Latin Lovers is nothing but fluff, and for those in the mood for a mindless, eye-filling way to waste an hour and a half, it should be quite entertaining. But for those hungry for even the slightest bit of substance, Lovers can't provide the tiniest mouthful. Forget about the script right now; certainly, the writers seem to have. The plot is nothing more than a trifle, which in and of itself is not a crime. The problem is that the slender thread of story hasn't been told with any wit or originality. Instead, it has been told with costumes, art direction and cinematography. Fortunately, there's plenty of each of these, and they're all lush and gorgeous and yummy. There are also a few musical numbers, none of which is a classic but all of which are enjoyable, and which serve to highlight Lana Turner's graceful way with a dancing step and Ricardo Montalban's commandingly macho presence. Turner and Montalban are quite good, aware that the material they have is total nonsense but having a good time with it and treating it with more seriousness than it deserves. And Turner has rarely looked better. John Lund is adequate, but no more; Jean Hagen, as usual, makes a very positive impression. You might find that you can't remember much about Lovers ten minutes after it's over, but you'll probably find it a pleasant little diversion while you're actually watching.