Situations too contrived to even go into put Robin and Quinn on his little plane, alone. Sing with me: "The weather started getting rough, the tiny plane was tossed..." They crash, natch, on a gorgeous little deserted island, with little hope of rescue. And of course, these two, who couldn't stand each other five minutes ago, start thawing in the tropical sun as they go about their MacGyverish plans for saving themselves.

And that's it. Six Days never lets Robin and Quinn do much more than steal glances at each other. I mean, duh: Harrison Ford in grease-covered overalls -- which is how we first meet him here -- is way more yummy than dopey David Schwimmer. Yet Robin refrains from indulging in any hanky-panky with Quinn because of the boring boyfriend -- who, by the way, is getting up to his own sitcomish shenanigans while she's missing. So he gets to have fun while Robin and Quinn -- whom, let's be honest, we paid good money to see get it on -- don't.

Normally I'd pay cash money to see Harrison Ford read from the federal tax code (his presence here even trumped my ban against movies featuring anyone from Friends), but Six Days Seven Nights is kinda, well, dull. As Robin and Quinn were wacking and hacking their way around on their little island, I thought: What this movie needs is a Tyrannosaur attack. If we can't have sex, give us some action.

But there's precious little action of any kind here. *sigh* It's too depressingly like real life.