Robert Waller's inexplicably colossal bestseller is transferred to the screen with more art than it deserves, but neither old-fashioned Hollywood craftsmanship nor the massive star power of Eastwood and Streep can compensate for the story's
intellectual slightness and emotional implausibility. For those who don't already know -- there must be four or five of you -- it's about an Iowa housewife who's swept off her feet by a hypermasculine but sensitive photographer. Little happens here apart from a long, slow buildup to
sentimentalized coitus, but there's no denying the sheer screen presence of these two 500-lb. gorillas of pop culture.