Top: Ivana Milicevic, Sarah O'Hare, Shalom Harlow Bottom: Tomiko Fraser, Freddie Prinze Jr., Monica Potter

It happens that Amanda's new digs overlook the apartment of Jim Winston, a fashion executive played by Freddie Prinze Jr., the current boy toy of Buffy Michelle Gellar and son of the late, ill-fated '70s comedian Freddie "Looking Good" Prinze. Perhaps it's a good thing that Freddie Jr.'s dad isn't alive to see how unfunny his son is. But, hey, at least the kid's working. So, as David Kidd and Ron Burch's script (yes, it took two writers to do the job, must've been union rules) would have it, Amanda is bowled over and almost boned in the process by a chance meeting with Justin and his Great Dane, Hamlet. Despite the doggy drool, Amanda is weak kneed in the presence of Justin and can't help but spy on him, "Rear Window" style, from her vantage point across the alleyway. At this point, the movie takes on a Hitchcock-meets-the-Spice-Girls kind of vibe and all are excused from the cinematic mishmash that follows – except perhaps fourteen-year-old girls who have memorized Coyote Ugly and are still hell-bent on taking New York by storm.

Still reading? Okay, don't say you weren't advised otherwise. After a tender interlude on the fire stairs of Justin's designer digs, Amanda retreats to her girl-powered maxi-pad only to see what she thinks is the girly-man of her dreams slashing to death an aspiring model whose only mistake was staying for one nightcap too many. Talk about being a fashion victim!

Obviously, in a movie as frivolous as this, with its plethora of pratfalls, crudities and exploding toilets, no nice people are going to get hurt. And lest a precious Prozac be wasted in anxiety-riddled anticipation, let it be known that all ends well, despite an absurd turn of events involving diamond smuggling and mistaken identities during the blown-dried blitzkrieg of fashion week in New York City.

Not to say Head Over Heels is totally without merit, assuming you're under 17 and don't have parents hip enough to take you to Traffic. The girls are pretty, though maybe not as fetching as Freddie Jr. Monica Potter's Sandra Bullock-like slapstick antics provide a few belly laughs despite their sheer obviousness and the all-too-forgone conclusion is nonetheless good for a couple zings of the ol' heart strings.

Gladiator director Ridley Scott must be thankfully shaking in his Roman fashions that he won't have to go mano a mano with Head Over Heels' helmsman Mark Waters for Oscar consideration this year. After all, taking candy from a baby, while not criminal, is still too damned easy.