The men in this film seem to spend all their time discussing their sex lives with each other (don't they even discuss that old man-talk specialty, sports, or even wonder if it's going to rain?). The women discuss this, and their relationships part-time, when they aren't being turned off by the men (I must say I can't blame them). The personages are just what you would expect in a "with-it" film about sex and love in the 90s, and as predictable as the Harlequins and Columbines of the Commoedia dell'Arte; the husband cheating on his wife, the wife cheating on her husband, the woman who discovers she's a lesbian, the jock who discovers he's impotent, etc. etc. etc.
The dialog is flat and repetitious, sort of Pinter without the talent. It takes no mean talent to make sex dull and tedious, but the creators of this dreadful little opus have done just that.
For a realistic and witty slice of life, you're probably better off with the Marx Brothers.
The dialog is flat and repetitious, sort of Pinter without the talent. It takes no mean talent to make sex dull and tedious, but the creators of this dreadful little opus have done just that.
For a realistic and witty slice of life, you're probably better off with the Marx Brothers.