THE ODD COUPLE, the second and best of eight comic teamings of Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau, was the 6th biggest hit of 1968, grossing $44,527,000. Directed by Gene Saks (Barefoot In The Park, Cactus Flower) it was not only the most successful joker of the year but far & away the smartest: strife-plowed ’68 reaped a harvest of comedies that were lame, often downright pitiful. Two Academy Award nominations came forth, one for Neil Simon’s screenplay, adapted from his play, which ran 964 performances and netted Matthau a Tony (Art Carney was his counterpart on stage) and another for Film Editing, the work of Frank Bracht (Damn Yankees, Hud, The Molly Maguires).

“Don’t point that finger at me unless you intend to use it.”

Manhattan. Newly split from his wife, ‘Felix Ungar’ (Lemmon, 43) stumbles into the weekly poker game hosted by his divorced friend ‘Oscar Muldoon’ (Matthau, 47), and is so forlorn he’s almost suicidal. Oscar, being a pal, invites Felix to room with him until he can get his life together. Consideration and comradeship shortly become caustic conflict because Oscar is a happily relaxed slob and Felix a prickly neat-freak. Oscar wants to cut loose, Felix is moping enough for a funeral parlor. Things boil over when Oscar invites two young English ladies who live in the building to come over for dinner. ‘Gwendolyn’ (Carole Shelley, 28) and ‘Cecily’ (Monica Evans, 27) are the ‘Pigeon’ sisters—cute, chirpy, cleared to flock. Felix fumbles the four-playing, the Pigeon’s flee the coop and Oscar lays down the law when it comes to order.

“I can’t take it anymore, Felix, I’m cracking up. Everything you do irritates me. And when you’re not here, the things I know you’re gonna do when you come in irritate me. You leave me little notes on my pillow. Told you 158 times I can’t stand little notes on my pillow. “We’re all out of cornflakes. F.U.” Took me three hours to figure out F.U. was Felix Ungar!”

Anyone’s who’s ever had a roommate whose codes challenged common sense can relate to a degree; Felix’s neuroses risk turning Hallmark to homicide and if Oscar is okay with modern art ala linguine (“Now it’s garbage!”) then imagine the bathroom situation. Simon’s framework is the venerable Mutt & Jeff schemata of polar opposites stuck with each other (Stan & Ollie, Bud & Lou, Bob & Bing, Dino & Jerry), only plunked into a modern urban day-to-day shtick (New Yorkish Nixon era vintage). It’s foolproof enough that a number of players could field the gags (see below *) but fortunately in this instance two of the best of their day clicked, form fit not just due to selection and timing, but by the personal friendship that infused their work. Lemmon was on top of a long hit streak and Matthau had emerged as a lead contender; each play to their strengths. A major coup was the casting of Evans and Shelley, the delightful highlight of the piece, a blind-date from British bird-land.

Neil Hefti’s bouncy theme music is his best recognized composition, after the pulse-racer to TVs Batman (we dig his offbeat western score for Duel At Diablo). Produced for a trim $1,200,000, running 105 minutes, with Herbert Edelman, David Sheiner, John Fiedler, Larry Haines, Iris Adrian, Heywood Hale Broun and Angelique Pettyjohn.

* Lemmon was selected over Art Carney for box office clout. Others considered and who would’ve been fun included Frank Sinatra & Jackie Gleason and Dick Van Dyke & Mickey Rooney. Tony Randall & Jack Klugman made a natural fit for TV; the series ran five years. A way-belated feature sequel, The Odd Couple II, with Jack & Walter (their final duo), also written by Simon (his last), showed up thirty years later, but 1998 wasn’t kind to it, critically or commercially. Moral: don’t take a good thing and run it into the ground.