Word: lemmons
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There is nerve-and then again there is nerve. The kind they have lots of -too much of-in television is exhibited in its ripest form this week (NBC, Wednesday, 9 p.m. E.S.T.) by Jack Lemmon, starring in a remake of John Osborne's The Entertainer. Archie Rice, that talentless, foul-spirited denizen of show biz's low depths, is, of course, the creation and sole property of Laurence Olivier-perhaps the greatest performance in a nonclassic role by the man who is our age's prince of players. There is no hope of duplicating what...
...story has been reset on a West Coast amusement pier in order to accommodate the American accents of the star and his supporting players. Lemmon, who is nothing if not an earnest actor, works hard to be a total heel, destroying wife, children and finally his father (a beloved former star hauled out of retirement to save his son's awful act), not because he has any ambition left, but because the stage, however tacky it is, is the only arena in which he dares hope for survival. But the best Lemmon can manage in the role...
...going to boil in his own flop sweat. It was those memories-a performer's kinship acknowledged-that informed Olivier's work and, finally, humanized and redeemed his Archie. The recognition of self in the role of Archie and the willingness to admit it are beyond Lemmon. He is distant, predictable and therefore boring...
Screenwriter Steve Shagan was also responsible for the script of Save the Tiger, Jack Lemmon's Oscar-winning vehicle of two years back. Like Lemmon, Reynolds is forced to reminisce fondly about the putative glories of eras past-ballplayers, bands, movies-and wrestle with a numbing dose of angst. Although Director Robert Aldrich (The Longest Yard) does all he can to enliven this turgid material with sleazy jokes, low-down sex and a little violence, he cannot manage to stifle Shagan's sermon. Aldrich is like a kid passing around a dirty magazine while the preacher drones...
...them are probably going to be disappointed. Those who expect pornorgraphy are certainly in for a let down, and those who anticipate belly laughs will be only slightly more satisfied. Jack Lemmon's misadventure in a Harvard Square parking lot is good for a prolonged giggle (the attendant was approaching with a flashlight and Lemmon said, "Someone's coming," to which the woman replied, "Not yet"), but the net effect of these monologues is unmistakably depressing...