A Smile Like Yours: Why This 90s Rom-Com Actually Deserves a Second Look

A Smile Like Yours: Why This 90s Rom-Com Actually Deserves a Second Look

If you spent any time browsing the "Comedy" section of a Blockbuster in the late nineties, you definitely saw Greg Kinnear and Lauren Holly’s faces beaming back at least once. A Smile Like Yours is one of those movies that feels like a time capsule. Released in 1997, it arrived right at the peak of Kinnear’s "everyman" charm offensive, hot on the heels of Sabrina and just before As Good as It Gets. But honestly? It’s a weird one. While most romantic comedies of that era were busy with "fake dating" tropes or "enemies to lovers" storylines, this film took a sharp left turn into the clinical, messy world of infertility.

It’s not exactly the lighthearted romp the marketing department promised.

What A Smile Like Yours Was Really Trying to Do

Let’s get into the weeds. Danny and Jennifer Robertson (Kinnear and Holly) are the "perfect" San Francisco couple. He’s into construction; she owns a fragrance boutique. They have the house, the style, and the chemistry. But then they decide to have a baby. That’s where the "comedy" part of this romantic comedy gets... well, complicated.

The film, directed by Keith Samples, tries to balance the slapstick absurdity of sperm testing with the genuine, gut-wrenching frustration of "unexplained infertility." It’s a tonal tightrope walk that most critics at the time—including Roger Ebert, who gave it a pretty lukewarm review—felt the movie fell off of. Ebert basically argued that the movie couldn't decide if it wanted to be a serious drama or a movie where Greg Kinnear hides in a bathroom.

He wasn't entirely wrong.

But looking back now? There is something incredibly brave about a mainstream Paramount Pictures release in 1997 tackling the taboo of the "semen analysis" or the hormone injections. You've got to remember that back then, people weren't really talking about IVF or male-factor infertility at the dinner table. It was private. It was shameful for some. A Smile Like Yours dragged it into the neon-lit 90s aesthetic, even if it did so with a few too many pratfalls.


The Cast and the Chemistry Problem

Greg Kinnear is doing his best Greg Kinnear. He has this specific way of looking exasperated that makes you want to buy him a beer. Lauren Holly, fresh off Dumb and Dumber and Picket Fences, brings a lot of vulnerability to Jennifer.

The supporting cast is where things get truly "90s." You’ve got:

  • Joan Cusack: As Nancy, the best friend. Cusack is a national treasure and she’s essentially playing a version of the character she always played—quirky, cynical, and the only person speaking the truth.
  • Jay Thomas: As the friend who is constantly giving terrible advice.
  • Jill Hennessy: Playing the "other woman" architect who threatens to derail the marriage.
  • Christopher McDonald: Because you couldn't make a movie in the 90s without him.

The problem isn't the acting. The problem is the script. It wants the Robertsons to be so likable that when they start lying to each other—and boy, do they lie—it feels less like a rom-com misunderstanding and more like a "you guys really need a therapist" situation. Jennifer starts taking fertility drugs behind Danny's back because he's hesitant. Danny gets tempted by a work colleague. It’s heavy stuff for a movie titled after a cheesy grin.

The Infertility Arc: Accuracy vs. Hollywood

If you’ve ever actually gone through the ringer of fertility treatments, some parts of A Smile Like Yours will make you feel seen, and other parts will make you scream at the screen.

The movie does get the "obsession" right. Jennifer’s life becomes a series of temperature charts and ovulation windows. That's real. The strain it puts on a marriage is real. The scene where Danny has to provide a "sample" at the clinic while being rushed by a nurse is played for laughs, but it touches on the genuine loss of dignity that comes with being a patient in that system.

However, the "science" is a bit hand-wavy. At one point, there's a suggestion that Danny's sperm are "lazy" or "confused." It’s a very 1997 way of explaining things. In 2026, we’d be talking about DNA fragmentation or morphology in specific terms. But the emotional core—the feeling that your body is failing at the one thing it’s "supposed" to do—is handled with more grace than the movie gets credit for.

