All of Me | Chicago Reader

All of Me


Carl Reiner tries his hand at character comedy with this 1984 vehicle for Steve Martin and Lily Tomlin, whose plot suggests 30s screwball spiked with bad acid: Tomlin is a sickly, spoiled heiress who arranges to have her soul projected into the conspicuously healthy body of Victoria Tennant, but something goes haywire and she ends up inhabiting the right-hand side of lawyer Martin. The premise is less than elegant, but Reiner gives it a surprisingly disciplined development, staying within the limits of a self-defined plausibility and letting the gags grow organically from the situation. Martin has become a superb physical comic, and Tomlin brings some unexpected warmth to a cruelly written part. A manic fuzziness takes over in the last reel and spoils some of the pleasure, but it's still a sympathetic effort.

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