Essa Coisa, o Amor

It's weird to watch a movie from the 1960s with 21st century lense. The comedy doesn't flow and at times you're not sure if what your watching is funny or bad writing.

Relaxing the mind a bit and letting go of the 21st century standards of speed we have for comedy, you may find the experience more enjoyable. A few chuckles here and there, even if just for how ludacris it must've been for these two humans to say these lines to each other, or participate in the physical stunts

Also, a good Harrison Ford catch from his early career. (He plays the angry driver in the white convertible that Ellen hits with her car.)

I have to say the same thing about this film that I said about "The Happening" (from the same year, coincidentally), and that's that you almost have to hate it BITTERLY not to like it A LITTLE. I agree about a lot of the slapstick being out of place (though not even all of THAT). I think there's at least one good thing about Harry's "fits" (his hysterical blindness and deafness and so on) and that's seeing Peter Falk react to them in his usual low-key way. Maybe "Harry" WASN'T the best part for Jack Lemmon, I don't know, but Falk and Elaine May really made the most of their roles. And even Nina Wayne (the sister of Carol Wayne, I imagine), who had a much smaller part, makes the most of her comical "dumb blonde" role, without genuinely copying her sister. And of course, it has several great character actors - Eddie Mayehoff, Severn Darden (in a nearly silent role) and Paul Hartman (in a completely silent one). One of the best scenes has Harry reciting "Star Light, Star Bright" in an aggravated Jack Lemmon voice (which clashes with the poem completely, of course), and it's also the scene where Ellen wishes on the star by saying, "I wish I were a lesbian, that's what I wish. Then I wouldn't have these demeaning problems." Harry : You'd have other problems. Like picking up girls. Ellen : That's easy. You just have to be a liar and a hypocrite. Harry : It's not as easy as that. Do you know what a haircut costs these days? Again, on the one hand, I find the complaints about LUV hard to disagree with, and on the other hand, I find the movie impossible not to like a whole lot.

Harry Berlin (the one and only Jack Lemmon) is taken home by his college pal, Milt (the inimitable Peter Falk) to meet his wife (comedienne Elaine May, who was too rarely seen). But what are Milt's ulterior motives? In New York everything is on quid pro quo basis.

I love wackiness. I love the bizarre. I love movies that are weird with characters who are off the wall (in a nice way) and who spout lines that are so deliciously odd they might've been beamed in from outer space. So why don't I love "Luv"?

Lemmon's character grows so increasingly peculiar and unpleasant one wonders how he ever got voted "Most Likely to Succeed." With the internal dating it would've been in the late 1940s to 1950. After World War II, with serious-minded young draftees returning from having their lives disrupted by Hitler? He'd have just missed the war but I can't see him achieving anything.

In the years before I graduated high school a fellow at my prospective University ran as student body president with a bag over his head. Calling himself "The Unknown Candidate" his sole platform was abolishing student government as a sham. He won in a landslide. That was in the bizarro 1970s. I can't envision a man with this many hagups (many seemingly related to his childhood) being thought likely to succeed by anyone. He should have a net thrown over him. Affectations that work on the stage often are dumped for movies as being downright dumb. Why not this time?

I never saw the play, but apparently Alan Arkin was Harry. They should've used him. He might've brought insights Lemmon missed. And it maybe feel some sort of early "In-Laws" vibe between Arkin and Falk. Alas.

Peter Falk, on the other hand, is great. Weird, yes, but with the sort of weirdness we've come to expect from his characters. He's the best thing in the picture.

Frankly, all the characters are too unpleasant (as in the Monty-Pythonesque one-upsmanship they pull about who had it harder growing up: how did such unstable people get into college at all in the post World War II era)?

Then there are the shots of New York. I'm a country boy, born and bred. New York means nothing to me. If I hadn't had friends I trust who had been there I might not even believe in the place. The shots of Niagara Falls are impressive, though.

I'd be lying if I said "Luv" didn't have good ideas and some really great lines. I laughed a few times. But--!

I love black olives. I know a guy who can't stand them. It's a matter of taste. And I find "Luv" distasteful.

...and so is "Luv". What might've been a mod, madcap romantic comedy is just an exercise in shouting (you'll never forget that Jack Lemmon plays "Harry"--it's all you hear from the other performers). A suicidal man is brought down from a bridge-railing by an old school friend who has other plans for the guy: fix him up with his unhappy wife so he can marry a fitness enthusiast. The story certainly had satiric possibilities, few of which are realized. One is tempted to put the blame for this mess on Lemmon (who does some uncharacteristically sloppy slapstick here), but Clive Donner's direction should bear the brunt of it--he has no clue how to present this material. Based on the play, "Luv" has bright opening moments but soon sinks into theatrical clichés, the kind that creak and wheeze with age. Worse, it's a visual insult, with tatty color photography that only serves to expose the cheap production. What a shame! Lemmon and Peter Falk (so good together in the earlier "The Great Race") make no music together, and Elaine May struggles for dignity. I struggled through "Luv" and laughed maybe three times. *1/2 from ****

Way before Woody Allen laid claim to the same people and the same territory, this 1967 film based on a 1964 play by Murray Schisgal, directed on Broadway by the young Mike Nichols (who had been Elaine May's partner in Chicago) may be the first Hollywood film ever to feature a group of highly neurotic, overly articulate, and –-although never named as such —apparently middle-class Jewish urban characters. Unfortunately, as funny and satirical as the film is at times, opening it up to the real world with naturalistic settings did not help support its weak story structure. When push comes to shove, the movie is no more than a series of sketches, the sort that Nichols & May did so brilliantly on records and stage. Irishman Jack Lemmon seems miscast; he does his best, however, to sustain the frenetic shtick, mugging outrageously at times. On the plus side, the brilliant and then beautiful Elaine May (future director and writer of many a film flop) may be the greatest crazy Jewish American Princess ever portrayed on film. Try as she might, Woody Allen's second wife, Louise Lasser, understudy in the original Broadway production, could never quite match Elaine May when it came to sheer J. A. P. nuttiness.