An ad-agency workaholic (female) inherits an infant from her only living -- but now dead -- relative. The feminist movement would seem to have made great strides when a woman can be portrayed as being the equal in parental ineptitude of the men in, say, Three Men and a Cradle or -- a closer reference point in some ways -- Kramer vs. Kramer. The cute-baby stuff is not too teeth-rotting, and Diane Keaton is very good in the manner of the old-time (Jean Arthur-time, Katharine Hepburn-time) film star who knows very well what she's very good at and is going to be very sure she gets to do it. But the contemporariness of the material (the enrollment into The Center for Brighter Babies, for example) suffers a setback, or really a switch to a whole new track, when the heroine vacates New York City in favor of Vermont. The movie then turns into city-slicker-in-the-sticks and all but forgets about Baby, and it begins to look more blatantly as if (what's been true all along) it were just patched together from scraps of a lot of old movies. With Sam Shepard and Harold Ramis; directed by Charles Shyer. (1987) — Duncan Shepherd
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