Sam (Matthew Broderick) is the reasonable man in a crazy urban world, the man of thoughtfulness and refined taste in a landscape of Leroy Neiman paintings and beer commercials. The guy would sooner cook for an hour over a hot stove than say `supersize it.__APOS__
By day he__APOS__s a store clerk in an upscale gourmet eatery, and these scenes raise a smile, especially for anyone who__APOS__s visited the actual chain in New York City -- the portrayal isn__APOS__t far off from the reality. Our man is besieged by hoards of customers who want their imported French cheese cut to impossibly exact standards. His efforts to remain outwardly polite (while you know he__APOS__d like to take the cleaver to the relentless clientele) are pretty funny, and will warm the hearts of clerks everywhere. In general, Broderick is in good form and provides the movie with most of whatever lightness it possesses.
Sciorra__APOS__s lovelorn dental hygienist, Ellen, is fine enough, too, and her unknowing interaction with our cheese-slicing hero shows some hopeful chemistry, and you may begin to feel you want to see these two get together.
One of the main competitors for our lady__APOS__s affections, a stockbroker (Kevin Anderson), is played as caricature: he__APOS__s the beer swilling frat-boy whose idea of after-sex sensitivity is flipping on the football game. He__APOS__s kind of funny at times, but the movie might be stronger if he was written or acted for us to like him more, instead of having us merely recognize him as the flat-out `wrong__APOS__ guy in comparison to Broderick__APOS__s sensitive man. Think of John Candy in Splash, taking a cigarette and beer can to the racquetball game; we know his lifestyle is not the one our hero should emulate, but we can__APOS__t help but be charmed by the likeable goon. Whereas this character is merely a goon, and pretty unlikable all around.
While it__APOS__s a nice enough light movie for the first half, for me the story was somewhat derailed by its unbelievable (Hollywood) presentation of sex and adultery. (SPOILER AHEAD, skip to next paragraph.) When Ellen returns home after an evening__APOS__s misadventures, she is naturally faced with the questioning husband (Michael Mantell). Quickly admitting her own indiscretion, she then immediately turns the situation around, demanding to know why the guy had gone ahead and bought a house without discussing it. Granted, it__APOS__s a valid issue, and granted, many people use this countering maneuver in arguments. What__APOS__s unbelievable is what happens next: the guy starts responding to her question, addressing the house-issue in a quiet, thoughtful manner. WHOA. You__APOS__d be hard pressed to find a married person in the world who, when faced with his/her partner__APOS__s totally unexpected adultery, would be ready to address anything so calmly. The guy would surely be bouncing off the walls, or else crushed into silence and tears - but see, then we might actually feel for the poor schnook, and we__APOS__d see Sciorra__APOS__s character in a poor light. And since that particular audience reaction doesn__APOS__t serve the romantic comedy, the story tries to sneak around it. You may start to feel that, like the husband, you__APOS__re being taken.
Further dissatisfaction is just around the corner in the ending. We realize this is where misunderstandings will get sorted out, and our couple will finally see a clear path to one another. We want the satisfaction of rooting for them. But it__APOS__s marred by another unbelievable character reaction, followed by an abrupt conclusion that feels rushed and forced, too easy and unearned. You may feel as though the movie__APOS__s cheating on you again...
