As if being one of the best character studies of
the ’70s wasn’t enough, Save the Tiger
occupies an important place in the career of actor Jack Lemmon, a rare
Hollywood star who was equally adept and comedy and drama. Not only did the
picture net Lemmon his only Academy Award for a leading role (he’d nabbed a
Best Supporting Actor prize for 1955’s Mister
Roberts), but Save the Tiger
contains a genuine tour de force performance—Lemmon is nearly every scene,
cascading through myriad emotions as he meticulously illustrates the
psychological dissipation of an everyman whose pursuit of the American Dream
has driven him to the brink of financial and moral ruin. Written by Steve
Shagan, who adapted his own novel of the same name, Save the Tiger is an unapologetic attempt at a Big Statement about
the costs of capitalism. However, because Shagan and director John G. Avildsen
keep their focus squarely on the life of one specific man, the filmmakers
mostly evade the pitfall of pretension. (A few florid speeches and the obtuse
title, which stems from a minor plot element, are among the handful of minor
missteps.)
Set in contemporary Los Angeles, the movie tracks a day in the life
of Harry Stoner (Lemmon), a clothing-company executive who has stretched the
firm’s finances too thin. As the day progresses, Harry contemplates and
executes various schemes for righting the company’s fiscal ship—his attempt at
wooing a client with the services of a prostitute proving especially disastrous—while
slowly accepting the grim reality that nothing can extricate him from the trap
he’s built. Concurrently, Harry wrestles with the existential questions that
are brought up by seeing the consequences of his life choices, and he also
faces the sobering fact that he’s lost touch with the carefree rhythms of
youth.
Borrowing a page from Arthur Miller, Shagan defines his protagonist as a
victim of the quest for the almighty dollar, but unlike Miller’s Death of a Salesman protagonist Willy
Loman, who struggles to find dignity while stuck in the grind of a dehumanizing
career, Harry Stoner wants it all—excitement, fulfillment, stability, success.
In a sense, therefore, Harry’s disease is the mere act of wanting, so the reckless moves he makes to gain position and wealth
are symptoms of the disease. Fitting that analogy, Harry’s wildest idea
involves a form of surgery to remove the cancer of financial burden: He tries
to involve his business partner, Phil Greene (Jack Gilford), in a plan to burn
down the company’s building for insurance money. Could there be a more potent spiritual
metaphor than the idea of resurrection through self-destruction?
Because
Shagan’s storyline employs such dexterity in dramatizing concepts, occasional
sins of theatrical flamboyance are easily forgiven, although it’s harder to
overlook the contrived finale. Nonetheless, Save
the Tiger is so purposeful and truthful for most of its running time that
it’s virtually a paradigm for intimate storytelling. Earning every golden ounce
of his Oscar, Lemmon is on fire from the first scene to the last, revealing the
tumult boiling inside every Mr. Nice Guy he’s ever played. Led by the
wonderful Gilford, the mostly anonymous supporting cast works efficiently in
Lemmon’s shadow. Avildsen captures every nuance with a documentarian’s
restraint, transforming Save the Tiger
into an unvarnished portrait of modern life as a slog through a callous social
system.
Save
the Tiger: RIGHT ON
