This is the story of a summer romance across social castes. Richard Benjamin 
  plays Neil, a lower middle class Jewish man in his mid twenties who lives in 
  the Bronx with his aunt and uncle. He hits on and somehow manages to land, at 
  least for the summer, a beautiful, nouveau riche Jewish-American princess 
  (Brenda, played by Ali MacGraw in her break-out role) from Westchester. He 
  manages to pull off this coup by being just aggressive enough to try, and just 
  funny enough to amuse her.
 
 
 
 
  Throughout the relationship he remains hopeful that he can somehow fit into 
  her life, but he's a skeptic by nature, and he never really trusts that the 
  relationship can work. Her mother doesn't want her hanging around with a 
  unambitious librarian who has a sarcastic tongue and a permanent case of anomie, 
  and Neil himself never really feels comfortable in the meretricious affluence of her 
  environs.
 
 
 
 
  Their summer romance becomes physical, and she acquires a diaphragm because 
  she has a bad reaction to the pill. Mother finds the diaphragm ...
 
 
 
 
  Huh? This is 1969. The era of free love. Everyone was having sex then, 
  weren't they? Why would the diaphragm be such a big deal?
 
 
 
 
  Well ...
 
 
 
 
  This was a dated film even when it was new. It came out the same year as 
  Easy Rider, but the story seems to take place ten years earlier. It was in 
  every way an old-fashioned Hollywood film, not a product of the cultural 
  revolution. That makes perfect sense if you realize that the screenplay was 
  adapted from a novel by Philip Roth, and his story originally took place in 
  the late fifties. That is exactly when the film's story seems to unfold, even 
  though two characters identify themselves as Dartmouth '64 and Dartmouth '66. 
  If you just pretend Goodbye, Columbus was made in and takes place in 1959 
  instead of 1969, it will all seem more sensible.
 
 
 
 
  Despite its retro nature, this movie was quite well respected in its time. 
  The directors' guild nominated it for its annual prize, as did the writers' 
  guild. The writers went a step further and awarded the film its trophy for the 
  best adapted screenplay, a plaudit resounding enough to earn the film the 
  corresponding Oscar nomination. It was also nominated for three BAFTAs and 
  three Golden Globes, including a nod from both societies to Ali MacGraw as the 
  most promising newcomer. 
 
 
 
 
  MacGraw was not originally supposed to get the role. She was a 30-year-old 
  model who had never acted, and the Brenda character was a college student, so 
  the part had already been awarded to Lesley Ann Warren, who was more than 
  eight years younger. Ms. Warren's unexpected pregnancy forced a late casting 
  change, and Ali MacGraw was the alternate, despite her age. Ali always played 
  characters significantly younger than she actually was, so you may be 
  surprised to learn that she will turn 70 in April!
 
 
 
 
  This success of this film pushed MacGraw into Love Story, which in turn 
  drove her to fame. She actually became more famous as one of the "beautiful 
  people" than as an actress. She actually only made ten films in her life, 
  spanning a period of 34 years, but she was always in the thick of the tabloid 
  scene in Hollywood since she was married to both a studio head (Robert Evans) 
  and a cultural icon (Steve McQueen). Evans was the head of production at 
  Paramount and was developing two prestige productions for Ali when she split 
  to take up with McQueen. She was to have been Daisy in The Great Gatsby and 
  Evelyn in Chinatown.
 
 
 
 
  Back to Goodbye, Columbus ...
 
 
 
 
  They made a different kind of movie then. It's kind of small and personal 
  and quirky and it sort of ends in the middle. Kind of like life itself. That 
  was the point. It was Roth writing about what life was really like for him and 
  the people he knew in those days. He drew the characters as realistically as 
  he could, and let his own alter ego deliver enough witty remarks and stinging 
  commentary to keep the unembellished reality from getting boring.