Made in Heaven (1987)

Made in Heaven is the kind of romantic fantasy Hollywood barely makes anymore: unabashedly dreamy, a little mischievous, and sincere enough to risk looking you straight in the eye. Alan Rudolph turns the afterlife into a witty, oddly comforting waiting room where humor and irony keep the sweetness from curdling, and then lets the story glide into Earth with a ticking-clock ache that feels both playful and genuinely yearning. Timothy Hutton and Kelly McGillis sell the movie’s central notion—that love can be a memory you can’t quite name—with an easy likability that makes even the strangest rules feel emotionally true. It won’t be for viewers who need realism or tidy logic, but if you’re open to a romantic fable with sharp edges and a big, beating heart, it’s a lovely gamble.

Made in Heaven is clearly aiming for a dreamy, romantic fable about soulmates and second chances, and its opening in the afterlife has a genuinely offbeat charm. The problem is that once it drops to Earth, the story starts to feel thinner and more familiar, like it’s coasting on whimsy rather than building real momentum or insight. If you’re allergic to sentimental, rules-of-fate romance where emotions are big but the consequences feel oddly weightless, this may test your patience. Still, if you enjoy Alan Rudolph’s eccentric tone and you’re in the mood for a gentle, slightly oddball love story that prioritizes mood over plot punch, there’s enough sweetness here to make it a decent one-time watch.