If you’ve spent any time in a modern corporate office, the first ten minutes of this movie will give you hives. The visual of the main character sitting at a desk that looks exactly like ten thousand other desks in a cavernous, windowless room is the ultimate mid-century nightmare. It’s the direct ancestor of Mad Men, but while that show often glamorized the three-martini lunch, this movie is here to show you the rot underneath the suit.
The "Nice Guy" Paradox
The movie works because the protagonist isn’t a hero; he’s a doormat. Watching him check his watch and wander the rainy streets while his bosses use his bed for affairs is deeply pathetic, and the film doesn't look away from that. It’s a great case study for a teen on the difference between being "nice" and having integrity.
The "climb the ladder at any cost" mentality is presented as a soul-sucking trap. If your teen is starting to think about internships or the working world, this is a cynical but necessary look at what happens when you trade your self-respect for a key to the executive washroom. It’s one of the funniest classic movies in a strictly "laugh so you don't cry" way, but the humor is sharp enough to cut.
Tonal Whiplash
Parents need to be ready for the moment the "rom-com" mask slips. There is a specific sequence involving a suicide attempt that completely shifts the energy of the film. It isn't a brief plot point; it becomes the anchor for the entire second half.
This isn't a movie where problems are solved with a wacky misunderstanding and a chase to the airport. It deals with:
- The crushing weight of being "the other woman" in a dead-end relationship.
- How powerful men use and discard people they view as disposable.
- The physical and emotional fallout of a genuine mental health crisis.
Because the climax happens on December 31st, it often lands on lists of 8 New Year's Eve Movies That Won't Make You Cringe Watching with Your Teen. It fits that category perfectly because it captures the actual feeling of the holiday—the mixture of forced celebration and deep, quiet loneliness.
Why It Still Works
Modern viewers might struggle with the 1960s pacing, but the dialogue is lethal. Every line serves a purpose, and the way the movie uses small objects—a cracked mirror, a tennis racket used to strain pasta, a fruitcake—to tell the story is a masterclass in filmmaking.
It doesn't pander. It assumes the audience is smart enough to see through the corporate doublespeak and root for the characters to finally become "mensches" (human beings). If you can get a teen past the black-and-white barrier, they’ll find a movie that feels more honest about adult life than most modern blockbusters.
