Seashore romance, lusciously photographed by Philip Lathrop, and, despite some large improbabilities and larger embarrassments, classically crafted by writer-director Jane Wagner. The woman in the affair is Lily Tomlin, a well-to-do Malibu matron who behaves like a candidate for Geritol, displays a personal (or political) preference for bra-less fashions, and has a soft spot for dogs, both canine and human. The man is John Travolta, a stray dog from Sunset Strip whose panting pursuit of this Older Woman exudes all the confidence of having his affections returned that you would expect to find in someone who considers himself the leading screen sex symbol of 1978. Their unconventional courtship entails a lot of earnest discussion of "cheap sex," "meaningful relationships," and "commitment." Nothing in the writing of the two principal roles suggests that these people are anything more than walking-talking clichés, but the "star quality" of the players individualizes and glamorizes them (Travolta proves beyond a doubt that his acting range extends as easily to California mellow as to New York crass). You can see a potential Dorothy Parker-ish subject behind these two Hollywood luminaries, but you can't get at it. As it is played, this movie is purely what is known in kids' parlance as "mushy stuff." (1978) — Duncan Shepherd
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