A TOUCH OF CLASS: Blu-ray (Brut/Avco Embassy, 1973) Warner Archive

Steve Blackburn (George Segal) and Vickie Allessio (Glenda Jackson) could have a wonderful life as man and wife…if only he were not already wed to somebody else. None of this was actually planned; not the affair, nor the shocking realization that without each other and, presumably, ‘a touch of class’ they have nothing in their respective lives. Melvin Frank’s ‘frankly’ unromantic comedy, A Touch of Class (1973) attempts to explain how two basically good people, misguided in their notion they can have their cake and eat it too, go on as lovers under the proverbial radar, and still, make it all click with a spark of authenticity, as it should – or rather ‘did’ in the beginning – is the subject of much consternation and debate. For although Vickie loves Steve madly, she cannot help feel all he really wants is a common whore. If so, then he can just leave his knickers in a ball on the bureau and ‘press any of those buttons marked ‘French’!’ It is a little hard to argue with Vickie’s logic. She feels dirty, used, and above all else, hopelessly turned on – flying on auto pilot with a man who is struggling to come to terms with the demise of his marriage and the start of a new relationship that was never intended to go beyond a few amiable and diverting weekend trysts. 

There have been other comedies about couples falling in love – other rom/coms about the boom being lowered on a pair of lovers, eventually found out by their significant others. And truth to tell – the greatest romances on celluloid have all followed a similar trajectory: She said she couldn’t live without him. He insisted he could not exist without her. Then, they each decided to go their separate ways and call it a day. But A Touch of Class remains a razor-sharp dissection of la grand amour to blossom between two basically incompatible people. It is the seriousness in this realization that leads to much of the awkward sting thereafter, uncharacteristic and apart from the usual he said/she told fluff and nonsense Hollywood is used to dolling out as a comedy of misdirection and errors. The screenplay by Frank and Jack Rose is a bit of a muddle, begun as a sort of fuzzy homage to all those memorable Spencer Tracy/Kate Hepburn ‘battle of the sexes’ flicks from the 1940’s and early 50’s, turned to the more severe palette of post-sexual revolution regrets, slowly to seep into early seventies cinema.  While some of the vignettes in A Touch of Class play to the strengths of a charmingly warm-hearted screwball, miraculously revived five decades removed from its particular soil, the un-funny moments in this movie do much to blunt and bludgeon our appreciation for the finely wrought comedy that comes from watching Jackson and Segal do their clever best to remain the proverbial ‘odd couple’ – reckless, feckless and ferociously silly when they are not tearing at one another like two hungry lions fighting over the same desiccated pheasant.

For its time, A Touch of Class possessed a refreshingly natural sense of eroticism wed to a perpetual ounce of silliness that kept the sex fun and the oft darker elements of postcoital reality from creeping in on all sides to teeter and veer into maudlin contemplation. The trick is not entirely resolved today, perhaps because subtlety is not an art readily practiced in the movies anymore, or because even for its time, the plot contains some creatively disparate anomalies to impede its joys while amplifying its shortcomings. Just when you think it is going to get really good, A Touch of Class goes down some very curious rabbit holes or gets pinned on making a teachable moment from its featherweight fluff; its wild twaddle mired in conventions more Victorian than modern and less ‘off the cuff’ than deliberately staged for our amusement, so as to give these performances a theatrical starch they otherwise lack. I adore the pert and pluck of Glenda Jackson, a real firebrand of an actress who never did anything half-ass, much less show a little in this movie. Her spit and polish here are commendably adroit, and when required, she opens the Ali Baba of her formidable thespian’s cavern of riches to a full-throttle flourish that makes her character’s greatest ambitions – to be more than a mistress – crisply known.  

George Segal’s appeal herein is a bit harder to swallow; having somewhat passed his prime as the stud du jour, blonde and broad-shouldered in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966) just a scant seven years earlier. Segal is at his best in A Touch of Class when he isn’t trying so hard to live up to Steve’s reputation as dapper dandy, but goes for broke playing the hapless male who finds himself in unfamiliar territory. The scene where Steve wrecks his back while attempting to seduce his paramour is truly hilarious; Segal, playing up the abject humiliation of having to admit that while his loins may be willing, his sciatic nerve is not coming along for the bump and grind. Together, Segal and Jackson have that certain je ne sais quoi spark of unique – rather than borrowed – on-screen chemistry. We can believe in their affair, even if both have already begun to have sincere doubts about its future longevity. Alas, the real hurdle for the actors to overcome is Frank and Rose’s weighty approach to the farce – forgetting that a ‘sex comedy’ need never actually show the sex to be erotically charged and/or riotously funny. Moreover, it is the tease of sex that proves tantalizing to an audience; also, the tease that buoys Jackson and Segal, even after the movie repeatedly intrudes with the prerequisite amount of tasteful nudity and blush-happy awkward moments that test the boundaries of permissible behavior on the screen. Parceled off without its dire moments of sexual angst and personal regret, A Touch of Class is a charming little gem. The problem, particularly from the vantage of the 1970’s – a decade not readily known for lightweight entertainments - it cannot ostensibly survive or be genuine without devolving into its depressing denouement.

