Good actors try hard getting this one out of the closet: conflicted doctor, apparently happy in his career and marriage, finds he's attracted to other men. Everyone going to the theater to see this in 1982 knew what the picture was about--so why when the two men kissed on-screen did people gasp and murmur to each other in shock? Just one of the many mind-stumpers in the subject of cinema! Too bad the screenwriter and director pussyfoot around so much, there's little time left for love-making. There are the standard introductions, the revelations, and then the aftermath (prettied-up); there's practically no real sense of discovery in the closeted doctor's new lifestyle (we even meet one of his tricks via the wife's visit without EVER SEEING the two men out together). It's much too prim and cautious, a coffee table movie about homosexuality. Director Arthur Hiller must have been afraid of offending someone--there's very little carnal desire here, and that's primarily what the movie is about. It may as well have been written by Barbara Cartland. **1/2 from ****
Review of Making Love
