The Owl and the Pussycat

Adaptation of the Broadway play casts George Segal as an uptight New York City book-clerk who hopes to be a writer but can't get anything published; after calling the landlord one night on prostitute-neighbor Barbra Streisand, he finds her on his doorstep. She tells him she's a model and an actress--her third time on TV is in front of the elevator security camera! The two lovable losers banter back and forth before falling into uncertain love, and you could say the film is either nicely devoid of major plot devices or is an exceptionally thin romantic comedy. Streisand, her Brooklynese so thick she sometimes lapses into Cockney, wears tacky, hilarious hooker-outfits, but her shrillness isn't modulated (at least not in the first act) and she can sometimes be grating. The sex-talk is dated now, and the picture tends to look like a relic from a bygone era, yet it's an often funny film about opposites. Although too soft in its final scenes, director Herbert Ross changes speeds enough to keep things bubbling, even though his rhythm may put some viewers off. *** from ****