The plot is ridiculous, but not much more so than in many of the classic romantic comedies of the 1930s, where mistaken identities, goofy misunderstandings, and minor deceptions were just the handy little cogs that kept stories going. (It all comes from Shakespeare, anyway.)  You could argue, pedantically, that what Anna does is really, really bad, as well as illegal: her crimes include breaking and entering, temporary theft of precious jewelry, and misleading a whole village into believing she’s someone she’s not. But Bailey’s Anna shrugs it all off with an innocent smile, and you can’t be too hard on her. Bailey is a sunny, likable presence, with Bambi eyelashes out to there; you can’t help wanting the best for her character, which includes, of course, a return to the thing she loves most, cooking. Between the romantic fantasy of Anna and her two swains, the swoony Tuscan locales bathed in creamy golden light, and the tomatoes, You, Me & Tuscany delivers everything its title promises. Once in a while, there is truth in advertising. Â
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