Prêt-à-Porter

I missed Ready to Wear when it was released in 1994, and finally rented the film. I had great anticipation. The fashion industry was the next to squirm under Mr. Altman's cinematic scalpel. Altman assembled a large, talented ensemble cast as usual. The locale is the annual prêt-à-porter fashion show in Paris, as a multitude of characters descend on hotels, fashion houses, restaurants, and runways; their stories intertwining and crisscrossing across a pastiche of interlocking plotlines. It'll be just like Nashville, in other words, another Altman tour de force.

Oddly and sadly, it's nothing of the sort. Ready to Wear loses its way early, and drifts aimlessly along for its lengthy 133 minute runtime. The characters lack the depth of his other films; they're poorly defined and you never really feel you get to know them. The dialogue is shallow and lacks bite. Even the little things tend to annoy; why use sidewalk dog poop as a unifying symbol? What's the point to that?

All in all I found Ready to Wear disappointing and probably my least favorite of Altman's films.

It's hard to understand why so many reputable critics have vilified this film, which is in Altman's Nashville mode—and indeed includes many of the elements that made that earlier film such a critical success. Both address the hypocrisy and viciousness of a big money-making industry, by interweaving a number of loosely connected stories acted by a large celebrity cast. Some of these stories work better than others, in both films; as a previous reviewer noted, in Pret-à-Porter, they all hinge on the central theme of betrayal, with a cumulative effect that is saddening as well as amusing.

The principal difference between the two films lies in the way they end. Nashville is closed off (to my mind, unconvincingly) by an assassination at a political rally. Ready to Wear ends with a breathtakingly beautiful, even erotic acting-out of the story of the Emperor's New Clothes, where almost none of the fashion-industry types realize that the bankrupt designer has clothed all of her models in...nothing. The only one who does get the joke is the clueless and incompetent reporter (Kim Basinger, from Texas, doing a fine retake on Geraldine Chaplin's annoying role in Nashville), who stalks off in a huff.

Apparently lots of critics stalked off in a huff, too. That's too bad, since the film has lots of good qualities. But you miss the point if you don't realize that it's all leading up to that big shaggy-dog-story punchline.

Although some Altman films are more tightly focused on a unifying narrative thread, for instance Gosford Park or Cookie's Fortune, Pret-a-porter employs the over-lapping ensemble format perhaps best exemplified in Nashville and, to some extent, MASH. I wonder, however, whether some reviewers have not missed the point of this film. Although there is not linear narrative line, the film is unified by a theme -- that of betrayal. Everyone appears to be betraying someone else in this film, whether a spouse, partner, or close relation, and ultimately wrapped in the naked fashion parade -- the industry betraying its consumers. There are weak aspects of the "plot" to be sure, but also some great performances -- Richard E Grant stands out as a camp classic, while Rupert Everett convincingly plays straight. And how Sophia Loren manages to maintain poise, look stunning, and put in a good comedic performance while wearing hugely over-sized hats is beyond me.

For me this movie is the antagonist to Pulp Fiction: It's underrated and while other commentators did fell asleep, I was fascinated all the time, especially the last scene and its sound track is marvelous, worth watching the whole movie.

I've seen it a couple of times. I understand Altman was maybe trying to create a disjointed, farcial almost surreal type atmosphere, but I found the lack of cohesiveness and clear cut thread annoying and it caused me to not care about the film or its characters. Being just a regular jane and not blessed with 15 or so credits in Film-making at NYU, the subtly of the art was lost on me. I desperately wanted just a little exposition to grab onto, and all the film's inside jokes and vague, obscure references to Italian films I found to be self indulgent. I'm not saying this film was bad - just bad for me. I think he could have pulled off the same feel and frenzied little European farce with a TOUCH more connective tissue in the plot. Not a lot, just a little for the audience to care about the story, the characters and whatnot. The thing I found in the film that I even cared more than a fig about was the Simone storyline.