A feelie. Repressed South Carolina man is summoned to New York City to consult with his suicidal sister's psychiatrist; falls in love with the psychiatrist, teaches her snotty teenage son some football, teaches her snooty violinist husband some manners, learns something about himself, too, and returns to his family a better, fuller, wiser man. It's a well-conceived and well-played (by Nick Nolte) character, a laughing-on-the-outside (or anyway wisecracking-on-the-outside) type, shaded in with the specific colorings of the South and what's dubbed here "the Southern way." But all of this is balanced and often outbalanced by the contributions of Barbra Streisand, who as co-star finds occasion to haul out most of her cute-and-kitteny repertoire, and as director does even greater damage with her unerring nose for soup. (When love breaks out in earnest, lights go on all over the place: backlighting, candles, cozy cabin fireplace, Impressionistic countryside.) And her vision of masculine Southern brutality (flashbacks only) is hardly out of the neighborhood of Tobe Hooper. From the Pat Conroy novel; with Blythe Danner, Kate Nelligan, Jeroen Krabbé, and -- Streisand's real son as her screen son -- Jason Gould. (1991) — Duncan Shepherd
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