In prime 1970s fashion, the beginning of this movie, as well as many scene transitions, are shown with long shots, awkward zooms, lengthy silences, and random cuts. During the first ten minutes, I wondered what I was getting myself in for, besides two solid hours of Al Pacino eye candy. The good news is my hobby of staring at beautiful people on the screen won out, and I was rewarded by a really beautiful film . . . and two solid hours of Al Pacino eye candy.
Ladies, this is what a chick click looked like in the 1970s. A closed-off, cold racecar driver can't resist the kooky, outspoken woman he meets by chance, and his soul learns about love and life. If your boyfriend sits through this movie with you, keep him. There's nothing manly about this movie, even including the very brief racing scene and the presence of Al Pacino.
Somehow, director Sydney Pollack knew exactly what women in 1977 wanted to see and filmed it. Even despite the 1970s camera angles and the European pacing, this movie resonates with women. Every woman wants to meet a man who's lost his passion for life; every woman wants to be able to be completely herself, win the guy, and have him fall so desperately in love with her he'll feel his world will end without her. Every woman wants a man to look at her the way Al Pacino looks at Marthe Keller. Ladies, rent this movie, fall in love with Al Pacino, and then go rent Frankie and Johnny.
On a more serious note, this movie is a drama. I'd hate to recommend it and have some unsuspecting female watch it thinking it's on par with Pillow Talk. It's more on par with Love Story, but it's an infinitely better film. Marthe isn't annoying or riddled with an entitled attitude, and Al has so many layers of love, pain, gratitude, and sorrow in his expressions, it's just rude to compare him to Ryan O'Neal.
