by Michael Momper

A good romantic comedy not only has you laughing, it also says something edifying about human relationships. It should reach beyond the low-hanging fruit of vulgar bedroom jokes to instead amuse us with the love-struck antics of its protagonist(s) in a way that bolsters one’s belief in the goodness of a romantic relationship. And like a loving relationship, a good romantic comedy has no love affair with cynicism, nihilism, meanness, or cruelty. Within this framework of comedy that uplifts and is life affirming, there remains room to tackle difficult questions, and Billy Wilder’s 1960 masterpiece The Apartment does just that, perhaps more skillfully than any other romantic comedy ever made.

The story follows C.C. Baxter (played by Jack Lemmon), an insurance clerk who lends his apartment to higher-ups at his company for their extramarital affairs. This seedy side-hustle gets Mr. Baxter the promotions he desires, but his conscience soon sounds the alarm as he realizes the very real human cost of his actions. Wilder’s superb script is uproariously funny at times and certainly laid the groundwork for many films to come. But it also deftly explored two major themes we can unpack in a Catholic framework: ambition and sacrificial love.

Baxter’s ambition is certainly the driving force for his scandalous practice, and Wilder uses images of keys and thresholds to convey his willingness to “deal with the devil.” Jeff Sheldrake, the head of personnel at Baxter’s company, is devilish in how he uses women across the company in his own extra-marital affairs and how he routinely offers Baxter rewards for access to the apartment key. As Baxter continually steps over this threshold, he steps on the countless women being used and thrown away by the company’s powerful men.

This exploration of ambition at all costs is constantly thought-provoking, and it recalls other film classics that tackled this theme. It’s A Wonderful Life does so through the character of Mr. Potter, a real estate mogul in a small town who attempts to coax good and honest people into raw deals to satisfy his own avarice. Consider Winston Churchill in Darkest Hour, where he refused to cooperate with evil and take the easy route to pleasing Parliament. Baxter eventually discovers this: if he wants to find love, if he wants to feel whole, he can no longer compromise with evil and let the devil in the door.

While the company men slink in the mire of romantic trysts, it becomes clear that only contempt is left in their wake. Their wives are betrayed, their mistresses left unfulfilled and vengeful, and all the women are used, lied to, and then discarded. This awakens a disgust in Baxter that finally animates him to question his decisions. The only antidote to this type of lust is sacrificial love. Love cannot be parasitic consumption. The higher-ups in Baxter’s office use these women as objects of lust, as stress-relievers, as clandestine delights soon to be shut away. The women are consumed, made to sacrifice themselves for the quick enjoyment of the powerful. This is not only a direct inversion of the love shown in every Eucharistic sacrifice, it also flagrantly violates St. Thomas Aquinas’ principle to love others by “willing their good as other.”

Love is necessarily sacrificial; it requires a denial of self. In St. Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, he implores the people to “walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” When love is discussed in Scripture, it is always tied to sacrifice and service of others—if we use another person for our selfish enjoyment or as a steppingstone to a coveted promotion, we violate this required stewardship. And after all, for what good does it profit a man to gain the world, but lose his soul?

               So, this season, revel in the truths that you can ponder from The Apartment and watch it, because, like its amusing poster says, “There is little like it… love-wise, laugh-wise, or otherwise-wise!”

This article appeared in the February 2026 edition of The Catholic Telegraph Magazine. For your complimentary subscription, click here.