baby boom

Although its theme of women in the workplace is still a hot topic, Baby Boom (1987) probably won't inspire much serious discussion. Maybe that's because its main character, J.C Wiatt, is an honest-to-goodness one-percenter, thriving at the top of the executive pay scale. Or maybe it's just that writer Nancy Meyers, who specializes in crowd-pleasing, demographically targeted, feel-good fluff, isn't interested in starting a serious dialogue to begin with. Baby Boom is perfectly fine with being a workingwoman chick-flick fairy tale, thank you very much. And, to be honest, it's kind of refreshing not to have to carry all that extra weight.

The self-described "Tiger Lady" of a Manhattan marketing firm, J.C. (Diane Keaton) is all business; she wears her 80 hour work week and unmarried-but-successfully-cohabitating status like a badge of honor. But an unlikely inheritance from a cousin overseas results in her being named guardian of Elizabeth, a Gerber-cute baby girl, who sends J.C.'s life into a professional meltdown.

Despite the threat to her career (and her love life), the Tiger Lady decides to tackle motherhood, fumbling through diaper changes and nannies, before the juggling act takes its final toll. Pushed out of her job, J.C. starts her second act by moving into a quaint little money-pit in Vermont that pushes her to a nervous breakdown. But just when things hit rock bottom, she's spoon fed a new business idea that could put her right back at the top of the corporate ladder.

Baby Boom is one of those textbook Hollywood scripts that could serve as a Rosetta Stone for aspiring writers. It expertly manipulates its characters through a three-act structure that's so obvious it almost pauses for chapter headings. But that's the sort of criticism only a critic would pay attention to. As a movie, it's flat out entertaining from beginning to end, mostly thanks to Diane Keaton's sympathetically neurotic performance. She makes J.C Wiatt into something more than a comic foil for pratfalls and poop jokes; there's a real maternal struggle at work here that another actress might have glossed over.

Of course, jokes at the expense of naive parents are still box-office gold. And director Charles Shyer stages his with perfect timing and no regrets. The first 30-minutes of Baby Boom play to the cheap seats, but what's even more endearing is the way the film handles J.C.'s aforementioned second-act, introducing an unexpected love interest (Sam Shepard) and not-so-unexpected fork-in-the-road finale. There are a few unnecessary speeches, an ill-advised opening narration and plenty of montages set to a saxophone-heavy score, but in the end Baby Boom makes you feel as good as Throwback Thursday post from an old friend. And who couldn't use a little more of that every now and then?

Twilight Time's 3000-copy Blu-ray limited edition presents another solid hi-def transfer along with an isolated score track, theatrical trailer, liner notes and commentary track from Nick Redman and Julie Kirgo.