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There is not a single genuine New Zealand accent to be heard in the whole movie.

A couple of actors sounded sort-of Australian.

I guess most Americans wouldn't know a New Zealand accent if they fell over one anyway...

This seriously impacted the authenticity of the movie for me.

Otherwise the movie is very poignant and enjoyable. As an aside, I found it somehow reassuring to see how ready the women were in those days to jump into bed with American servicemen.

This is all I have to say to make up my compulsory ten lines.

The worst part of all is the poor scripting, leading to superficial acting.

Dreyfuss' character is intensely repetitive and annoying, and Dreyfuss himself has the annoying face to match.

Holly Hunter's character is exaggeratedly self-centered, and Hunter herself indulges in serious overacting, as usual.

Brad Johnson was wooden. John Goodman made the best of it.

Furthermore, the whole death / ghost thing has since been somewhat overdone, and now appears rather lame.

Barely watchable only if you like old aeroplanes.

I had to read "The Catcher in the Rye" for English at school. I thought it was the most boring book I had ever read.

This film was an uncanny repetition of the same depressing chore.

The one revelation was that if anyone could become so obsessed with such a book; that if the book somehow spoke so deeply to this person, then their perception of the world is indeed impossible for me to relate to.

Like most of my generation, I loved John Lennon and all he stood for.

This film does not provide any meaningful insight into his death.

John Lennon was murdered by a nutter. That's all I need to know.