It's always interesting to see unfamiliar professions and their peculiar demands captured on film, and Billy Crystal taps into this keenly in Forget Paris, creating a curious audience for the behind-the-scenes life of an NBA referee. Some might consider the job the worst of both worlds: the horrible travel schedule of a professional athlete with none of the glory, and instead of glory, actual ill will from both players and fans who disagree with his calls. But the job and the cameos from real NBA players, which punched up the trailer, are mostly a surface gimmick, a way in for Crystal to explore the Woody Allen-like subject matter that truly interests him: the semi-functional relationships of aging New Yorkers, which get articulately talked out in a succession of alternately funny and heartbreaking scenes. It's not up to the standards of When Harry Met Sally..., but Crystal's directorial debut, which he also co-wrote, shows that he paid attention when he starred in wistful romantic comedies like this in the past. There are some zany scenes of pure comedy, but also a number that dwell on the sadness of falling in love under impractical circumstances. Anyone who has experienced an intense romantic interlude like the one Crystal and Debra Winger spend in Paris will sympathize, as the characters desperately try to forge a lasting relationship from a dizzy soup of memories.
