A New Leaf (1971)

A New Leaf is the kind of romantic comedy that dares to be sharp-edged and oddly tender at the same time, a pitch-black premise turned into something unexpectedly human by Elaine May’s singular voice. Walter Matthau plays Henry with that beautiful Matthau mix of charm and moral bankruptcy, while May makes Henrietta more than a target—she’s guileless, specific, and quietly heartbreaking, and the film’s biggest joke is how her sincerity keeps undoing his schemes. The tone is dry, literate, and wickedly observant, with comedy that comes from behavior and timing rather than punchlines, and a romance that sneaks up on you without asking permission. It won’t be for everyone if you need your love stories clean and cuddly, but if you like your comedy smart, offbeat, and a little dangerous, this one is a small classic.

A New Leaf is clearly aiming for a sophisticated, old-school comedy where a monstrously selfish man gets slowly undone by an earnest woman and the absurdity of his own scheme. The problem is the tone: it asks you to laugh while the premise stays uncomfortably close to real malice, and the movie can feel structurally lopsided, drifting between razor-sharp satire and stretches that play more awkward than funny. If you want a warm, swoony romance or a consistently breezy screwball, this may feel like a chilly mismatch. Still, Elaine May’s offbeat sensibility and Matthau’s shameless charm create some genuinely sublime moments—just don’t expect the film to smooth out its darkness for your comfort.