Let me be once again the turd in the punchbowl here by offering a dissenting opinion to this cornucopia of praise. Let's stipulate that Anne Bancroft and Jack Lemmon turn in first-rate performances here. The problem is the script, whose indecision between wanting to be on the one hand a comedy about the frustration of New York living, and on the other a chilling portrayal of a person becoming mentally unravelled in midlife, ultimately upsets the film. Any movie that contains both the slapstick scene of Mel being drenched by a bucket of water from his irate neighbor, and the truly unsettling dinner table scene where he viciously attacks his long-suffering wife is going to exhaust and confuse the viewer. That said, the fizzily Simonesque repartee is enjoyable on its own level, and the chemistry between Lemmon and Bancroft is superb. A flawed movie, but worth watching.
Review of The Prisoner of Second Avenue
