Directed by Nancy Meyers, starring Jack Nicholson, Diane Keaton, Keanu Reeves, Amanda Peet and Frances McDormand.

If smugness was worth something, Harry Sanborn (Nicholson) could float himself on the stock exchange. In his Sixties, when most men are thinking of retiring, he's still on top of his game, a multi-millionaire and founder of rap label Drive-By Records. And his love life's in great shape too, because as Harry gets older, the women stay the same age which, in his case, is under 30.

But Harry gets his reality check when he heads off to the Hamptons for a romantic weekend with current belle Marin (Peet). He has a heart attack and it's only the quick thinking of Marin's mother, famous playwright Erica Barry (Keaton), that saves his life.

Warned by his doctor (Reeves) that he shouldn't travel, Harry is forced to stay at Erica's home, a prospect unlikely to get his pulse racing. She's not too happy about it either, seeing her 'patient' as yet another man unable to grow up.

But the longer they spend together the more they're drawn to each other. Or something. Harry's having trouble dealing with the fact that he's interested in a woman closer to his own age while Erica's struggling to believe that Harry's doctor also wants her. So are Harry and Erica too smart to go with their hearts or just too dumb to know this is the real thing?

Written and directed by 'What Women Want' helmer Nancy Meyers, there was a far better film in this story than the one she came up with. And summing up its shortcomings is probably very similar to Harry Sanborn's ideas on dating: starts intriguingly, plods in the middle and has a big finish. And, like most dates, it also seems unsure whether the mood should be funny or
serious - you'll come out thinking the latter.

Nicholson is sending himself up here again but grinning, ogling and giving the impression that he just glides into rooms without having to lift his feet isn't too much of a challenge. For Keaton it's a role we see all too little of these days, but the onscreen romance with a badly miscast Reeves doesn't work and gets in the way of what should really be a film about two people who have crossed the age divide between 'Who Will I Have?' and 'Who'll Have Me?'. That it ends exactly how you'd expect is no surprise, that Nicholson, Keaton and McDormand could all end up in something so routine is.

Make excuses and say you're washing your hair.

Harry Guerin