Autumn In New York: Critic Reviews

If the movie ... exhibits a loving eye for Manhattan exteriors, it's undone by its own rigidly old-fashioned conventions.

The picture is a veritable bouquet of ardent cliches and witless sentiments.

All style and no substance.

The movie's biggest fatality is the lack of chemistry between the two stars. Even in their most amorous moments, they seem like a randy uncle and his sad-eyed niece.

[Chen] has a lovely sense of film rhythm and a sophisticated eye for luxe effects, but she fell into this vat of goo and there's no climbing out of it.

If [Chen] is able to take such predictable storylines and breathe life into them, chances are good she'll have a long and successful career in Hollywood.

Though individually attractive, together Gere and Ryder are as unappetizing a combo as pimento and peach.

Utterly banal, Joan Chen's tediously sappy romance is a kind of modern-day Love Story (a better film!) with a "twist": Richard Gere's suave lover is old enough to be Winona Ryder's father.

Has no shortage of howlers and telegraphs its plot twists a mile away- but this ultra-glossy weepie turns out to be something of a guilty pleasure almost because of its extreme predictability.

Finally ... the melodrama does take over.

A workmanlike product that offers occasional, small moments of satisfaction, but, as a whole, is apt to leave audiences wondering why they should care.

Sappy and melodramatic.

This unpredictable, even rigorous film deserves a chance to find its audience.

To sit through this is to suffer the grossest sweaty-palms-on-the-glass sex scene. Funny that the film closes with an overbearing end-credits song by Jennifer Paige - a one-hit wonder who, like "Autumn," is a pop-culture footnote best left forgotten.

Tax forms have more emotional content.

Weak and unmemorable.

Were you to watch the movie's first 20 minutes, you might think you were about to see another variation on Gere's megahit 'Pretty Woman'... Once it's revealed that Charlotte is a Pretty Sick Woman, however, the film becomes dour and tedious...

Melodrama is bad enough, contrived melodrama is worse, and badly written contrived melodrama is Autumn in New York.

Just what it promises to be: a Love Story-style romance.

Nauseating amount of glucose sentiment.

The quintessential chick flick, and it's not going to seduce anyone who doesn't have a taste for this kind of schmaltz in the first place. But for what it is, it's well done.

Am I the only person who is tired of seeing actors play characters who fall in love with beautiful women half their age?

A movie that teaches respect for "feelings" through a cocky middle-aged NYC restaurateur who learns he is capable of love in relationship with a vivacious young woman.

There's nothing magical about the romance in Autumn in New York, and nothing even very tragic about its love affair.

Enjoyment of Autumn in New York depends to a certain degree on a viewer's tolerance for a mood of luxurious melancholy. At 105 minutes, it becomes too much of an indulgence.