Alright fellow tape travelers, let’s set sail back to 1997. Remember those late-night channel surfs or weekend trips to Blockbuster where you just wanted something… comfortable? Something familiar, maybe starring faces you’d grown up watching bicker and charm their way through comedies? That’s the exact feeling evoked by popping Out to Sea into the VCR. It wasn't aiming to reinvent the wheel, but seeing Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau together again? That was always an event, even deep into the Clinton years. This wasn't quite their Odd Couple prime, nor the unexpected winter smash of Grumpy Old Men, but it felt like a warm, slightly faded postcard from two beloved screen legends.
### All Aboard for Familiar Laughs
The premise is pure sitcom gold, stretched out for a feature film runtime, but elevated by its leads. Walter Matthau, playing the perpetually scheming Charlie Gordon, cons his recently widowed, down-on-his-luck brother-in-law Herb Sullivan (Jack Lemmon) into joining him on a luxury cruise. The catch? They’re not paying passengers; they’re working as dance hosts, expected to charm and entertain the single, wealthy women aboard. Naturally, Herb is appalled, while Charlie sees it as a golden opportunity to snag a rich wife. Cue the predictable but often genuinely funny situations: Herb’s awkward attempts at dancing, Charlie’s shameless gold-digging, and their desperate efforts to avoid the eagle eye of the ship's martinet cruise director, Gil Godwyn, played with delightful slimeball energy by Brent Spiner (yes, Data himself, clearly having fun outside the android skin).
It's the kind of setup you could see coming a mile off, but the magic, as always with these two, is in the execution. Lemmon, the master of fretful anxiety, is perfectly cast as the reluctant Herb, his face a roadmap of worry and indignation. Matthau, meanwhile, leans into his grumpy, opportunistic persona with effortless charisma. Their chemistry, honed over decades and ten films together (this being their final starring pairing, a bittersweet note), is the movie's anchor. They volley lines back and forth with the comfortable rhythm of an old married couple, their familiar dynamic papers over some of the script's thinner patches. You just believe these two characters, their shared history, their exasperation and underlying affection.
### Cruising with Legends (and a Few Surprises)
While Lemmon and Matthau are the undeniable main course, the supporting cast adds some nice flavor. Dyan Cannon, as the vivacious and available Liz LaBreche, brings her signature sparkle and matches Matthau beat for beat in the flirtation department. It's lovely seeing Gloria DeHaven (a star from Hollywood's Golden Age!) as Vivian, the sweet widow who catches Herb's eye. Their gentle romance provides a necessary counterpoint to Charlie's crass maneuvering. And Spiner… oh, Gil Godwyn is just a fantastic foil. His character is completely over-the-top, a petty tyrant in nautical stripes, and Spiner chews the scenery with infectious glee. It's a far cry from the Enterprise bridge, and a reminder of his comedic chops.
Director Martha Coolidge, who gave us such diverse gems as the era-defining Valley Girl (1983) and the clever Real Genius (1985), might seem an unusual choice. Here, she doesn't impose a strong auteurist stamp but provides a steady, professional hand. She wisely keeps the focus squarely on her legendary leads and lets their interactions drive the film. The production itself feels pleasantly authentic for the time – much of it was indeed filmed aboard the MS Westerdam, giving it that genuine cruise ship atmosphere, a world away from green screens. Remember when comedies just… went places? It adds a layer of visual interest that grounds the sometimes featherlight plot. This wasn't a mega-budget blockbuster (reportedly costing around $17 million), but it looked pleasant, capturing the slightly gaudy appeal of late-90s luxury travel.
### That Late 90s Comfort Food Vibe
Out to Sea arrived at a time when adult-skewing comedies were becoming less common at the multiplex, squeezed out by younger demographics and burgeoning CGI spectacles. It felt like a bit of a throwback even then, relying on old-fashioned star power and gentle situational humor rather than gross-out gags or frantic pacing. Written by Robert Nelson Jacobs (who would later pen the quite different Chocolat), the script isn't groundbreaking, but it understands its stars and gives them plenty to work with.
Was it hailed as a masterpiece? Not exactly. Reviews were mixed, often acknowledging the charm of the leads while pointing out the formulaic nature of the story. But audiences looking for exactly what it offered – Lemmon and Matthau doing their thing – found it a perfectly agreeable voyage. It performed decently at the box office (around $28 million domestically), proving there was still an appetite for these kinds of star-driven comedies. Watching it now on a slightly fuzzy tape transfer (or, okay, maybe a streaming service), it feels like slipping into comfortable slippers. It’s predictable, sure, but the warmth generated by its central duo is undeniable. There are moments you’ll chuckle at, perhaps a few you’ll genuinely laugh at, and the overall feeling is one of pleasant nostalgia.
---
VHS Heaven Rating: 6/10
Justification: The rating reflects the undeniable star power and chemistry of Lemmon and Matthau, which elevates a fairly standard, predictable comedy script. Brent Spiner and Dyan Cannon add good support, and the cruise ship setting provides a nice backdrop. It loses points for its lack of originality and reliance on familiar tropes, but it succeeds as comfortable, nostalgic entertainment powered by two legends in their final on-screen outing together.
Final Take: Like finding a slightly worn but cozy sweater at the back of the closet, Out to Sea offers familiar comfort and the irreplaceable joy of watching two screen giants spar one last time. It’s pure 90s comfort food cinema – maybe not gourmet, but definitely satisfying on a quiet night in.