This film is not as bad as Leonard Maltin claims, in his much-read movie book, but it does lack a lot, beginning with the script. The film consists of more than two hours of a couple of writers, somehow in love with each other but unable or unwilling to marry, fussing, fighting, and shouting. And in the end, even though their sexual escapade proved less than thrilling, they end in a clinch on a couch. Happing ending. The film is not very romantic and certainly isn't funny. The moral dimensions of the script are wholly secular and consistently depressing. Marriage and children are nothing when compared to sexual urges, booze, and fame.
But there are some good lines in places. And the acting is superb. Dudley Moore and Mary Steenburgen are something to behold. The music is above average, and Arthur Hiller displays his usual excellence as a director. But even the stars of the film were unable to put life into a lame script that is at least 30 minutes too long.