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Why the Movie Bombed (and Why It Still Matters)

The film was a box office dud. It made roughly $8 million against a budget that was significantly higher. Part of that was the competition. 1997 was the year of Titanic, Men in Black, and My Best Friend’s Wedding. People wanted spectacle or high-concept romance. They didn't necessarily want to spend ten dollars to watch a couple argue about a low sperm count.

But here is the thing: A Smile Like Yours is a rare artifact of a studio trying to make an "adult" romantic comedy.

Nowadays, this would be a 6-episode limited series on Hulu. We’d get to see the nuances. In a 90-minute runtime, the shift from "haha, he fell over" to "our marriage is crumbling because of our reproductive systems" is jarring. Yet, for many people who struggled to conceive in the late 90s, this was one of the only times they saw their struggle on a big screen.

Breaking Down the "Bad" Elements

Is it a "good" movie? Honestly, it’s a C+.

The soundtrack is aggressively 90s—think lots of light jazz and adult contemporary pop that feels like it was composed specifically for a dentist’s waiting room. The fashion is incredible, though. Lauren Holly’s wardrobe is a masterclass in mid-90s professional chic. High-waisted trousers, impeccable blazers, and hair that never has a strand out of place even during a crying jag.

The subplots are where the movie loses its way. There’s a whole bit involving Jennifer’s fragrance business and a "big deal" that feels like it belongs in a completely different film. It’s classic filler. They didn't trust the fertility plot to carry the whole movie, so they tacked on these business stakes that nobody actually cares about.

We’re here for the Kinnear/Holly dynamic. When they’re on, they’re great. When the movie forces them into slapstick, it feels like watching a talented violinist try to play a kazoo.


Forgotten Facts About the Production

  1. The Director: Keith Samples was mostly known for producing. This was his directorial debut in features, and you can kind of tell. It feels like a TV movie with a Hollywood budget.
  2. The Locations: It was filmed in San Francisco, and the city looks gorgeous. It captures that pre-tech-boom fog and charm that is hard to find in modern cinema.
  3. The Title: It’s actually named after a song. If the title sounds like a Hallmark card, that’s because it was intended to market the film as a "feel-good" movie, which arguably backfired when audiences realized how sad parts of it were.

How to Watch It Today

You won't find this on the front page of Netflix. You usually have to dig into the "available to rent" sections of Amazon or Apple. It’s a "comfort watch" for a very specific type of person—someone who misses the days when movies were shot on film and everyone wore beige.

If you’re a fan of Greg Kinnear’s later work like Little Miss Sunshine, it’s worth watching just to see his evolution. He has always been a master of the "repressed frustration" archetype.

Actionable Takeaways for Movie Buffs

If you're planning a 90s rom-com marathon, don't make this the main event. It’s the "palette cleanser." It’s what you watch between the high energy of 10 Things I Hate About You and the perfection of Notting Hill.

  • Watch for the 90s Nostalgia: The tech, the cars, and the lack of smartphones make the "misunderstandings" actually plausible.
  • Observe the Tonal Shift: Use it as a study in how not to mix heavy medical drama with broad comedy, but appreciate the attempt at sincerity.
  • Contextualize Infertility: Compare it to modern depictions like Private Life (2018) or Friends (the Monica and Chandler arc). It shows how far we’ve come in how we talk about reproductive health.

The reality is that A Smile Like Yours isn't a masterpiece. It’s a flawed, somewhat confused, but ultimately well-meaning look at a very real human struggle. It’s about the pressure of expectations—from society, from family, and from ourselves. Even if the jokes don't always land, the heart is clearly in the right place.

If you want to understand the 1990s' attempt at "mature" storytelling, this is a prime example. It’s messy, it’s a little bit cheesy, and it’s undeniably human. Just don't expect a straightforward comedy. It’s much more of a "dramedy" before that term was even a standard part of our vocabulary.

Next time you're scrolling through a streaming service and see Greg Kinnear's face, give it a chance. It might surprise you, even if it makes you wince at the fashion choices. It reminds us that even when life doesn't go according to the "perfect" plan, there's still room for a little bit of hope—and a lot of awkward conversations.