Despite some horsepower casting, House Calls is overall a silly and uneven comedy about doctors which wants to be as macabre as, say, Hospital, and at the same time as innocuous as a TV sitcom. It manages to be neither.
Walter Matthau, engaging as a middle-aged lech, is one of four stars in the film, herein a newly-widowed medic out to make up for lost infidelity time; Glenda Jackson, divorced from a philanderer, seeks a faithful new mate; Art Carney is a near-senile hospital chief of staff whose mistakes are supposed to be funny but come off as really nasty; Richard Benjamin is a young doctor whose part is essentially to provide plot exposition.
The film is thus a middle-years comedy-romance vehicle [story by Max Shulman and Julius J. Epstein] for Matthau and Jackson, latter in her first made-in-Hollywood project and appearing none too comfortable either; the lightness of her A Touch of Class Oscar-winning performance is gone.
Carney also huffs and puffs his way uncomfortably through an unsympathetic part. Benjamin relaxes and Matthau seems mellow enough.