Jack. Diane. How much do we love Nancy Meyers? She wrote it for them and boy do they make it their own. He’s Harry Sanborn, rap mogul, dating art dealer Marin (Amanda Peet) and he has a heart attack at her mother’s Long Island beachfront property as they’re about to consummate their new relationship. Mom just happens to be Erica Barry, the Broadway playwright. He finds himself sequestered there by doc Keanu Reeves, unwillingly falling for a woman of his own age for the very first time. She’s got writer’s block and objects to him on every level, except … she never meets anyone outside of work and now she’s got this horrible old guy after her and Keanu fancies her too. Meyers admitted that she wrote this from the experience of feeling invisible following her divorce from Charles Shyer, her husband, directing, writing and producing partner of a quarter of a century, and this is all about figuring out how to integrate your personal experiences into an art form when everything goes to hell in a handcart. Keaton’s scene at her computer when she ranges from tearful rage to hilarity as she writes her next hit play starring Harry, her new subject – replete with a row of his avatars with their rears on view to the world in the hospital replay on Broadway – is brilliantly written, directed and played. She’s a great romantic heroine and you can bet with Meyers there’s a twist or two to the narrative – irony and genre-twisting being her speciality. Erica manages to be an unhappy emotional vampire for whom we root. Art imitates life and then some. This has a transformational arc that’s equal parts Pygmalion and Cinderella. If you want to read more on her work, I’ve written a book about her films: https://www.amazon.com/Pathways-Desire-Emotional-Architecture-Meyers-ebook/dp/B01BYFC4QW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1474803514&sr=8-1&keywords=elaine+lennon.