The Stepford Wives
Cynthia Fuchs, 11 June 2004
Uptight workaholic and TV
network powerhouse Joanna Eberhart (Nicole Kidman) "barely knows"
her two kids and has left her husband Walter (Matthew Broderick)
feeling impotent. That's not to say she's a ball-buster exactly, but
she does have her priorities skewed. She has a styling, sharp-edged
haircut and the niftiest of black suits, but she has no life that
she can identify.
Her paucity of spirit is odiously
illustrated during the first five minutes of The Stepford Wives,
when, before an audience of like-coiffed TV execs, she offers up her
latest reality program, I Can Do Better. The pilot has wussy
Omaha husband Hank (Mike White) learning his wife prefers a bevy of
XXX-actors to him. (She can do better.) He shows up at the
presentation with a gun that he's recently used on his wife. (Just
how he gets in the door with it is unclear -- shoddy security at
this corporate HQ.) Joanna is duly punished for setting up the
network for lawsuits out the wazoo: she's fired ("We have
shareholders," moans her boss, suddenly a moral ground, or at least
a monetary one).
Worse, Walter moves Joanna and
their nondescript kids to Stepford, Connecticut, where the community
is gated, the driveways are long, and the vast lawns are manicured.
Understandably groggy following her electro-shock therapy
(apparently, this explains how Walter entices her to these upscale
boonies in the first place), Joanna doesn't quite notice how scary
the place really is. Even after being greeted at their gargantuan
front door by demonic-seeming flower-basket-pocketbook-holding local
snoot Claire (Glenn Close), Joanna goes along the next morning to
"workout" class, where she leans wanly against the wall as the
Stepford wifeys wear pastel sundresses, wave their arms to
approximate exercise, and smile way too brightly.
Though it's instantly clear that
the wives aren't precisely thinking for themselves, Joanna is
shocked, shocked (!) to see one of them sputter out of control at
the hoedown, where Claire and her foofy crew slap their knees and
whoop with glee when the square-dancing starts. The fun comes
crashing to a brief halt when one of the gals, Sarah (Faith Hill,
with little to do here except look strained and thin), sputters into
a robotic meltdown, spinning in circles and yelping, "Do-si-do! Do-si-do!"
and spewing literal sparks. This little performance does get
Joanna's attention, but when Walter calls her out one night for
being a bad (self-absorbed, career-minded, and castrating) partner,
she wakes up the next morning raring to wear pink and bake a kitchen
full of cupcakes.
Because she is so utterly and
annoyingly guilt-trippable, Joanna hardly seems in need of
Stepfordization by the Men's Association. And yet, there they are,
snarkling over the upcoming procedure, indoctrinating Walter,
hanging out at what is reportedly the same mansion used in the first
and far superior version of this movie. Headed by Mr. Claire, that
is, Mike (Christopher Walken), the Association is comprised of
"drooling nerds" who smoke cigars, drink booze, and play with
remote-controlled cars. Aside from being called "King" while having
sex with bosomy wives in lavender negligees, such tedious activities
appear to be the extent of their life ambitions. Welcome to the 21st
century, guys. And oh yes, grow up.
In other words, Ira Levin's campy
concept, already dated in 1975, now looks positively Neanderthal.
And ostensible efforts at updating only muck up the works more
profoundly. As if dealing with Walter's tedious retardation is not
enough, Joanna must also confront the stereotypical spectacle of her
as-yet-unturned neighbors, ornery-Jewish-feminist-author Bobbi
(Bette Midler), married to slovenly Dave (Jon Lovitz) and fabulous,
highlighty-haired gay man Roger (Roger Bart), married to stodgy gay
Republican Jerry (David Marshall Grant). The logic here is baffling
-- Dave or Jerry don't begin to fit in with the rest of the twitty
Though an overtly gay Stepford
Wives is certainly conceivable (as the original film is all
about dragging feminine stereotypes), Frank Oz's evidently rewritten
and recut incarnation (script attributed to Paul Rudnick) doesn't
have the necessary teeth. That's not to say that Joanna's catty
quotient isn't much improved when she's around Bobbi and Roger, but
alas, she's prone to losing track of her skeptical and self-knowing
trajectory. Slipping in and out of resistance and submission modes,
Joanna becomes increasingly incoherent, as does the film (which
looks hacked together with a chainsaw, especially when the final
coda comes up, undoing Katherine Ross' nasty legacy with a seeming
happy ending that might best be described as witless).
The remade Roger wears a suit and
stands at a flag-draped podium, where he announces, "I believe in
Stepford, America, and the power of prayer." Bobbi 2 is blond and
wasp-waisted, determined to ensure her chubby sons have every food
item their hearts desire. Perhaps most unbelievable of all, Joanna's
internet research leads her directly to a correct conclusion.
Or... wait. The movie can't even
come to its own conclusion about what the procedure involves. For a
minute, it appears that, as before, it's the result of a wife's
murder and replacement with a robot. But maybe it's drugs. Or maybe
it's brainwashing. Or maybe it's microchips implanted in the brain.
But this logic (absurd as it is) is undermined at film's end with a
"twist" that looks awfully like blaming the victim. This muddle
seems a likely result of the rumored disagreements on the set and
last-minute reshoots. The parody is stale, the jokes unfunny, and
Glenn Close tries too darn hard.
Matthew Broderick Midler
PG-13 - Parents
Some material may
be inappropriate for
children under 13.