This could have been a great movie, but someone screwed up, or copped out, somewhere along the way. If only Glenda Jackson's character, Vicki Allessio, and George Segal's Steve Blackburn had retained throughout the movie the personas they project brilliantly in the first half she, cool-headed, clear-sighted, acid-tongued, and so clearly leading the way; he, opportunistic, not as sharp as he thinks he is, and desperately trying to seize control of the relationship this might have been a noteworthy feminist statement.
But in the second half, he becomes just another cheating husband, she just the other woman; and the film becomes ever more formulaic, with simply the charisma of the principals and a few good gags to enliven proceedings, before the inevitable down-beat ending. Indeed, all the way through, apart from Jackson's and Segal's characters, the film relies on stock steretypes - eg camp fashion trade gays, bungling Spanish hotel porters, golden-hearted tarts - for its humour. But there is at least one great line, when Vicki during some clumsy love-making says to Steve in her cut-glass voice, "Why don't you just roll on top and hope for the best!"
But in the second half, he becomes just another cheating husband, she just the other woman; and the film becomes ever more formulaic, with simply the charisma of the principals and a few good gags to enliven proceedings, before the inevitable down-beat ending. Indeed, all the way through, apart from Jackson's and Segal's characters, the film relies on stock steretypes - eg camp fashion trade gays, bungling Spanish hotel porters, golden-hearted tarts - for its humour. But there is at least one great line, when Vicki during some clumsy love-making says to Steve in her cut-glass voice, "Why don't you just roll on top and hope for the best!"