I fully agree with Salsa Boy from San Francisco. I saw this movie last night through the D.C. Jewish Film Festival. Elliott Gould did the best he could with a script that was one-dimensional at best, and, at worst, rehashed the worst sort of Borscht Belt stereotypes (to wit, "We Jews don't paint, we HIRE painters..."). Through most of the movie, I felt like I was watching cartoon characters (awkward girl with low self-esteem; brother who's an insensitive jerk; father who's super kvetchy), though it did get stronger toward the end. The theme--self-discovery and transformation--was a worthy one, but handled clumsily and in eminently disbelievable ways. Both the writer (Wendy Kout) and the great Gould himself spoke and fielded audience questions. I made the mistake of asking Ms. Kout why the characters seemed at times like caricatures, and I was stunned by her response, which I'll quote in its entirety: "You are SO welcome to your opinion." This movie is redeemed a bit by Gould's vulnerability and charm, but his talent is largely squandered in a script penned by a Hollywood hack.
Review of Dorfman in Love
