This movie is simply horrible. Something closely akin to morbid curiosity kept me watching it until the end, despite the fact that I knew within the first minute that it was going be nauseous. I can't believe that Suzanne Pleshette, Debbie Reynolds and Courteney Cox, all of whom I like very much, would ever have involved themselves in anything so very, very bad.
The script made Pleshette's and Reynolds' jobs impossible. The poor things probably did the best they could with the material they had to work with, but that material led inevitably to silly histrionics from Pleshette (as International Musical Glamour Queen) and hokey cutesiness from Reynolds (as Bubbly Hairdresser Who Wears Tacky Clothes). Courteney Cox was fortunate that her character was far more believable, and she was likeable in her role. English actor Leigh Lawson provided another oasis of realism, portraying Pleshette's conductor and love interest.
The worst thing about the story is that, early in the movie, the viewer is given misleading information regarding the relationship between the two main characters. That early misleading information is credible, but what turns out to be the true back story, which we discover only near the end, is ridiculous. The second worst thing about it is the absurdly improbable web of relationships between the characters, which grows more and more laughable as the movie progresses. And the third worst thing about it is that it goes to pathetic lengths in its melodramatic attempts at heart-strings-tugging. I lost count of how many times I rolled my eyes.
I actually recommended that a close friend of mine watch this film just to see how bad it is. It is to movies what high kitsch is to home decor. Poodle lamp, anybody?
