PG-13 | 1h 46min | Romance-Drama, Comedy | 1972
“The Heartbreak Kid” (1972) is one of Elaine May’s best films as a director. It’s based on Neil Simon’s screenplay, which in turn, is based on Bruce Jay Friedman’s play “A Change of Plan.”
This year marks the movie’s 50th anniversary, yet it speaks, even today, to anyone who’s ever dated, married, divorced, remarried, and gone nowhere in a hurry. It speaks, tongue in cheek, however, just as May and Simon want it to.
A regular Jewish guy, Lenny (Charles Grodin) falls for and marries a regular Jewish girl, Lila (Jeannie Berlin, May’s daughter). Three days in, he finds her too dowdy, and figures he’s chosen poorly.
Already on the Rocks
Simon’s theme, though, is serious enough. It’s about selfishness and how it allows us to see others only dimly, as if through a stained glass pane. And how their selfishness prevents them from seeing us fully. In interviews, Simon has said he only senses how a play will do, but is never certain of its “success” until it’s performed before an audience. Rehearsals and readings don’t offer the comfort of certainty. Quite the metaphor for dating and marriage.Lenny (to his new bride): “You’ve got a lousy voice.”
Lila (stunned, but smiling): “You’re just gonna have to get used to it, for the next 40 or 50 years.”
Lenny: “40 or 50 years!?”
Lila (snuggling): “Do you love me?”
Lenny (singing): “Yes, I do”
Lila tries to snuggle further, but Lenny will have none of it while at the wheel.
Lila (sulking): “Grouch!”
In their first hours together, Lila insists that he repeatedly show his love for her, explicitly, when she wants him to, and how she wants him to. When he protests, she amplifies her barb, “Are you going to be grouchy for the next 50 years?”Over the next few days, awkward silences and smiles suggest what we, as the audience, already know (but what seems to shock the couple): They’re different people, still strangers to each other.
Both are adults, all right. But, since when did mere adulthood promise maturity, too?
Idiosyncrasies they’d dismissed in the heat of courtship, now loom large, grating on their nerves. Both try to explain, if not excuse, their irritation. After all, a lot of what they’re doing “together” now is new. How could they have had a chance to notice these “annoying” mannerisms before?
Enter flirty Kelly, whom Lenny finds instantly attractive, engaging, fun and funny. Before long, he confides to her that his marriage was “one of those dumb things I rushed into … except this time I’m not gonna wait around three years to get out.”
Then about his drive with Lila, he later tells Kelly, “I had my doubts in Virginia. I was pretty sure in Georgia. You have really settled things for me in Florida.” Decision-making by driving, as it were.
When Kelly’s parents discover that Lenny’s wooing their daughter, they’re more disgusted that he’s dumping his bride while still honeymooning, than put off by his Jewishness, which isn’t very obvious anyway.
Lenny’s dogged pursuit of Kelly, defying her equally dogged Dad, is played for laughs, even if not all the comedy lands as planned. As he gets to know Kelly and her parents, it’s clearer to Lenny that his remarriage, too, will be rocky, if not wrecked. Even so, he plunges ahead.
Lenny’s fixation on Kelly merely disguises his fixation on himself; it blinds him to everyone else. Lila keeps demanding love, but isn’t asking herself if she’s saying or doing the loving thing.
May’s Magic
Elaine May magnifies what her characters are experiencing, through tight frames of two characters, occasionally three or four, but barely any long-shots or close-ups. She shows you the minutiae: the pursing of annoyed lips, a crinkled nose, a parted mouth, an indulgent smile, a silly laugh, or an incredulous stare.
May’s fervent framing shines in scenes where Lenny’s lying through his teeth to Lila, or playing Mr. Perfect before Kelly’s family. As May’s characters chat, you notice micro-actions and reactions. It’s like “seeing” conversations, in bold font.
In one scene, Lenny asks Kelly’s parents for their daughter’s hand in marriage, saying the wrong things, and implying worse. Without shifting her camera, May shows you everyone’s reactions, as Lenny first digs a small hole for himself, then a bigger one.
Some of May’s handling of Simon’s screenplay is funny.
Lenny lavishes dinner on Lila to announce divorce. While his shallow side unravels, Lila says he’s “deep!” As he tries to break it to her, she imagines he has some fatal disease that he’s telling her about now, and starts to cry. He clarifies that he’s not dying, he merely wants a divorce. She’s already crying, but for the wrong reason.
Simon Says
Simon’s message is in his opening act: a journey.Trouble starts when you see marriage as a destination, rather than a journey. After a while it’s easy to complain that she (or he) has “changed,” for the worse. You forget that you’ve “changed,” too, and not always for the better. Marriage is a chance to discover or rediscover yourself and your partner.
Courtship may begin on the “steps” of attractiveness, likes and dislikes, or background (religion, class, race, language). Marriage, however, is going “through the door and aisle,” beyond all that, to “the person,” in his or her entirety.
We tend to flaunt our finer points and mask our flaws. So, marriage is, more than anything else, an embrace of flaws, even if it starts off with an embrace of finer points. It isn’t for the faint-hearted. It’s a commitment to try to perfect two imperfections by complementing, not competing or clashing.
As someone said, marriage isn’t “finding” the right partner, but “being” the right partner. The catch? You receive the best in a relationship, usually—and often only—after you give your best. Only then does a marriage thrive, rather than merely survive.
Lenny seems to have everything; what’s missing is love.
We’re all selfish, to a degree. A “happy” marriage depends on how much both partners want to be mature, selfless, and loving. Many of us start out needy, like Lila, end up needy, like Lenny, or stay indifferent, like Kelly.
Sometimes, we “learn” or grow “out of” an infatuation and “into” a loving relationship. It’s why most marriages take time to work. Many don’t work because someone’s not giving their best for long enough or “giving” second-best, while whining about “receiving” second-best.
Marriage may be a social contract, love isn’t. It isn’t the contract that makes a marriage “work,” love does that.
