I'd always had Blake Edwards down as a poor man's Billy Wilder. Then he does this. Bloody hell.
After filming, Edwards and Jack Lemmon sat down to dinner and wondered how many drinks they'd already had. Two big drinkers, fresh off a film about alcoholism. Edwards later stopped drinking.
The early laughs matter, because I liked these two before the bottle got to them. Lemmon is dangerously charming, and I can see why Lee Remick's Kirsten joins the party. I reckon Joe encourages her drinking to reassure himself: a drinking partner makes his own habit easier to excuse.
The disease of alcoholism turns that companionship into mutual enabling. Watching them help each other get worse is painfully familiar. Remick is every bit his equal, and her desperation is horribly human.
The trouble is, the script keeps tallying Joe's lost jobs, like someone handing me the minutes of his decline. I'd rather see more of the damage unfold.
I came for Lemmon and left needing a minute.