Years ago, my husband and I were talking about how most of his co-workers aren’t very knowledgable when it comes to retro pop culture, especially movies and music. Seriously, classic films start in the 80s and 90s for this group. Now, to be completely fair, they’re scientists. And I’m a maladjusted weirdo, with Fredric March coasters, framed portraits of Ronald Colman, and a Corky St. Clair t-shirt that says “Smack ‘Em.” I don’t expect them to know about obscure 1940s war movies or the impressively long career of character actor William Demarest. I do expect them, and anyone else who isn’t living under a rock, to at least recognize some of the big names. You know, the Cary Grants and Katharine Hepburns and Humphrey Bogarts of old Hollywood. Their images are the definition of iconic, and they’ve been on everything from stamps to velvet paintings. Even Clark Gable has posthumously graced the back of an airbrushed, bedazzled jean jacket or two. (It’s a “Windy” thing. IYKYK.) So, when my husband told me he had a nice, long, science-free conversation with his co-workers, I was very interested to hear about their interests. Surely at least one of them would be a movie nut like me. And we could go for coffee and have movie nerd talk and meet up for repertory screenings of Pre-codes and Kurosawa films.
Yeah, right.
He told me the conversation was all over the place, and somehow found its way to the Kentucky Derby, which then led to a discussion about Seabiscuit, and naturally progressed into commentary about 1920s and 1930s fashion. One co-worker said, “The clothing back then was just awful! It was baggy and very unflattering!” My husband, bless him, has long been indoctrinated into my weird old Hollywood world, so he knew better. He politely corrected his co-worker, informing them that the fashion from that era wasn’t like a flapper or gangster costume from Spirit Halloween. As an example, he mentioned the costumes in Billy Wilder’s Some Like it Hot (1959), a film he was sure they were familiar with and one that features authentic Prohibition-era clothing. He continued, “And Orry-Kelly had to sew those dresses right onto Marilyn.”
Crickets. Wide-eyed, blank stares all around. I was told the conversation went a little something like this:
“Some Like It… What?”
“You know, Some Like it Hot with Tony Curtis…”
[Silence]
“…Marilyn Monroe?”
[Some nods, but still confusion]
“Well, you definitely know Jack Lemmon, right?!?”
[More Silence]
They had never heard of Jack Lemmon! He could’ve been standing right in front of them and they would’ve asked, “Whose grandpa?”
My husband recalled his pop culture communication breakdown to me with much frustration. In the past, I’ve warned him about making references to classic film to the unsuspecting public. “Honey, quit dropping Guy Kibbee’s name. No one knows who the hell you’re talking about.” Or “Hey, no one knows you’re impersonating a singing Dick Powell. Let’s keep that one at home.” That said, it’s not like Some Like it Hot is an obscure deep cut like Footlight Parade or Test Pilot. It typically ranks high on mainstream “best of” lists. It’s got Tony Curtis! You know, nepo baby Jamie Lee’s dad! And it stars Marilyn Monroe, for chrissakes, who is arguably the most recognizable person ever. She even has a line of cheap lingerie at your local TJ Maxx!
And then there’s Jack Lemmon, the film’s other star. Here is a man who successfully navigated the Hollywood shitshow for decades, giving impressive performances along the way. If people today are unfamiliar with Lemmon’s early films, that’s fine by me. I get it. Films made before the 1980s that aren’t The Godfather or The Wizard of Oz or Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and especially ones in black & white, are generally considered to be “boring” or “unfunny.” That couldn’t be further from the truth, of course, but I know it’s a pretty big ask for modern audiences. The world of classic movies can be quite overwhelming and us fans can be a bit enthusiastic. It’s hard for a modern audience to dive into a world that feels outdated, inaccessible, and snooty. And let’s be honest here: it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Fine! But to be an adult and have never heard of Jack Lemmon? Especially considering his popular late career performances in Glengarry Glen Ross, My Fellow Americans, and the Grumpy Old Men films. It’s mind-boggling, to say the least.
I don’t know, maybe I’m overreacting. I have been known to do that on occasion. Go ahead, ask my family. I just adore Jack Lemmon, ok? And without sounding too unstable, I think knowing of Jack Lemmon and his movies has made me a better person. Or a more complete person. I’m not enlightened or anything, but I’m fucking happy! I just can’t imagine a world without C.C. Baxter in The Apartment; or Ensign Pulver in Mister Roberts; or his silly bongo-playing warlock in Bell, Book, and Candle; or the adorable, lovestruck Pete Sheppard in It Should Happen to You; or Felix Unger clearing his nasal passages in The Odd Couple. Lemmon brought something unique to every role, giving even the most drab of characters a heart, even if that heart would find itself in the wrong place from time to time.
Throughout his career, Jack Lemmon lived for the chance to share his acting talents, and it clearly shows in every performance. For all of his personal struggles, and there were many, including his long battle with alcoholism, Lemmon remained disciplined in his work. The story goes that before every take, Lemmon would say, “It’s magic time.” It’s not uncommon for actors to have little rituals and superstitions when preparing for a scene, whether on the stage or in front of the camera. But I think Lemmon’s is so endearing. The camera captured Lemmon’s own incredible magic, with each performance preserved in glorious celluloid for us to immerse ourselves in whenever we want. Yeah, he’s long gone, but his performances are still here. How special is that?
There’s a wonderful feeling I get when I see Jack Lemmon on the screen. It’s difficult to describe, but I’m going to try: It’s like a beautiful, gut-wrenching homesickness, or that feeling of uneasy and addictive lovesickness. Watching him on the screen puts a lump in my throat, and all my senses are flooded with the most bittersweet thoughts and memories. Dammit, he just makes me misty.
My husband’s co-workers are probably still scratching their heads about this Jack Lemmon person, and I guess I just have to come to terms with that. While I’m not always a positive person, I have chosen to find the silver lining here: their blissful ignorance has reminded me how much I love Jack Lemmon and his films. And maybe it has reminded you, too.
Nice tribute to a treasure. The most humble artist I ever met.