Alan Rudolph is a so-so director, without that special touch. As an example, there was one shot in The Secret Lives of Dentists in the dental office which could have expressed the entire relationship between the husband and wife. Rudolph squandered it. The camera is in the hallway looking through the doorways of the two dental offices, with Dana and Dave each alone in their respective rooms. You get the idea of their desolation and isolation, but not much more. The lighting, the colors, the body language, the facial expressions could all have been vastly improved upon. If I were directing, I would have spent all day, if necessary, to get that shot right. That's the beauty and power of film: it can express so much, whole lives, in a matter of seconds

The shot with the toddler stepping in the puddle of puke could have been improved on. The child should have shown more fascination with the puddle, should have stomped and shuffled her feet, should have had her head bent down to look at the puddle with all her attention.

Campbell didn't deliver. He plays a uncommunicative man, true, but instead of conveying his inner turmoil in voice, gesture, body movement, the film relies on voice-over narration and dialogue with his imaginary macho alter-ego, played by Denis Leary.
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