This movie made me about as uncomfortable as any movie in recent memory; it's hard to tell where comedic exaggeration about neurotic working women stops and truly offensive stereotyping begins, but I suppose it works well enough as a mechanical, echt-80's fantasia wherein competent career woman Keaton discovers her life is meaningless without a little one (who, by the way, is curiously forgotten by the movie about midway through). It ruins nothing to say that the shrew ends up well and truly tamed. The most amusing aspect of the movie by far is the "why in God's name am in this movie?" look on Sam Shepard's face. Incredible, the Myers/Shyer movies only got worse. Keaton tries her hardest.
