Kathleen Turner plays a mousy romance novelist who’s drawn into a South American adventure when her sister is kidnapped by an international smuggling ring. Fresh off the plane, she meets a slobbish, wannabe Indiana Jones (Michael Douglas), who agrees to act as her bodyguard and tour guide... for a price. Together, the unlikely duo dodges bullets, navigates musty caverns, swings over chasms and makes friends in unlikely places, avoiding detection by the bad guys while cracking the riddles of an ancient treasure map. The lingering question, though, is whether Douglas’s rogue will still honor the agreed-upon price of $375 in traveler’s checks once he catches sight of a far loftier prize.

This plot plays like one of its primary character’s narrow, pulpy love stories. For a while, I thought that’s where it was headed: everything a figment of the sad, lonesome novelist’s imagination. Alas, while the adventure does inspire her to write a fictionalized account (which incites bays and swoons from her editor in a tacky bit of meta commentary), the stories' similarities are dismissed as mere coincidence en route to a more superficial resolution. That leaves us with a light, trashy romp through the jungle, a couple moments of near-chemistry between the stars and more than a few missed opportunities. The script provides some good laughs - more than you might expect given its age and demure personality - but the story is too thin and watery to wield much power. Surprising, too, that all the legwork and decision-making falls to the men. This action/adventure fable was famously penned by a woman and boasts a promising female lead, but when push comes to shove, Douglas calls the shots and Turner is just the damsel in distress.