Our story begins in London – predictably enough, with a ‘cute meet’: Vickie Allessio, a divorced British mother of two adorable children, Michael (Edward Kemp) and Julia (Lisa Vanderpump) is charmed by the sight of Steve Blackburn, playing touch football with a few friends in the park. They exchange the customary repartee afforded movie characters who are so obviously going to fall into lust with each other, and she, despite her more prudent approach to life and love, is oddly attracted to this total stranger in gray sweats. Problem: Steve is a married man who has never cheated on his wife before…well, at least, not in the same town. Yet, there is certainly something about Vickie to drag his sorry self to a Motel 6 for a little…well…you know. So, after sharing a taxi, Steve squires Vickie to tea, then lunch, then a hotel room. Openly admitting she could easily go for some uncomplicated sex Vickie is thoroughly unimpressed by Steve’s lack of originality. So, the two make plans to engage one another in Málaga. Predictably, none of this will be smooth sailing, as Steve, feigning a business trip to divert the suspicions of his rather naïve and dulcet wife, Gloria (Hildegarde Neil) unexpectedly finds himself inveigled to take Gloria, their children and her father, Wendell (Cec Linder) and mother, Martha (Mary Barclay) along for the weekend. They can all lounge at the hotel while Steve gets down to ‘business.’ Meanwhile, Vicki has booked her passage on the same flight as Steve’s mother. At the last possible moment, Gloria decides the whole trip is ridiculous, as she and Steve will be spending no time together. She opts to stay home, and Steve, pleasantly surprised by her decision, scurries off for his rendezvous with Vickie.

Again, fate intervenes, this time in Steve’s devoted friend, Walter Menkes (Paul Sorvino) – an American movie producer who narrowly avoided his own marital crisis by frequenting a shrink. His therapy cost him $18,000, but it also spared him the public humiliation of a very ugly divorce. Walter and Steve accidentally meet on the flight, forcing Vickie to pretend to be flying alone. On arrival in Málaga, Steve gives up his decent ride to Walter, just to get rid of him. Instead, he hires an Italian car with an awkward clutch. Having already lost out on the first part of their romantic getaway, Vickie is easily put off by Steve’s lack of finesse driving them to the hotel. Worse, the hotel Steve has booked them into has no elevator. So, it is a weighty slog up several flights of stairs, carrying their own luggage just to get to their double room. Once settled, and marginally exhausted, the mood between Vickie and Steve turns rather confrontational. They cannot even agree on a viable position to have sex. After some consternation, Steve is persuaded to get on top. Alas, his sciatica has other plans. After incurring a paralytic spasm, Steve is unable to move, leaving Vickie to telephone the house doctor (David De Keyser), who arrives with an epidural to put Steve out of his misery. It also renders him quite unconscious, leaving Vickie to sleep alone. Some romance!  

If things seemed bleak the night before, they do not improve much the next morning as Vickie bumps into an American lady, Patty (K Callan) with whom she finds little in common. Hence, when Patty suggests they hook up for dinner, Vickie politely declines. Meanwhile, Steve wakes up to discover Vickie sunning in a bikini on their balcony. It is enough of an enticement to finally arouse his dishonorable intentions beyond his threshold of pain. The seduction occurs and the two consummate their affair. Only afterward, Steve is disheartened by Vickie's laissez faire attitude about the sex they have just had. Was it good for you? Apparently, ample – but not much better than that.  Having impugned his cocksmanship, Steve flies off into a silly rage. To prove his manhood during a game of golf, Steve feels the need to defeat a local boy who has placed a bet against him. Beneath his dignity, Vickie is thoroughly unimpressed. As both Steve and Vickie are sincerely having doubts about their impromptu affair, she elects to dine with Patty while Steve, not to be chagrined, joins Walter for dinner. Alas, Patty is Walter’s wife! So, Steve and Vickie will be having dinner together after all. Feigning never to have met before, Steve is thoroughly uncomfortable for the duration of the meal. Afterward, he is offended when Vickie pokes fun at Steve’s plump daughter, who also has crooked teeth.

Having reached an impasse in their thoroughly flubbed flagrante delicto, both Steve and Vickie decide it is best to part company and leave for London as soon as possible. Only, Steve neglects to reserve plane tickets. Hence, when they arrive at the airport, Vickie and Steve learn the last two seats on the departing flight have just been sold. Frustrated and tired, the pair returns to the hotel, only to begin to attack each other in their room. Steve finds this exchange erotic and topples Vickie to the bed, almost tearing off her dress.  But kismet is still working against him. He cannot seem to unzip his pants. Suddenly amused by the folly of it all, Vickie declares, “My god, my one chance to be raped, and you can't get your bloody trousers off.” It is the badly needed ice breaker to reset their romantic interests in each other. Both Steve and Vickie burst into spontaneous laughter and their relationship, only tenuous and fragile a moment ago, now blossoms into precisely the sort of getaway each had hope for at the start of their plans. Alas, Walter and Patty become acutely aware of the couple’s ‘friendship’ and Walter, ever the ‘good friend’ decides to pull Steve away to lay his cards on the table. He knows there is more going on than meets the eye and shares a story of his own marital infidelity with Steve – one, he sincerely hopes will help Steve make the right decision where his marriage is concerned.

