Somewhere near the very end of Blake Edwards’ interminable The Man Who Loved Women, Julie Andrews says something to the effect of, “That’s the whole story, and there’s nothing left to tell.” I nearly leapt out of my seat in celebration at this hint that the nearly two-hour snooze-fest was drawing to a close. Somehow classified as a “comedy,” this bloated misfire wastes Andrews’ limitless talents, while clearly pointing out the boundaries of Burt Reynolds’s very limited abilities.
Reynolds plays David Fowler, a sweet and sensitive sculptor who (as the silly title clearly suggests) really loves women. Virtually without plot, this flaccid flick is delivered in a ham-fisted flashback style, with Fowler’s sexual dalliances as the focal point. Andrews plays his analyst, and she is forced to withstand 100 minutes of painfully trite exploits from her egomaniacal patient. When your movie’s strongest conflict is that some smug jerk gets too much sex, it’s a little tough to get involved in the drama. Plus, Reynolds never even comes close to making Fowler the least bit likeable.
A common thread running among David’s sexual conquests is that (quite simply) David is one heckuva guy. His girlfriends never bat an eyelash when his eye starts to wander, and each always comes back for more. When David’s not being seduced in public by a voracious married woman, he’s falsifying auto insurance reports to catch a second glimpse of some woman’s sexy legs. David even hires a young prostitute off the street and instead of getting naked, he gives her a job in his sculpting studio. Awwww!
Does anyone else out there buy Reynolds as a sensitive sculptor? While Burt was surely a charming guy back in the day, acting range was never his trademark skill. Reynolds has never given a good performance in a film that didn’t feature multiple car crashes. Since this one was released in 1983, it’s only logical that a few familiar faces should show up. A youthful Kim Basinger ( L.A. Confidential) is on hand to play the horny married gal, Marilu Henner ( Johnny Dangerously) has a few scenes as another Fowler conquest and Barry Corbin ( Who’s Harry Crumb?) provides the only sparks of life as a clueless tycoon cowboy. Eagle-eyed film fans will spot Denise Crosby and Sela Ward in smaller window-dressing roles.
Edwards is not a good director. Aside from a few inspired moments from his Pink Panther series and a handful of entertaining flicks, he has never had a clue and has never met a tripod he didn’t like. In a flimsy effort to combine a mild sex farce with a sensitive ‘80s guy melodrama, Edwards presents a schizophrenic movie that’s as dull and tiresome as it is relentlessly self-important. Oh, and if that’s not enough… there’s not one single laugh to be found in the entire bloated running time. Aside from one slapstick sequence halfway through (involving a dog, a carpet and some Crazy Glue), I couldn’t find anything that was even intended to be funny.
Some movies age well. Some movies don’t age well but can still entertain. The Man Who Loved Women is strictly an “early ‘80s” flick – one that goes to great lengths to show that men can be sensitive too, dammit! With a cloying tone and an over-reliance on the indulgent psychobabble so prevalent in those days, The Man Who Loved Women is not merely a film that hasn’t aged well; it was stale six months after it was released.
