Garry Marshall (Pretty Woman) directs the screen adaptation of Terence McNally's play Frankie and Johnny at the Clair de Lune, the story of a short-order cook (Al Pacino) who drives a waitress (Michelle Pfeiffer) crazy with his adamant courtship and mixed messages. The film is okay and not much more than that, the major stumbling block being Marshall's failure to scrub away enough star veneer on Pacino and Pfeiffer to accept them as minimum-wage drones with nowhere to go but toward each other. Fortunately, Marshall's feel for the texture offered by supporting players--Hector Elizondo as a café owner, Nathan Lane as Pfeiffer's inevitably gay neighbor-buddy, Kate Nelligan as another lonely waitress--keeps things interesting enough. --Tom Keogh
Now, there's a man and a woman. He's a cook. She's a waitress. Now, they meet and they don't connect. Only, she noticed him. He could feel it. And he noticed her. And they both knew it was going to happen. They made love, and for maybe one whole night, they forgot the 10 million things that make people think, I don't love this person, I don't like this person, I don't know this- Instead, it was perfect, and they were perfect. And that's all there was to know about. Only now, she's beginning to forget all that, and pretty soon he's going to forget it too.
Why do you want to kill yourself sometimes?
I want to kill myself sometimes when I think that I'm the only person in the world and that part of me that feels that way is trapped inside this body, that only bumps into other bodies, without ever connecting to the only other person in the world trapped inside of them. We have to connect. We just have to.
You don't have to be afraid anymore.
I am. I'm afraid. I'm afraid to be alone, I'm afraid not to be alone. I'm afraid of what I am, what I'm not, what I might become, what I might never become. I don't want to stay at my job for the rest of my life but I'm afraid to leave. And I'm just tired, you know, I'm just so tired of being afraid.