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Sometimes the saddest stories are the most beautiful. Life is never easy or clear cut, and we all know that there’s often sorrow found on the road to happiness. In The Apartment (1960), director Billy Wilder takes two decent, lonely, broken people looking for real love, and cultivates their developing romance out of an impossibly cynical, ruthless and despicably sexist world of corporate politics. C.C. Baxter, played by Jack Lemmon in one of his finest performances, is eager to please his bosses, and for him, it’s easy because he loves his job. He believes in what he does at Consolidated Life. He not only understands the complicated world of actuarial statistics, he lives for them. Numbers and figures and random factoids are fascinating to him. But Baxter also dreams of that corner wood paneled office with a private key to the executive washroom, where he can serve as an advisor and assistant to the head of the company, and delegate responsibilities to the next set of ambitious young employees. Although Baxter certainly has what it takes to be in upper management, there are hundreds just like him—on staggered schedules for efficiency, robotically processing insurance data. In an endless sea of identical desks with the repetitive, almost-rhythmic sounds of their adding machines, all of the employees working on the nineteenth floor dream of the day they can pick up their rolodex and answer the call to serve in the promised land that is the twenty-seventh floor.
For C.C. Baxter, his dream of ascending into an upper management role is realized and occurs at a breakneck pace. But it’s not just Baxter’s talent for the insurance racket that earned him the promotion. Baxter has many good, strong qualities: he’s caring and devoted and is the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back. But his superiors believe Baxter—or Buddy Boy as they like to call him—has one asset which surpasses all the rest: his apartment. He’s single and completely unattached. Desperate to find somewhere in the city to carry on their extramarital affairs in the hours before their long commute to suburban homes, Baxter’s managers manipulate him into lending them his apartment. In exchange for his generosity, the bosses give “Buddy Boy” glowing reviews and recommendations for promotions rung by rung, up the otherwise twisted, unclimbable corporate ladder. And so, a man who actually cares about his job and is damn good at it can only make headway by impressing his bosses with a rent-by-the-hour motel. It’s all so very sad and desperate—that a man so lonely, and who has such little self-worth thinks that he can’t make his way through the business world without sacrificing his private life. Baxter has nowhere to go when his bosses are using the apartment, which is more often than not. Instead, he stays at work late or wanders the New York City streets, constantly checking his watch or hiding out at the foot of the stairs outside his building. In his efforts to keep things secret, Baxter doesn’t correct his neighbors when they assume he is the one in his apartment with a new woman every day, guzzling champagne and eating little cheese crackers. His landlady views him as a no-good Don Juan, and his neighbor, Dr. Dreyfuss, who always keeps his medical bag handy along with a bit of sarcasm and sage advice, is concerned about Baxter’s seemingly reckless lifestyle. To Doc Dreyfuss, Baxter is a walking alcohol-soaked venereal disease, and he warns Baxter that his hard living will soon kill him. Of course, the doc’s assumptions couldn’t be further from the truth. In the rare event that Baxter does get time at home, it’s spent alone. Flipping through channels and eating a TV dinner, Baxter finally concedes to the day’s events and the boredom as the loneliness calls him to bed. And the next day it all starts over again.
And then you have Fran Kubelik, played by Shirley MacLaine. In many ways, she’s just like Baxter. She’s lonely and sad and terribly misunderstood. And most of the attention she receives is from male executives trying to bed her. But while Baxter wants nothing more than to be on the top floor of Consolidated Life, Fran’s been there. Matter of fact, Fran is there several times a day, ferrying the top executives, including Jeff Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray), her secret lover. This is a man who has no regard for Fran’s feelings, and he is perfectly happy with just keeping her on retainer for whenever he feels like a fling. To Sheldrake, Fran is just another perk that comes along with running a business. When Fran learns of Baxter’s desire to work amongst those executives, including Sheldrake, she almost acts confused. She immediately sees the good in Baxter and that he doesn’t fit in that world. He’s far too sweet and kind, and doesn’t possess the selfishness that is displayed by the most successful execs. Baxter doesn’t belong there, but of course he can’t see that. His idea of success is being on that top floor. And once he’s had his success then perhaps he can find happiness in his personal life—and maybe even impress Fran, who he’s long admired. But Fran knows everything that happens on the twenty-seventh floor—particularly what happens behind closed doors. And while she knows it’s impossible to find happiness there, she understands the attraction, even if her ties to the top floor are different from Baxter’s. But maybe they aren’t so different after all. For some reason, Baxter and Fran have decided their happiness and success in both public and private life is directly tied to Sheldrake—a man whose charismatic behavior is both charming and disgusting, as he knowingly uses his power and influence to bend those around him to his will. His power is attractive to both Baxter and Fran—for different reasons, of course.
In keeping with the cynical tone of the story, Baxter and Fran’s romance emerges as Fran recuperates from a suicide attempt inside Baxter’s apartment. An attempt provoked by the callous actions of Sheldrake. Both Fran and Baxter are victims of Sheldrake’s selfishness. That shared experience opens the door for the two to get to know one another. They have much in common: they both deserve a partner who not only loves them unconditionally, but respects them. Although it takes Fran a bit longer to realize her love for Baxter, it’s quite alright by him. After all, he’s waited all his life to be loved by someone like her. And out of this terribly sad story, comes a beautiful ending. Two lonely people find love, ascending to a point in life that actually has significant meaning–happiness-wise.
Jill Blake
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