Reflections on Jack Lemmon's Acting

The man walks into the Carnegie Delicatessen.

He turns to the waiter and he says,

Can I have a fried shrimp sandwich and a chocolate frap?

Just want you to know the kind of man we're dealing with tonight.

Anyway, we were three weeks into the making of the

fortune cookie when I said to Jack Lemmon,

Why are you doing this movie? I have the best part.

He looked at me for a second and he said,

Don't you think it's about time?

Four years later, Lemmon and I were driving to Sedona,

Arizona to see our respective sons at the Verde Valley High School.

We stopped at a gas station for some soda pop and some sandwiches.

There was an old Indian taking care of the place and

he went about his business with a rather doer look.

So I said to him, pointing at Lemmon, I said, You know that man?

He's a famous movie star.

The old Indian smiled and he said, You guys don't fool me.

You're the odd couple.

Ten minutes later, back in the car, Jack said,

He must have seen the movie.

That's what I like about Lemmon. He's funny.

I figured my knowing him so well was the reason

he always seemed so familiar up there on the screen.

It's not.

It's just what he does.

He allows us to see the tragedy and the comedy of the world

through the eyes of someone we know.

Someone he hints we may even be.

Because in the words of the poet and philosopher Billy Wilder,

most actors can show you one or two things and they've emptied their shelves.

Jack Lemmon is Macy's and Tiffany's and Sears Roebuck catalog and all.