Further lengthening an already lengthy rut, Robert Altman again takes his source material, if not exactly his "inspiration," from a theater piece, in this case Christopher Durang's comedy about a match made through the Personals of New York Magazine. And then he brings to it that same offhanded style, that disinclination to hit any nail on the head, that air of constant distraction, that diffuseness indistinguishable from inattention. All this combines, as before, to smooth out any differences of content or artistic merit between the plays -- no matter whether Sam Shepard's Fool for Love or the one-man Richard M. Nixon impersonation, Secret Honor -- and converts each of them into a horizonless yawning wasteland. At least no one can accuse Altman of courting the easy laugh -- or any other kind, either. Tom Conti puts on a funny Italian accent as a psychiatrist with the very Anglo name of Stuart Framingham; and Christopher Guest puts on a funny stereotyped homosexual falsetto; and Jeff Goldblum puts on some funny clothes as the latter's bisexual lover -- but never so funny as to elicit any audible or visible signs of mirth. With Julie Hagerty and Glenda Jackson. (1987) — Duncan Shepherd
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