Shenanigans

GAME NIGHT (B-minus) - If you find Jason Bateman as funny as I do, then this will be worth it. He rescues scene after scene of this average suburban caper movie with his classic comedic timing. The premise revolves around a group of dorky adult couple friends who geek out playing party games.

Bateman's Max bristles whenever his wife, Annie (Rachel McAdams), compares him to his brother, Brooks (Kyle Chandler), even more so when Brooks insists on crashing Game Night with what he considers the ultimate stumper of a premise. Things get wacky, and it's hard to tell what's real and what's not, when it appears that thugs have hijacked the game.

There's a creepy neighbor, Gary (TV actor Jesse Plemons), who has been disinvited from Game Night because his wife left him, leaving him the odd man out and forcing the others to come up with elaborate ways to sneak around to avoid him. Gary is a dorky law enforcement officer, and if you think he'll figure out a way to play the hero, you're only halfway to the series of plot twists.

But too often the comedy feels forced and the gags obvious. A running joke involving one couple's squabble over which celebrity the wife once slept with grates and fails to pay off. The other couple involves a randy bachelor, notorious for bringing very young, dim-witted dates to Game Night, instead pairing with an age-appropriate woman with a brain. That plot string goes nowhere, either. But there's Bateman, crushing it in the clutch just when you think it's time to bail on this lightweight effort.

THE APARTMENT (A) - Billy Wilder's masterpiece (at least one of them) coasts on Jack Lemmon's energy and charm as a insurance company nebbish, C.C. Baxter, who lets the higher-ups use his apartments for their extramarital dalliances, with the promise of a corner office near the morally bankrupt boss, played by Fred MacMurray (from Wilder's early noir "Double Indemnity").

And Shirley MacLaine, in her debut, is adorable and incorrigible as Baxter's love interest, Miss Kubelik. There's the classic Wilder snap to the dialogue (written here with partner I.A.L. Diamond), including the patented adoption of the slang of the day -- here the overused suffix -wise, as in my favorite line, "That's the way it crumbles -- cookie-wise."

The plot thickens, as Baxter is more and more put out by the shenanigans, and his landlady and neighbors are more and more appalled by his misbegotten reputation as a playboy. A complicated love triangle ensues, but while the pathos builds, the comedy keeps an even keel. There's not a false move here.