A serious chick-flick. Two characters' lives are loosely intertwined until fate finally pulls them together.
The majority of the story is about a small idylic apartment complex that the architect guy wants to tear down for a post-modern art-deco bullshit building of some kind. They show a restaurant he built which is meant to be over-the-top trendy, like unwearables in The Pompatus of Love. The building is commissioned by an ex-child actress that the guy has had a crush on since he was a kid. The guy apparently is a chronic liar, which dooms his many relationships. In this case, he pretends to have never seen her TV series.
Jeanne Tripplehorn plays a writer who has settled on a career as a ghost writer. She's writing the autobiography of the same actress. She also has just moved into the apartment complex that's about to be torn down. She coincidentally is dating a guy on the city counsel who could sway the vote to save the complex if he were so inclined.
There's an old lady in the complex, somewhat senile, who recounts the history of previous tennets. Apparently these stories or the lady herself sparks something sentimental in both of the main characters. Simultaneously, Tripplehorn learns that her boyfriend is a scum (they foreshadowed it) and the architect dude reveals to the actress that he's a scum.
This is where the chick-flick nature of the film lost it for me. I'm sure there was a lot in there that I missed. Either the motives of the characters just became too subtle for me to follow. Or, the intertwining of their lives had created too many cross-connections for me to follow.
On my brother's Total Movie Value Scale, this movie is a Cable. Not a bad movie, but a bit too chick-flick for me to follow.
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