In the history of undeserving Oscar winners, Jack Lemmon’s Best Actor victory for Save the Tiger often gets lumped with the forgettable crowd. That’s a shame, because while John G. Avildsen’s (The Karate Kid) 1973 character study may falter as complete filmmaking, Lemmon delivers a tour de force that ranks among his finest dramatic work. This is an actor stripping away decades of comedic persona to expose the raw nerve of mid-century American masculinity in crisis.

Harry Stoner (Lemmon, The China Syndrome) represents the endangered species of his generation – a World War II veteran whose heroism feels increasingly meaningless in Nixon-era America. Lemmon inhabits his garment district executive with uncomfortable authenticity, a man whose business teeters on bankruptcy while his psyche crumbles under the weight of survivor’s guilt and moral compromise. When Harry contemplates arson to collect insurance money, we’re watching the slow-motion collapse of the American Dream’s last believer.

Avildsen, three years before Rocky would make him a household name, crafts an intentionally claustrophobic experience. Save the Tiger unfolds over two suffocating days in Harry’s life, following him through Los Angeles like a fever dream of urban alienation. The director’s indie sensibilities serve the material well – this feels genuinely grimy and desperate, not sanitized for mainstream consumption. At a lean $1 million budget, every dollar appears on screen in the film’s authentic locations and performances that feel like they’ve been wrung out of the actors.

The episodic structure proves both blessing and curse. Avildsen drops us into Harry’s deteriorating world without exposition, trusting audiences to piece together his fractured mental state. Steve Shagan‘s Oscar-nominated screenplay delivers moments of searing insight, particularly in Harry’s exchanges with his business partner Phil Greene (Jack Gilford, Cocoon). Gilford matches Lemmon’s intensity beat for beat, creating a fascinating dynamic between two men watching their shared dream implode. Their arguments crackle with the desperation of drowning men fighting over a life preserver, with one man thinking he deserves to be saved and another wondering why he’s never looking out for himself first.

Yet the film’s day-in-the-life approach ultimately works against its dramatic momentum. We observe Harry’s decline without sufficient narrative propulsion, leading to an ending that feels more like resignation than resolution. The screenplay’s greatest strength – its unflinching psychological realism – becomes a liability when the story simply peters out rather than building to catharsis.

Kino Lorber‘s new Blu-ray presentation, sourced from a pristine 4K scan of the original camera negative, represents a significant upgrade for this overlooked gem. The image quality reveals textures and details that previous home video releases couldn’t capture – from the sweat beading on Lemmon’s forehead to the faded glamour of downtown Los Angeles circa 1973. The transfer preserves the film’s grainy, documentary-like aesthetic while delivering remarkable clarity and color reproduction.

The primary extra is an engaging commentary track featuring Avildsen and Shagan, ported from the 2005 DVD, where both men speak candidly about the production’s challenges and their warm rapport makes for compelling listening. Both men have since passed away so it’s a gift to be able to listen to them converse over a film they obviously have a huge fondness for.  A second commentary by film historian Dwayne Epstein offers additional perspective, though it tends toward encyclopedic detail rather than deeper analysis. While Kino couldn’t secure the additional supplements, including interviews, from Imprint’s 2022 release, this superior transfer makes it the definitive version for newcomers.

Lemmon’s performance deserves particular recognition for its fearless commitment to unlikability. Harry isn’t a tragic hero – he’s a morally compromised businessman whose nostalgia for his baseball-obsessed youth masks deeper psychological wounds. Lemmon strips away every trace of his lovable everyman persona, creating a character study that feels decades ahead of its time. This is the kind of toxic masculinity examination that wouldn’t become commonplace until the prestige television era.

The supporting cast, led by Gilford’s conflicted accountant and hippie Myra (Laurie Heineman, Spotlight), provides crucial counterpoints to Harry’s tunnel vision. Heineman, in particular, delivers a naturalistic performance that captures the cultural shifts of early ’70s America. Her character serves as both Harry’s potential salvation and a reminder of the authentic connections he’s abandoned in pursuit of material success.

Save the Tiger may not achieve the full dramatic impact its subject matter demands, but it succeeds as an uncompromising time capsule of American disillusionment. Lemmon’s willingness to excavate his character’s darkest impulses elevates the material beyond its structural limitations. For collectors of challenging ’70s cinema, this Kino release offers the definitive way to experience a film that dared to show the American Dream’s hangover in unforgiving detail.

You can buy the film directly from KinoLorber here.