Gary Marshall‘s Frankie and Johnny was released roughly 33 years ago, and I remember quite clearly never wanting to see it. I still don’t. Mainly because I didn’t want to settle into a phoney conceit about its glamorous, highly attractive costars who had played Mr. and Mrs. Tony Montana eight years earlier — Al Pacino and Michelle Pfeiffer — living the grubby lives of also-rans.

Terrence McNally‘s original 1987 off-Broadway play, Frankje and Johnny in the Clair de Lune, was about a pair of ordinary, middle-aged, worn-down homelies — F. Murray Abraham and Kathy Bates — falling in love within the grim confines of a stuio apartme4=nt. Critic after critic said Marshall’s version was too glammy — there was no way in hell anyone could accept that Pacino and Pfeiffer, aged 40 and 30 respectively, were schlubby, hand-to-mouth types, and that was all I needed to hear.

Movieline’s Stephen Farber: “Michelle Pfeiffer gives a very adept and winning performance in Frankie & Johnny, but she’s simply wrong for the part of a plain, world-weary waitress…anyone as gorgeous as she is has a lot more options than someone who looks like Kathy Bates (who originated the role on stage).” Pacino fared no better with Washington Post critic Rita Kempley: “It’s just…well, imagine Kevin Costner as [Ernest Borgnine‘s] Marty.”

Casting the right actor or actress, in short, means never going too low or too high. Too much charm or physical attractiveness can throw a well-written, well-directed film out of whack.