yellow Lemmon.” A great line, apocryphal or otherwise, but hiding a darker truth. Lemmon’s mother was traumatised enough by the experience to decide against having any other children.
The writers that utilised him best understood the contrasting faces of the dramatic masks. Comedy and tragedy are intrinsically combined, a fact Jews like Wilder and Simon understood better than anyone. In the former’s magnum opus, The Apartment, Lemmon plays C.C. Baxter, an insurance clerk in love with the elevator operator (unaware she is having an affair with the boss).
The performance at the film’s centre is extraordinary in its ordinariness as we watch Baxter navigate the stuff of life: making endless phone calls, waiting for dinner to heat up in the microwave and flicking between channels on the television. Loneliness is one of the hardest things for art to depict and yet Wilder and Lemmon not only managed it but made audiences laugh and cry in the process. Baxter is alone but craving love much like the only child who portrayed him.
Darren Richman
The actor’s parents loved him dearly but not each other. Lemmon began attempting to entertain his folks in the belief that keeping them happy would help them mend their relationship. Ultimately, they would end up sleeping in separate bedrooms and the sadness behind Lemmon’s eyes would belie the smile, on screen and off.
That smile and those eyes helped define a movie star in a different mould to those who’d come before. He might have seemed handsome when cast alongside his great friend Walter Matthau on ten separate occasions but Lemmon was no Cary Grant. His voice, too, had a nasal quality quite out of keeping with the glamorous stars of Hollywood’s golden age.
Walter Matthau (left) with Jack Lemmon in The Odd Couple. Pic: IMDB
He seemed to embody an anxious period during the 1960s and 1970s, most memorably in Simon’s The Odd Couple. There was a lost innocence about the era and this new type of star, an alcoholic who was universally adored, reflected the times perfectly. In his own words, “It’s hard enough to write a good drama, it’s much harder to write a good comedy, and it’s hardest of all to write a drama with comedy. Which is what life is.”
Lemmon changed with the times and gave one of his most acclaimed performances in David Mamet’s Glengarry Glenn Ross in 1992 as a salesman so desperate he made Willy Loman seem positively relaxed. The performance was instantly iconic enough to be parodied on The Simpsons and Gil Gunderson remains a part of the animated sitcom 24 years after the death of the inspiration for the character.
That death came in June 2001 at the age of 76. His gravestone reads like the title screen from a film with the simple words, “JACK LEMMON in”. He made us laugh and cry right to the end, and beyond.
