The movie, directed by Mark Webb from a screenplay by Scott Neustadter and Michael H Weber, zeroes in on one of the chief predicaments of post-modern dating – the definition dilemma. When one party wants to stamp a label on what they’ve got going, the other gets cold feet. Why should it need defining? Deschanel gently squirms her way out of the issue, but we guess from her reaction that Tom’s days are numbered.
The story unfolds from his antsy, earnest point of view; Summer is meant to be unknowable, Annie Hall-ish, a law unto herself. What’s slightly disappointing, at least in such peerless company, is how the movie backs away from real feeling, never fully capitalising on the chemistry between its leads.
Like Summer herself, it’s scared of letting things get too heavy. There’s too much arch voiceover. Tom’s break-up woes are caricatured for laughs, not played for real, and it doesn’t help that the game Gordon-Levitt makes slightly heavy weather of the comedy, overselling his bungling seduction efforts.
An ideal version of this film would be painful and playful, and a good deal less cluttered. But the one we get certainly has delightful moments. After any exposure to this year’s unfailingly smelly mainstream romcoms, it’s a breeze.