First things first: I am not the target audience for “The Women.”
This film, a remake of the 1933 classic, was written and directed by a woman (Diane English), loosely based on a play by a woman (Claire Booth Luce) and, except for the last scene, features nothing but women on-screen.
So far, so good. The trouble is that the women in “The Women” are obsessed with, in order of importance: men, shopping, hugging, shopping, clothes, plastic surgery, shopping, children, shopping and shopping. Oh, and shopping.
That — and not because I’m a man — is why I didn’t like “The Women.” I think women (and audiences in general) deserve better. A lot better.
In fact, I think if I were a woman, I would’ve liked “The Women” even less. The film has such a low opinion of women that it seems like it must’ve been made by some bitter dude who couldn’t get a date.
Here’s the plot: Four friends (all rich, all successful, all living in — where else? — New York) find their lives at various crossroads. Magazine editor Annette Bening fights to keep her job. Fashion designer Meg Ryan discovers her husband is cheating. Perpetually pregnant Debra Messing has another baby. And lesbian Jada Pinkett Smith ... well, she doesn’t do much, aside from making jokes about asking for directions and not changing the channel. (Oh, those darned men!)
The original “The Women” mocked these types (well, except for the lesbian), characters with too much money and too little compassion. But in 2008, after the box office success of “Sex and the City,” characters concerned about shoes and labels and plastic surgery and manicures are figures of admiration, not objects of derision. When, late in the movie (preceding the inevitable montage sequence), Bette Midler tells Ryan that the secret of life is to be selfish and think only about herself, it’s not meant to be a dark joke. It’s meant to be serious.
Looking for some way — any way — to appreciate “The Women,” I tried to think of a movie featuring all guys. There are plenty (mostly war movies), but the first one that came to mind was 1992’s “Glengarry Glen Ross.” It was written and directed by men (David Mamet and James Foley) and features an all-male cast. (There is a coat check girl, but I don’t think she has any lines.) And, like “The Women,” “Glengarry Glen Ross” is all about what it considers issues important to men: money, success (and failure — lots of failure), competition, desperation, earning your paycheck and hating your boss. But here’s the difference: You’re not supposed to admire the men in “Glengarry Glen Ross.” You’re supposed to despise them, pity them or detest them. And when the movie’s over, you’re just glad you’re not them.
