It is difficult to imagine anything similar to a sound reason why Julie Hagerty decided to be involved with this woefully underfunded and banal film. The talented Hagerty who, along with Diane Keaton, has represented the quintessential contemporary suburban neurotic in American cinema for the past 20 years, cannot discover a way to bring this work up from its malnourished roots to a level of interest. The plot involves Hagerty's character's discovery of her husband's infidelity, resulting in her booking a flight to a longed-for Paris, a destination not achieved as she sleeps past the embarkation point in France, and finds herself in Israel with no luggage and little money, taking a place in a kibbutz in order to survive. The director and scriptor, Amos Kollek, son of long-time Jerusalem mayor Teddy Kollek (who is given a bit part), is also the male lead and romantic interest for Hagerty who has a difficult time, along with the viewer, in adopting the illusion that Kollek is interesting in the least. This activity is within a travelogue frame, resulting in a hybrid of a would-be comedy and propaganda piece. There is no character development, simply a flabby episodic structure marked by a subterranean level of taste. Virtually every scene is belabored by poor editing and sound quality and a lack of direction; only the opening moments, with Hagerty in a New York elevator expounding to all about her of her delight in quitting her employer, has any sparkle to it.