Barbra Streisand's self-absorbed remake of a 1958 French film stars Jeff Bridges as a college professor tired of sexual politics. He makes a deal with a dowdy colleague (Streisand) that they provide companionship for one another, with no thought of getting into bed. She agrees but soon becomes frustrated, the agreement only reinforcing her unfulfilled desire to have a complete relationship with a man. Mimi Rogers is on hand as Babs's striking sister, and Lauren Bacall received an Oscar nomination for her role as the heroine's selfish mother. The film is OK, but it becomes an irritating vanity piece for Streisand (who directed as well as stars). Her character constantly gazes upon her own reflection and is told at least a dozen times, one way or another, just how attractive she is. One wants to shout out, we get it already--you're pretty! The DVD release presents the film in both widescreen and pan and scan versions, plus a Dolby soundtrack. --Tom Keogh
By the way, Jeannie, what do you charge?
Freddie... Aw, Freddie... Aw, Freddie... Aw, no, Freddie... Don't spoil it, Freddie, please.
Spoil what? Honey, I'm game for anything. I just wanna know how much you charge. It's legitimate, isn't it? I know I have to pay. I'm not too schooled in these thngs, but I know that somewhere along the line, your little hand is going to find its way into my pocket. You're shocked, aren't you, old Dickie, old pal? What do you think she is? You think she's some clean towel that's never been used? My God, Dickie, you think you don't pay? How many times a week does Maria ask you for some money? Money, child, is a necessity, and don't you think that you don't work for it and pay for it. My God, what, what is this? He thinks I'm insulting you. I'm offering you. Hell, look, what's the matter? If I went to one of those fancy restaurants, I'd probably tip the headwaiter, the waiter, the busboy, and a hundred bucks goes flying down the drain--and I couldn't have any more fun than I could with Jeannie here.
Do you realize that ex-convicts and jailbirds are the ones that write all the limericks?
Not all of them.
Aw, don't argue with Mr. McCarthy, miss.
Jimmy Arno, he wrote a couple that were really funny. Didn't he, Jeannie?
That's right. He did.
Jimmy Arno? Not the Jimmy Arno?
Do you know him?
Never heard of him.
Like Christ said, you know, Help thy neighbor, man.
He's the one that said that?
Billy Mae, what difference does it make who said it?
What difference does it make who said it? It could've been, uh, it could've been him, it could've been Gandhi, it could've been Buddha, it could've been Spooda, it could've been your daddy, it could've been your mama, it could've been your uh-uh, it could've been your huh-huh... What difference, man?
You know, these dances, these wild crazy dances--I think they've succeeded where science failed. 'Cause you know, I can go to a beauty parlor and sit there for hours having my hair done and my nails polished, but I don't feel any younger. I might look it. These dances, these wild crazy dances--they do something to me inside.