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As Martha, Winger is a "childlike spirit captured in the body of an awkward woman" -- as Gramercy Pictures' press notes puts it. Whether that means mentally impaired or not is unclear. But she's called a "screwball" behind her back. Timid and thickly bespectacled, she lives a sheltered existence in a guest house next to her aunt (Barbara Hershey), on whom she depends for emotional security. That near-clubbing comes when bitter wife Laurie Metcalf intentionally plows her car into Hershey's front porch. Climbing out of the battered automobile, gun in hand, Metcalf accuses Hershey of having an affair with her politician-husband John Terry -- who happens to be there. Winger, who's been watching the altercation in horror, retreats to her house and comes back with the hammer. Before she brings the thing down on Metcalf's head, however, she is stopped. So is Metcalf. The incident is forgotten. But we know something's ticking away. In producer/writer Naomi Foner's increasingly laughable scenario, Winger undergoes a systematic shafting from everyone around her, including Hershey, who treats her like an unwanted child, and Winger's fellow employees at the dry cleaners where she works. When Winger meets drunken Irish handyman Gabriel Byrne, who gets a job fixing that front porch, it's love at first nearsight. They're birds of a feather. He sees how mistreated she is. She sees his heart of gold under all that boozy breath. In one private encounter, the besotted Irishman bursts into tears, buries his head in her lap and begs for absolution. "Oh, Martha," he whimpers. "You're like a primitive thing that's never been spoiled." Their tentative affair and various other episodes continue with slow, arbitrary and unintentionally amusing abandon. The most significant development is a growing tension between Winger and sleazeball David Strathairn, boyfriend of one of her co-workers. Like most movie naifs, Winger speaks the truth no one else is capable of, and naturally no one believes the addled Cassandra. She also sees -- with contrived regularity -- society's deceptions. After the gun-and-hammer scene, for instance, Winger peers through a window to see Hershey making illicit love with Metcalf's husband. So they were having an affair! Winger happens to look up as Strathairn slips money from the dry cleaners' till into his underwear. But Strathairn successfully accuses her of pilfering. What's a harassed "screwball" to do? Winger, who looks like one of Gilda Radner's "Saturday Night Live" caricatures, throws herself into the acting task. But her talents and enthusiasm are counterproductive here. Her eye contact veers away from people, "Rainman" style. She squints so theatrically behind those glasses, you want to knock them off. Her ungainly waddle is meant to be poignant, but it just looks like she's imitating TV's Urkel. If mistakes are things to recover and learn from, "A Dangerous Woman" is the lesson of her career.
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