Diane Keaton is J.C. Wiatt, the quintessential Ms. magazine career girl – married to her job, working twelve hours a day, making six figures a year, with no time for human emotions.
Even her lovemaking with roommate-boyfriend Harold Ramis is timed to never take up more than four minutes of her valuable time.
Then the bottom falls out. The brainy executive inherits a baby from a distant relative she hasn’t seen since 1954 and she finds herself up to her stock market reports in baby food and diapers, trying to find what she calls “quality time” to pop a Valium and wash it down with a baby bottle.
Her boss says “You can’t have it all” but the rest of this delectable comedy says you can, as the frustrated J .C. hangs up the corporate ladder and moves to a 200-year old farm in Vermont where she’s as out of place as Goldie Hawn in Private Benjamin (1980).
The first half of Baby Boom is about the struggles of a lady yuppie to scratch her way to the executive washroom. The second half is about the struggles of a displaced city mouse scheming to get back to town.
Broke, despondent, and hysterical, all she’s got is a cupboard full of apple sauce from a hard winter.
The way she turns her predicament into a commercial bonanza by marketing designer baby products out of her own mail-order kitchen makes this one of the wittiest, most intelligent, and most endearing comedies in years.
Diane Keaton gives the richest, funniest performance of her life in a tour de force of neurotic, frazzled timing that proves why she’s a real star.