He based an entire career on snarls, grimaces and pouts. And we laughed with him all the way.
He was Walter Matthau, half of one of the most successful film duos of all time. Matthau, who died July 1 at the age of 79 as a result of a heart attack, enjoyed nearly four decades of stage and screen glory.
Matthau was born in New York City on Oct. 1, 1920, to poor Jewish immigrants. His mother raised him after his father abandoned the family when Matthau was only three years old. The family moved often when they could not afford their rent. At the age of 11, Matthau sold concessions in a Yiddish theater and did bit parts for spare change.
After serving as a radio operator and cryptographer in Europe in the Army Air Corps during World War II, Matthau used his G.I. benefits to study at the New School's Dramatic Workshop. After working his way up the theater circuit during the 1950s, he appeared as a Parisian aristocrat in "A Shot in the Dark" on Broadway, and won a Tony Award.
Matthau's landmark year was 1965, the year he created the role of Oscar Madison, the bedraggled sportswriter in Neil Simon's "The Odd Couple." Simon credited Matthau's rumpled persona and ironic wit as the genesis for Oscar, though Matthau, it is said, begged to play Oscar, Felix's fussy roommate. The role garnered Matthau a second Tony.
"He was the most instinctive actor I've ever seen," Simon has said.
That following year, Matthau won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor for his role in "The Fortune Cookie." With characteristic candor, Matthau shrugged off the honor. "I'd just had a heart attack, and they wanted to give me their little award before I went to my great reward," he said.
When "The Odd Couple" became a movie, Matthau reprised his role, but this time played the part opposite Jack Lemmon. The pair ultimately appeared on screen together nearly a dozen times, including the more recent "Grumpy Old Men" movies and "Out to Sea."
Though he also played the romantic lead in popular films like "Cactus Flower" and "Hello, Dolly!," Matthau defied conventional movie star looks completely, with his worn-in looking face, perpetual frown and slouch. Regardless of how refined his character was supposed to be, he always appeared as though he had slept in his clothes. But his style suited him to a tee, and supported his natural timing. Matthau always underplayed his roles, perfecting the slow burn and the double take.
Matthau enjoyed two major film successes in the 1970s, "The Bad News Bears" and "The Sunshine Boys." In the latter film, Matthau played part of an old comedy team opposite the late George Burns.
"Walter doesn't need funny lines," Burns said at the time. "He's fearless, no inhibitions. If you want him to play soprano, or be a toe dancer, he'd do it."
In a 1981 interview, Matthau stated, "Comedy should be shaped very seriously and should have an emotional foundation, evoke genuine laughter and then provide some insight."
Contrary to most actors, Matthau claimed that he liked film work better than the theater.
"Doing a play is like having a seven-course meal, but a movie is like eating a lot of hors d'oeuvres. You get filled up, but you're never quite satisfied."
Other attempts to satisfy audiences eager for laughs in the 1990s included "I.Q.," which saw Matthau playing Albert Einstein; "The Grass Harp" (directed by son Charlie); and his last movie, "Hanging Up." In that prophetic film, he played a dying father.
Matthau's success seemed effortless on screen. In comedy, he never tried to be funny, and in tragedy, he never tried to be sad. He never delivered lines, he simply spoke; he never gave a performance; he just was. And now he no longer is. But as with so many other movie legends, Matthau lives on forever in film, ensuring laughter for generations to come.
So thanks for the laughs, Mr. Matthau. And thanks for the snarls as well.