This movie is, both literally and figuratively, a lame chick flic. It is remembered today, if at all, for its star, Kristy McNichol, having some sort of a nervous breakdown during filming so that it took over a year for it, mercifully, to conclude. Can't say that I blame Ms. McNichol. I too would go to pieces if I was presented with Allan (Where are you when I need you, Jim Brooks?) Burns' screenplay with its reliance on polio double entendre jokes and scenes where the main character is worried that her future father in law's fly is opened or where a French doctor takes time out for patients who really need him to do needless cosmetic surgery on Ms. McNichols' leg so that she can hang at a ski resort without feeling self conscious. And we're supposed to regard him as delightfully French instead of smarmily unethical. Yes, It's that kind of film. Give it a C minus.
Review of Just the Way You Are
