The boundary between loneliness and being alone is so narrow, yet they can result in profoundly different emotions and experiences. Many artists have attempted to use their canvas of choice to create an image of what it feels like to be truly lonely, since it is one of those universal experiences that affects all of us in some way or another, even if it is sometimes to different extents. This is something that Christopher Columbus set out to explore in Only the Lonely, a film that immediately indicates what it intends to tackle from the first moment we glimpse the title. Written as a reworked, comedic version of Paddy Chayefsky’s masterpiece Marty (one of the definitive pieces of American literature, and a work that has proven to be exceptionally effective, whether it is in film, television or stage adaptations), the film follows a few months in the life of a Chicago police officer who lives a pleasant but uneventful life, but finds it thrown into joyful disarray when he encounters the beguiling daughter of a local funeral director, and discovering that she is just as lonely as he is, the two kindred souls fall in love – but his overbearing mother stands in the way of their budding relationship, leading to a challenging series of encounters that change the way our protagonist views the surrounding world. Made alongside Columbus’ friend and frequent artistic collaborator John Hughes, who once again proves that he had a keen eye for these simple, evocative comedies about everyday people and their deeply personal challenges, Only the Lonely proves to be a lovable, entertaining comedy with a lot of heart and soul, and a quiet complexity that is not often shown, but rather sets the tone for what is quite a lovely experience. Never anything particularly serious, but still endearing enough to hold our attention, the film proves to be a delight in many ways. Granted, it does require us to temper our expectations ever so slightly to match the tone of the film, but it is nevertheless a delight.

Only the Lonely represents a very specific kind of comedy, one that takes a more dramatic or complex premise (in this case, it’s Marty, serving to be very heavily influenced by its narrative and overarching themes) and filters them through a more comedic structure. The premise is exceptionally simple, and if we look at it from a distance, the structure is clear – a lovable protagonist is torn between his overbearing mother and the woman with whom he has fallen in love, with most of the humour being derived from the arising tensions that come about as a result of the bickering and inability to agree in some form. It’s not particularly complex storytelling, but there’s a spark of incredible charm that underpins the film, and we find that many of its best moments are those in which Columbus is relying on that specific kind of humour that is somewhere between enchanting and self-deprecatory, which works quite well for a story built on such a straightforward premise. The director uses these ideas to comment on several resonant themes – the relationship between parents and their children (especially the challenges that come when a parent doesn’t realize that their offspring have grown up, and cannot be sheltered for much longer), the struggles, both psychological and emotional, that come with loneliness (especially when the reasons for someone being unable to hold a romantic relationship comes down to factors such as physical appearance, something this film elegantly addresses without resorting to needlessly mean fat jokes) and the experience of finding someone special enough to surrender all of our inhibitions and simply fall madly in love with them, not worried about the consequences. It’s not particularly revolutionary filmmaking, but it’s certainly not without its broader merits when it comes to addressing certain issues with tact and a genuine sense of empathy.

A regular collaborator of both Columbus and Hughes, casting John Candy as the central protagonist in Only the Lonely seemed like a deeply obvious choice. No one was able to capture that very distinct combination of effortless charm and lovable foolishness quite like Candy, and throughout his career, he was cast in several films that made use of his distinct frame and magnetic screen presence. Playing the part of the down-on-his-luck police officer searching for love, Candy is actually unexpectedly subdued – he is still very funny, but the humour all comes from his delivery, and for once he plays the straight man to a more eccentric supporting cast, which is a good change of pace, and a firm reminder that he was a genuinely talented actor with a strong, soul-stirring style of performing, which he brings to this film without a moment’s hesitation. His two sparring partners are exceptionally well-cast as well – Ally Sheedy (reuniting with Hughes after her breakout performance in The Breakfast Club) plays the object of our protagonist’s affection, while the legendary Maureen O’Hara, who was brought out of retirement to play this role, is his mother. The two actors are extraordinary, and develop such strong chemistry with Candy, making their interactions the most memorable part of the film, and the main reason Only the Lonely works so well, despite some of the slight limitations that we find scattered throughout. The performances in a Columbus and Hughes film are rarely the weakest part, and this film continues the tradition of givign great actors, whether comedically-inclined or not, some very good work to do, and asking them to participate in these delightful and endearing comedies that are both compelling and interesting, which is a proven formula that has given many actors some exceptionally good work.

Something that we do notice in many Columbus films is an oversaturated sense of sentimentality, and we ultimately need to know what we are getting ourselves into when seeing one of his films. He’s a good writer and filmmaker, but both he and Hughes are notorious for their liberal use of emotions, which can sometimes be viewed as heavy-handed and overly sappy, which has been the source of a lot of praise (particularly by those who consider their work to be comfort films more than serious art), but also a lot of criticism. In a film like Only the Lonely, the scale tips slightly more towards the overwrought emotions, and we find that the film can spend too much time trying to inform us on how we are supposed to feel about these characters, much more than offering us a deeper and more nuanced work on the subject. Understandably, no one wants a hard-hitting, socially-conscious realist drama about an overweight cop finding love with a funeral director’s daughter (or at least we don’t request this from a director known for his lovely and effervescent comedies), so everything is tempered to the tone that Columbus constantly employed in his films, even if it meant that he lost out on quite a bit of promising content by choosing to go the obvious route. We don’t go to a film like Only the Lonely for the most nuanced commentary, but rather to feel something, even if those emotions are manufactured to an inch of their lives. At his peak, he made these lush, warm comedies that disregarded the desire to do something different, and instead embraced convention in an oddly charming way, and while it may not come close to the films he made at his peak, Columbus’ work is still lovely enough to hold our attention, at least until we can spot some of the more meaningful ideas embedded deep within the story.

There was a time when Columbus’s name was viewed as being the very metric on which family-friendly entertainment should be measured. Unfortunately, his diminished output, coupled with the lack of critical or commercial appeal that accompanies his more recent films, has meant that he is viewed as a relic of the past. Much of the brilliance behind his direction comes from the relationship he had with Hughes, so it’s hardly surprising that his best work are those made in collaboration with his late partner and friend. This means that, despite being a comparatively minor work in comparison to other films they made together, Only the Lonely has the same charm and captivating appeal that underpinned all of their collaborations, and while it certainly is far from perfect in many ways, it has a genuine sense of wonder that is difficult to dismiss entirely, especially when it becomes clear that there is a real compassion underpinning this film. It’s a lovely comedy that feels authentically romantic – the relationship between Candy and Sheedy is superbly well-developed and feels real – as well as having some heartfelt moments in which we see the characters reflect on their own individual journeys, which coalesce into some wonderfully sweet, rousing storytelling. Nothing particularly serious (but it never claimed to be), and driven by humour and heart, Only the Lonely is a lovely film that knows how to have fun and pluck at the heartstrings, which it does often in tandem, proving to be a delightful, if not genuinely quite moving, little comedy with an abundance of soul and a lot of love for its characters and what they represent.