Well-written but shallow comedy about a composer entering a
mid-life crisis, dropping his faithful but independent
companion (Andrews) in pursuit of some ephemeral,
inarticulate urge-- personified by Bo Derek, as Jenny, a new
bride he sees passing in a limo one day. The dialogue is
clever at times, even literate, but, after all, these are
wealthy, shallow, materialistic nerds in pursuit of sexual
gratification, and there is never the slightest suggestion
that there is anything more substantial at stake. To top it
all off, Bo Derek never was a ten in any respect but
physical appearance, which is about as shallow a measure as
you can get. Notes: Moore spies on a neighbor, in his
voluputous hill-side mansion, with a telescope. He is some
kind of rock star or something, having orgies, and spying
on him. At one point, Moore acerbicly comments that the
next generation will think of "Why Don't We Do It In the
Road" as "their song", a rather petty and, in retrospect,
stupid remark that could only come from an envious, deluded
nerd.