michellehayworth

*** 1/2 stars out of ****

Almost every French actress I can rhyme off without help from the audience is in the cast of François Ozon's 8 Femmes, a delightfully odd murder mystery with song-and-dance interludes--imagine if John Waters had directed Clue. The film takes place during Christmastime in 1950s France at a country manor where various women have gathered to celebrate the holidays with Marcel, the only significant man in any of their lives. But Marcel has been stabbed in the back (literally), and a snow drift outside leaves the eight femmes of the title stranded together with nothing to do other than accuse each other of his murder. Was it Marcel's loveless wife (Catherine Deneuve)? One of his off-kilter daughters (Virginie Ledoyen and Ludivine Sagnier)? The "ugly" sister-in-law (Isabelle Huppert, donning horn-rimmed glasses) or patently dishonest mother-in-law (Danielle Darrieux)? His promiscuous sister by blood (Fanny Ardant)? Or did the butler--rather, either of the two maidservants (Firmine Richard and Emmanuelle Béart)--do it? With a plot that strikes as stream-of-consciousness and musical numbers that do, too, 8 Femmes indicates little desire to change the world, but it works as a frothy, hyper-theatrical experience. Compounding the amusement are the sparse, candy-coloured sets--which bring to mind Gold Key's exiguously-drawn comics from yesteryear--and watching so many famously sedate performers let their hair down; one can't imagine the Meg Ryan remake of The Women, in lieu of which this film was made, being half as much fun.

I know it sounds corny but MATES, written by female scribe Claudia Salter, pulls out all the punches in letting you know this candidate, Magnum himself, is a man of dignity and pride. A man our country so desperately needs in our cynical, money grabbing world that is our society today. It's the Clinton aftermath and Pryce and his loyal campaign manager Lauren, (Laura Linney) who has wanted to be president herself ever since she was a child, is leading Pryce into a smooth victory using all the manipulating tasks and strategies that are most assuredly common place in today's elections. Including having Pryce's daughter run up to him while he is on camera for a `planned spontaneous emotional moment.'

This infuriates Mrs. Pryce (Nancy Travis) who tells the overzealous Lauren, `You are never to use my daughter again. She will not be a tool in your campaign agenda!' Meow! But something suggests these women have more in common than the concern of Governor Pryce. Lauren is also an ex-girlfriend of his, and so are his social secretary (Teri Hatcher) and one of his political chums (Faye Dunaway), who desperately wants Prcye to choose her husband (Robert Culp) as his VP. Apparently before Pryce devoted all his love to Mrs. Pryce he passed his love around generously.

RUNNING MATES, a TNT Original film, is good TV but without much controversy. Sure there is an established 'bad guy' (Bruce McGill) who would do anything to nab the job of vice president, it's quite clear he doesn't have a chance in hell of being president so why not the next best thing. But overall the film is consistently too nice. In one out of place scene Lauren has a dispute with Pryce and storms off to her hotel room and then, `knock-knock', she is suddenly surrounded by all his exes and his current wife. They all console her and then compare sex stories with Pryce, including his wife!? This comes out of no where when just minutes earlier the women didn't care for each other in the least. It seems to have been added only to fit the bill of having all these ladies (Travis, Dunaway, Hatcher, Linney) in a room together talking smut.

And just when you thought Pryce might turn out to be a sellout something remarkable happens right out of left field. No explanation is given as to why and a much needed previous scene to suggest his mind frame is non-existent. Instead we are left to read his mind and think, `He did it because it was the right thing to do, right?' But, then again, that's never stopped a politician before? So who knows!

Guess what? Everyone in Hollywood is vain! That's the big revelation according to this muddled misfire of a really great idea from co-producer/co-writer Billy Crystal. He had something really meaty to bite into here - not things we already know like demanding movie stars and their all-important public profile, but the seamy world of the agents, publicists, studio execs and journalists who regulate their profiles. It's a world Crystal knows well; he's hosted enough Oscar ceremonies to understand the bitchiness behind the scenes. He adds a lot of inside jokes to the film, from the bag of goodies designed to entice journos to the junket to the circling studio execs who would let their biggest star suicide if it would boost the box office (as Stanley Tucci contemplates here). Yet Crystal's script, based largely on his experiences, is a real toothless tiger. Instead of going for the throat on the unethical goings-on of those behind the stars, it goes for standard laughs about the stars' glossy lifestyle and vain insecurities. Almost every scene ends in a one-liner, and the funniest one - when a doberman takes an interest in Crystal's crotch - is even repeated at the film's end. The result is as much a revealing look at Hollywood mechanics as a drive through Beverly Hills. It also proves that not even four heavyweight A-list actors can rescue a poorly scripted film. Catherine Zeta-Jones, John Cusack, and Billy Crystal have absolutely no rapport, while world's number one star Julia Roberts (basically a bit player here) has less chemistry with Cusack than Crystal has with the doberman. There are some crackerjack jokes, like Crystal's "You lost 60 pounds? That's a whole Backstreet Boy!" and the way lisping Latino Hank Azaria keeps pronouncing "junket" as "honket." But few of what's intended hits the mark. Zeta-Jones' demanding starlet isn't bitchy enough to be truly monstrous (didn't she see Bette Midler in Drowning Mona?) and Roberts' delectable underdog is a role way beneath her. It consists of smiling painfully and awaiting the inevitable. Mildly entertaining but instantly forgettable, America's Sweethearts is a talent-heavy misfire.