At first, Where the Money Is appears to resemble another recent geezer vehicle -- Kirk Douglas's Diamonds. Both involve old men who have strokes who set out to reclaim a lost stash. But that's where the similarities end. While Diamonds was essentially a sentimental family tale, this one is a lightweight, by-the-numbers caper film that tries to have it every which way -- acknowledging Newman's years while suggesting that he still can attract women roughly half his age.
The star plays Henry, an over-the-hill bank robber serving a long stretch in prison. When Henry has a debilitating stroke and the prison hospital is overcrowded, he is shipped off to a private convalescent home. He seems to be a total vegetable, unresponsive to anything. But nurse Carol (Linda Fiorentino) begins to suspect that Henry's not quite as bad off as he seems. In fact, she begins to suspect that he's faking. She tries being sultry and seductive; she tries making loud noises. But Henry doesn't even flinch. In a final test that defies credibility, she manages to force Henry into action. She was right all along: Having studied yoga, Zen detachment, and self-hypnosis in the prison library, Henry has been faking. His plan is to escape the no-security facility and reclaim his share of the proceeds from his last job, which comprises more than enough money to get out of the country and assume a new identity. Of course, something has screwed up: The money is gone, leaving Henry without a plan.
Luckily, Carol has a few plans of her own. Bored to tears by her job, her life, and her husband, Wayne (Dermot Mulroney), she is energized by the presence of an honest-to-God bank robber. She convinces a skeptical but desperate Henry to go in with her on an armored car heist. They have to let Wayne in on the deal. But this creates a new set of problems: Henry may be old enough to be Wayne's grandfather, but Wayne is still jealous of the attention Carol gives Henry. And, as it develops, probably not without cause.
Where the Money Is slips by quickly enough, but it never engages our interest more than passingly. It's another placeholder in the stalled career of British director Marek Kanievska, who made a fine debut in 1984 with Another Country and promptly slid downhill with Less Than Zero (1987); this is his first feature since then.
Here, all that we're left with is Newman's charisma and Fiorentino's sexiness. Together, they're only enough to make things tolerable. And it's impossible not to keep noticing the age disparity between the leads. That Fiorentino is only a few years north of half Newman's age might not have been so distracting . . . if there had been anything else memorable or diverting in the whole enterprise.