Avanti!

Avanti shouldn’t work.

At nearly two and a half hours, this story of Jack Lemmon as an American businessman in Italy to arrange for the return of his deceased father’s body only to fall for Juliet Mills, the daughter of his father’s long time mistress, is at least a half-hour too long.

And it’s not an overt, laugh-out-loud riot like director Billy Wilder’s best efforts. Yet, the film has a certain charm that seeps in as it unfurls. A lazy hook that holds your interest and leaves you, if not with a smile, then at least a smirk.

Perhaps it’s Lemmon. Nobody does Wilder and co-writer I.A.L. Diamond’s dialog better, as he takes lines that would seem manic if performed by any other actor, and makes them seem like perfectly natural deliveries. He’s the ultimate everyman, flawed but lovable, and ultimately relatable.

Or it could be Mills, who purposefully gained weight to play the role of a decidedly believable woman who, thanks to her performance, we come to care about just as Lemmon’s character does. She’s a discrete charmer, harboring an inner beauty that blossoms as the story progresses.

Or maybe it’s Clive Revill. He nearly steals the film as an overly accommodating hotel manager who’s simply too perfect to be real, but we accept him anyway, as he’s really an extension of Italy itself, whose backdrops form the fantasy setting that somehow feels as though it may still exist today, hidden away in some forgotten part of the country.

Whatever the reason, Avanti works in spite of itself. Wilder may not have hit a home run, but it’s a solid base hit that invites leisurely repeat viewings, and worth a look for Wilder fans or for fans of Jack Lemmon.