Crones and Drones

So I just saw "The Women" starring most of the female actresses in Hollywood. There's Meg Ryan (flappy-floppy as ever), Annette Bening (where Diane Keaton should be), Jada Pinkett-Smith and Debra Messing. Even Bette Midler shows up as a (who else?) loudmouthed multiple divorcee. I'd planned to see the original George Cukor film first but circumstances dictated otherwise. Therefore, I can't offer an informed comparison between the two just yet. Nonetheless, I want to record my initial reactions hot off the movie seat.

It's telling that the last words of this version of "The Women" are: "It's a boy." This is a reason for joy, an ultimate fulfillment in the storyline for one of the characters. And though there are NO MEN in the movie, the patriarchal, old boys' style of thinking (manifest in the shameless commercialism and googly-eyed admiration of all things high-society NYC) permeates the movie like musk. From the first shot of the movie, you know there's nothing new to expect. A camera tracks fast over a blue body of water to reveal... the Manhattan skyline! It doesn't help that the first shots of the movie are straight-up product placements as an unidentified female protagonist struts into Saks Fifth Avenue and surveys the store through Terminator-like vision, pinpointing items of desire Prada Shoes --Must Have! Cartier Perfume...New Line!. The woman is revealed to be Annette Bening whose body language is a direct imitation of Samantha from Sex and the City and whose next encounter reveals the other side of the movie--- false female empowerment. As she strides through the store she is interrupted by a sales girl who asks her if she wants a facelift in a bottle. This is my face. Deal with it. Says Bening, tossing her head saucily.



And yet soon enough we see Candice Bergen (who is pretty fucking good I must say) in a post-facelift relaxation room looking for all the world like a burn victim and telling her daughter that she had to get one-- "Haven't you noticed? There are no sixty year old women in New York. I was the only one." It's funny but as her daughter admits, she will be in her place in another 20 years. So it's just a matter of time before we must stop asking the world to deal with our aging faces.

To make things worse, Bening is the high-powered editor in chief of some women's magazine who is having crises of conscience about the messages they are giving women. WHAAA? This whole movie is like a video-stream of Cosmo magazine. Not only is the hand-wringing about the models not being real people hypocritical, but it's also tired and cliche. Speaking of which, the writing in the movie is predictable to eye-muscle-fatigue-inducing levels. When Meg Ryan tells her mom she has no idea what it feels like to be betrayed old Candice (bless her sporting heart) heaves a deep sigh and says: "Let me take a guess... You feel you've been struck right in the stomach." No WAY! "You feel like you're in a dream... you know the one.. where you're falling and you can't stop." Get OUT Candice Bergen! Oh man, I bet YOU were betrayed too once! It all makes so much sense now.

Meg Ryan is "a good person. You know, I give money to homeless people. I recycle." Both these quotes had an invaluable third to strenghten their triptych of association, but I don't remember what. Suffice it to say, you've heard it before.

So I feel disappointed. I don't know what I was expecting. But this makes me feel depressed. Oh yes, when Meg Ryan takes a hit off of a joint she says-- you'll never guess! "I haven't done this since freshman year in college." Which is interesting ultimately because that's the level of maturation that any of these women have. That's the level of thought that this movie is aimed at. Which is not to diss college freshwommmyns, many of whom, I know from being their teacher, are way more articulate and composed. Add to all of these the fact that the women of the women are all your two-dimensional Sex and the city stereotypes, you find yourself nodding in beleaguered approval to people all over the world who announce "It's a Boy!" with something more than parental joy.