It’s exciting to see Shyamalan on such confident footing once more, all these years later.
"Take some advice from an old pro," the go-go girl tells Natalie. "Don't make the mistake of thinking love in real life is like love in the movies. You're in apple blossom time now, but a time will come..."
But love in real life is, of course, like love in the movies. And so Natalie moves out of Brooklyn and into a pad in Greenwich Village, and who should be living downstairs but a gorgeous 6-foot-2, black-haired, clear-eyed hunk of masculinity who was a rich and successful architect in Connecticut but has come to the Village to do some serious painting and Discover Himself. And who could inspire him more richly, more fully, than loyal Natalie, who may be plain on the outside but has a heart of solid throbbing gold.
To this elementary description of the plot, only one thing needs to be added: It's good to see love in the movies looking like love in the movies for a change. "Me, Natalie" is as conventional and corny as warmed-over "Young at Heart" (fairy tales can come true -- it can happen to you).
The story involves Patty Duke, known as Clown Face in the neighborhood, who is promised by her mother that, never mind, when she grows up she'll be beautiful. But, alas, when she grows up she's still plain and gawky and should have had braces on her teeth.