Romantic comedy about a man who's sworn off women after two of them have taken him to the litigious cleaners, and a woman (made to order for such a man) who's physiologically unable to tell a lie without a giveaway eyelid tic. He's a successful novelist, she's a would-be painter who can't finish any paintings -- other than those at her nine-to-five job doing assembly-line landscapes for hotel walls ("The Fresno Hilton doesn't want interesting; they want matching"). Movies about artists of whatever type can generally be counted on to be funny, even if not for the reasons intended. But this movie, not funny for any reasons, is too preoccupied with the issue of romance, or rather with how money clouds the issue, to profit much from the artistic angle. (And money certainly does cloud it: the movie seems to want to argue that money doesn't matter, but that's easily said once both parties' pockets are lined with the stuff.) Sally Field is as cute and perky as ever, while being further than ever past the optimum age for cuteness and perkiness. Michael Caine helps her out in those departments, as if she needed any, simply by towering over her. That's one definition of overqualification. With Steve Guttenberg; written and directed by Jerry Belson. (1987) — Duncan Shepherd
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