In the history of romantic comedies, few films have done quite as much heavy-lifting as Barefoot in the Park, Gene Saks’ beloved adaptation of Neil Simon’s adorable play about two people who discover how easy it is to get married, with the challenge coming in staying together, especially in contrast to the obstacles they face. However, it doesn’t often receive the praise it perhaps warrants, probably because this is a film that is important as a work that influenced later ones, rather than standing as an entirely excellent one on its own. Conventional and derivative to an extent (albeit not necessarily in a bad way – it is a product of its time, after all), but also oddly progressive, wildly funny and always very sweet, Barefoot in the Park is a special film, one that can easily be appreciated by a wider audience even today, since it stands out in a genre that is perhaps too overly-saturated, many of these films holding an enormous debt to Simon, even if they don’t initially realize how he set the conceptual framework for every major romantic comedy that would come afterwards. Watching this film feels like getting back to the roots of the genre, especially in how it acts as a “bridge” between the happy-go-lucky screwball comedies of the Golden Age, and the more serious-minded, melancholy romances of the New Hollywood era – and whether we take it on face-value as just a delightful romantic comedy, or as a brutal deconstruction of the marital system (although one with a happy ending), Barefoot in the Park is always worth watching, even at its most conventional.

If there is one aspect of this film that is most fondly remembered today, it would be the two lead performances. By the time Barefoot in the Park went into production, neither Jane Fonda nor Robert Redford were necessarily obscure – they were still very young actors that weren’t considered particularly brilliant actors yet, but they were known enough for the entire film to be built on their talents, as well as the insatiable chemistry. Fonda in particular was undergoing something of a career shift, going from the daughter of one of Hollywood’s most cherished actors who was spending her time working in a range of different genres, to someone who could command the screen all on her own (Cat Ballou was probably the turning point, as it established her as both a bona fide star, and a very dedicated actress, much more than several children of cinematic nepotism). Pairing her up with the ferociously talented and extremely sought-after Redford was a good choice, since they both possessed the sex appeal to sell this very flirtatious, irreverent comedy about marriage, but also were talented enough to handle the more serious sides of the story. Had this film focused on one or the other, rather than finding the balance between the comedy and drama, it’s highly unlikely that Barefoot in the Park would have been as successful as it was, since it is essentially a series of oscillations between tones, each new scene bringing nuance and detail to a story that isn’t aiming to be the definitive text on any particular issue, but rather one that stirs conversation and makes the viewer ponder some of the more unconventional aspects of a long-term relationship – and this isn’t even touching on Mildred Natwick and Charles Boyer, who round out the cast in two scene-stealing supporting parts that are just as interesting as the performances given by the leads.

Barefoot in the Park is a rare film on a purely narrative level, since it takes place at metaphysical locations not normally associated with romantic comedies – it’s a story that exists in the “gaps” of more conventional love stories, looking at ideas that are a bit more foreign in terms of the genre’s standards. Most entries into this genre either focus on individuals who have just met and are falling in love, or those who have been together for a while and attempt to rekindle the spark from years before. Simon’s play takes place six days into a marriage, which are both the best and worst days in the existence of this relationship – they’ve been together long enough to implicitly understand each other, but not long enough to actually know how to be successfully married. The film isn’t against the institution of marriage, but rather a delightfully wry cautionary tale that focuses on two individuals hopelessly lost in a relationship, proclaiming that absolutely no one knows how to be married, they just make it up as they go along. There’s an emotional catharsis that governs this film, a kind of simple but effective humour that frequently (and boldly) looks beneath the veneer of what is considered the ultimate destination for couples, showing that marriage isn’t necessarily the blissful end of one’s journey, but rather the beginning of an entirely new one. Through Simon’s exceptional and very funny writing, Barefoot in the Park manages to make such bold statements without ever seeming overwrought in how it delivers this message. That is essentially the hallmark of a great comedy, where it can convey the most stark sentiment, but never once lose the sheen of irreverent humour that lingers over it for the duration of the film.

Yet, there’s just something so wonderfully endearing about this film, which traverses some really deep narrative territory while remaining so absolutely delightful from beginning to end. This is the quintessential 1960s romantic comedy, insofar as all the components that made the era such a memorable one for these stories are present. On one hand, it is very traditional – the idea of a heteronormative relationship being standard is present throughout (there’s an off-the-cuff remark by Redford about some of their apparently peculiar neighbours who are “the same sex, but no one knows which one”, which may be seen as regressive), and the idealistic, Rockwell-esque emphasis on traditions is part of the central conflict. On the other, the spirit of progress is clear in every scene – the duality between the free-spirited Corie and the straight-laced Paul is a constant theme, and the film has a lot of fun drawing comparisons between the two, extracting a ton of hilarity from scenarios where their personalities are tested and placed in direct conflict from one another. The 1960s were all about tradition and modernity coming into conflict – in many instances, these were more serious and sobering tales, but it also allowed for some very charming comedies to emerge, Barefoot in the Park being one of the most fascinating. There were always opportunities for this film to dive deeper into the cultural milieu, since it is clearly made by artists who have a firm grasp on the collective pulse – but instead of adding too much detail (which would be interesting, but derail the otherwise charming and lighthearted tone), but Saks keeps it all very refined and simple, which services this film far better than any intensely subversive commentary ever could.

Perhaps it isn’t the pinnacle of either Simon or Saks’ careers, nor the most defining performances of any of the actors, but Barefoot in the Park is nonetheless a charming and diverting romantic comedy that helped set the standard for what the genre could be, and how it can tackle some serious subject matter without needing to be overly concerned with going too in-depth on any of these conversations. Mostly remembered as an early vehicle for Fonda and Redford (both of whom are absolutely magnetic and as charming as ever), Barefoot in the Park manages to accomplish exactly what it set out to do, telling the story of a marriage that is driven by two firmly immovable components – the ferocious pride of two young urban people, and their undying devotion to each other, loving each other so much, their differences in opinion somehow drive them further apart. Not particularly serious, but rather endearing in the way the “swinging Sixties” often were when it came to looking at the trials and tribulations of ordinary people in the major urban centres, the film is a true delight. Whether or not it hits all the intended targets in terms of the social commentary that underpins it is up for debate, but it’s certainly quite obvious that every moment is memorable and well-composed, thought out through a laborious process of making sure what was shown on screen contributed to the central discussion, while not being too overwrought to the point where the fun is diminished. Keeping the balance and making sure that the audience’s enjoyment remains intact are the primary reasons behind the success of Barefoot in the Park, which is as lovely and endearing as one would expect, earning its reputation in every way.