Wrinkly romance between Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson, both of whom fudge a bit on their ages (she, when she estimates herself to be "almost" twenty years older than an explicit thirty-six-year-old; and he, when he holds up three fingers to indicate how far he is past sixty), but both of whom have resisted any surgical stretching of their skins to a trampoline tautness. The self-caricaturing stylization of the stars' mannerisms, the luxury of their lifestyles (hers as "the most successful female playwright since -- who? Lillian Hellman?" and his as the head of the second largest hip-hop record label), and the creaminess of the cinematography (Michael Ballhaus), all conspire to eat away at the purported humanness of the characters. In addition to which, the movie appears, beneath the surface, to be as much about revenge as about romance: writer and director Nancy Meyers (What Women Want, a more telltale title than the all-purpose present one) opening up the whole older-man-younger-woman can of worms, giving the man a boudoir heart attack for starters (before he can consummate relations with his current companion, Amanda Peet, Keaton's daughter: consummation would have been altogether too wormy), giving the audience three separate shots of his heinie in a hospital dressing gown, giving the woman a tit-for-tat -- or perhaps that ought to be tat-for-tit -- younger suitor in the bargain (Nicholson's cardiologist, Keanu Reeves, fudging a bit himself as the aforementioned thirty-six-year-old), giving the man an earful to think about (a dinner-table diatribe by Keaton's sister, the anomalous Frances McDormand as a Columbia professor of Women's Studies), filling his eyes with nearly as many tears as the woman's. The sexual politicking and posturing do tend to get in the way of the comedy. But with that said, let it also be said that this is at all levels a polished and professional piece of work, and pleasant enough to sit through for the starry-eyed or the brown-nosed. (2003) — Duncan Shepherd
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