Nevertheless, upon their return to London, Steve cannot part from Vickie. Instead, they set up house in a clandestine building, mostly occupied by French hookers. Steve finds ways of slipping away from his home life to be with Vickie. Given his penchant for deception, Steve is not very precise at his craft. On one occasion, he tells Gloria he is taking the dog for a walk, spends the evening with Vickie, then forgets to bring the dog home. On another, Steve slips away during a symphony concert, returning an hour later wearing golf socks, claiming ‘the kids must have mixed things up.’ Predictably, things get complicated. Steve’s casual visitations are not enough to sustain Vickie’s happiness. In rank desperation she invites a gay co-worker, Cecil (Michael Elwyn) to spend the day with her. Feeling guilty for having rushing off, Steve returns to the apartment with flowers, only to find Vickie seated in front of the lavish meal she has just prepared. Embarrassed by his lack of understanding, Steve quietly retreats without saying a word. By now, Steve's co-workers are aware something is going on, particularly his male secretary, Derek (Ian Thompson) who inquiries whether Steve is having a "short lunch or a long lunch."  

Desperate to maintain his façade and two romances, Steve agrees to meet Vickie for dinner, completely forgetting he is expected at the theater with Gloria later that night. Finagling his way through the performance, Steve is unaware Vickie has caught a glimpse of him entering the theater with Gloria. Later, she casually inquiries why he is late, and he pretends to be overburdened with work. Now, Vickie lowers the boom with the truth, causing Steve to comment she sounds very much like his wife!  The next morning, Steve cruelly ends the affair by telegram. However, suffering a change of heart, Steve attempts to cancel the telegram, racing over to Vickie’s apartment. Only it has already arrived. Thus, when Steve gets to their flat, having bought groceries to cook for Vickie – something of his half-ass reconciliation – he nevertheless finds the apartment deserted and a record playing in the background. From the window, Steve sees Vickie waiting for the bus. He tries to get her attention. Alas, she does not take notice. Impatient to mark her getaway, Vickie hails a taxi instead. Steve observes as a handsome young man approaches the same taxi, the two exchanging smiles and cordial repartee which reminds him of his first chance meeting with Vickie. Now, the infinitely sadder but wiser Vickie inquires whether the stranger is married. When he openly confesses, he is, she nods and offers him the taxi, walking off in the distance alone. Steve telephones Walter, confiding that his affair has cost him a lot more than $18,000.

In its first act, A Touch of Class is a bittersweet, and often affecting rom/com that infrequently loses its way and then, unsettles its premise into a sort of perpetual lover’s angst that steadily lowers its comic appeal until, quite suddenly, we find ourselves in the middle of a quirky melodrama, winding down the tail-end of an affair. Does it work? Not sure. Are we entertained? Not entirely. I suspect the truffles and chestnuts get in the way of our appreciation for this mis-matched mangling of a good thing turned rancid. Glenda Jackson and George Segal do their thing – and do it well – but are not so much ‘let down’ as misdirected by a screenplay that is constantly altering its trajectory until not even the characters are certain where their final outcome will land. Personally, I have always been a little conflicted and put off by A Touch of Class, enjoying its performances and many of its plot points, but somehow, never entirely ‘getting into’ or ‘buying up wholesale’ the story. There are elements here to linger long after the footlights have come up. Certainly, Jackson’s Oscar-winning performance (her second Best Actress statuette – the first, for 1969’s Women in Love) stands out, as does Austen Dempster’s plush and padded cinematography. Aside: when Jackson’s name was read aloud on Oscar night, a rumored recount of the ballads was conducted as the odds-on favorites that year to win were either Marsha Mason for Cinderella Liberty or Ellen Burstyn in The Exorcist.

A Touch of Class arrives on Blu-ray from the Warner Archive in a predictably solid 1080p transfer with all the bells and whistles applied to ensure another quality affair. We really need to pause here and doff our caps to WAC’s enduring commitment to quality when so many other studios have simply taken to dumping their respective deep catalog on third-party distributors with little care or effort applied to ensure optimal standards for the latest media format are being met. Universal? Is anyone over there listening?!?! But I digress. WAC’s rendering here sports ripe, bold hues, solid contrast, a light smattering of film grain, and an abundance of fine detail revealed in skin, hair, clothing, etc. A Touch of Class looks ravishing and will surely not disappoint. The scan is in 2K from an interpositive with color correction applied to ensure optimal results. The original mono soundtrack is in DTS 2.0 and sounds marvelous. The title song performed by Madeline Bell and composed by Sammy Cahn and George Barrie is a spiffy jaunt through late-sixties/early seventies mod. Unusual for an ‘archive’ release – there are NO extras other than a trailer. Bottom line: A Touch of Class is a refreshingly ‘different’ kind of rom/com. While the movie is unevenly structured, the performances are grand, and, its release in hi-def, is absolutely perfect. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

0