Bed of Roses

In some movies, the biggest problem is the lack of a problem. Romances, unless the designation is just a semantic gyp, require the presence of at least a semibelievable obstacle to temporarily forestall an attractive couple's living happily ever after. Yet in Bed of Roses the guy is totally cute, cooks a mean breakfast, and really knows how to say it with flowers. So, after two seconds' hesitation, the gal relents. And that's about it. Which leaves the viewer waiting for the story — not to mention the acting, alas — to get going. (The thinness of the whole concoction is stretched to translucence by the small screen.) Sweet smelling though the premise may be, this rose is a rose in name only. C+