We see lots of romantic comedies, and this one has left the most rancid aftertaste since Moonstruck or one of the ones with Hugh Grant. It is artificial and contrived, as well as simultaneously polemical and narcissistic. We stayed with it for one reason only: Jeff Bridges. His performance is in fact whole-hearted and engaging, even though he is given a character upon whose implausibility the entire film depends. Streisand's limitations as an actress are painful to watch, and Bacall somehow seems aware that she is playing her part in a Streisand vanity project. The actress cast as Streisand's sister (the pretty one of the two), is not really beautiful enough to justify Streisand's character's angst, which makes it all even more fishy, as does the paper cut out role given Pierce Brosnan.