text: This movie should be called Blame it on the Script. Directed by Stanley Donen, of Singin' in the Rain fame, this celluloid mid-life crisis is not all bad. It's got some lush scenes of Rio de Janeiro and various scantily clad extras cavorting with each other and romping around the beach to the sultry sounds of samba, but there is just something about watching fifty-something Michael Caine get it on with whiny teenager Michelle Johnson that makes you feel...well, sleazy. This storyline is a complete stretch, too. Nobody but pervy and vain old studio execs in Hollywood could have green-lit this embarrassment. Maybe they are so used to having young bimbos as arm candy that they forget it's their fat wallets that hold the key to their appeal, not their huge Larry King-style spectacles and yellow cigar-stained teeth. It's one thing for a nubile young sexpot to have a crush on an older man, but on her best friend's father who happens to be married? And then to throw herself at him shamelessly? Ugh! There's nothing entertaining about that. It's rather pathetic and grotesque. Take note of a young Demi Moore's budding *cough* talent.