Hawn smooths rough edges of 'The First Wives Club'
Hawn smooths rough edges of 'The First Wives Club'
By Dini S. Djalal
JAKARTA (JP): "Don't get mad. Get everything," declares Ivana
Trump in The First Wives Club. Spoken like a true pro who knows
only too well the point of this controversial "feminist" film.
The film could have been about her and countless other women
facing middle age, and the husbands who don't want to know about
it. After giving the best years of her life to helping the Donald
build his fortune, Manhattan's most famous first wife was dumped
for a younger, blonder woman.
Did Ivana soak her Hermes silks in tears? Perhaps, but she
also got a new hairdo, a nose job, the sympathy of the tabloid-
reading world, and an alimony agreement worth the GDP of a small
third world country.
Real stories like Ivana's are what made this film such a hit.
Within four months of hitting the screens, The First Wives Club
grossed US$100 million in the United States, and it looks to
double this with international distribution. The film struck such
a chord among jilted wives (and their ex-husbands) that it
sparked debates across the U.S., culminating in a Time Magazine
cover story on the contentious topic of vengeful partners. Even
Goldie Hawn was rescued from the has-been bin and renamed
champion of girl power.
But is the film as relevant as its hype, or are adult women
just starved of films they can relate to? The answer may lie in
your marital status. There's no denying the film's good points; a
great set in rich colors to match the Upper East Side
personalities, and a great script full of punchy one-liners ("You
are genuinely happy ... lithium?"). But as funny as the jokes
are, a recent divorcee may laugh just a tad louder. She may even
laugh off the film's rough edges, of which there are many.
Feminist swindlers
First, the premise. Three school chums (Goldie Hawn as Elise,
Diane Keaton as Annie, and Bette Midler as Brenda) reunite after
mutual pal Cynthia dives to her death out of her Park Avenue
penthouse. While mourning their heiress friend, the trio discover
that they still share many things in common, with the most
significant being philandering husbands. They decide to get even.
And, according to Hollywood, how do many Americans spell revenge?
M-o-n-e-y.
This Hollywood mentality also implies that once the newly-
empowered threesome crunch their heads together, they're
unbeatable swindlers. It also hints that all they needed to tap
their individual savvy, and hence regain self-esteem, was freedom
from their husbands. This is empowerment? Can an open check
compensate for a failed marriage? Free women in a free market
indeed. The assumption that counting cash equals a lover reveals
that this well-intentioned film has veered off the mark.
For example, the women complain that their husbands dared to
leave them after twenty-odd years of selflessly helping their
careers. Excuse my unfashionably romantic notions, but shouldn't
marriage be more than just a business transaction? If this is the
face of 90s feminism, take me back to the kitchen.
Crude representation is essentially the film's biggest
failure. This is a film about women for women, right? Then why do
the female roles, dominant though they may be, seem like they
walked straight off a Disney storyboard? Why are they all over-
the-top whingeing ninnies? This film is a cartoon -- just listen
to the background music, an homage to Tom & Jerry.
Take Keaton, one of the cinema's most charismatic and
intelligent actresses (Annie Hall, Reds, The Godfather trilogy).
Here she's reduced to a shrieking, babbling shrew. While Bette
Midler (Beaches) may be forgiven for playing another catty nag as
she rarely takes on other roles, making Keaton scream, cross her
eyes, and even join a chorus line is practically criminal. It's
damaging to both her reputation and that of women out there
trying to gain a little respect.
However, the wives look positively stoic next to the
girlfriends -- another mockery of real women. Sarah Jessica
Parker (Honeymoon in Vegas) has perfect comic timing as social
climber Shelly, but she is one big joke. She's green, lean, and
mean, with not one sympathetic bone in her bulimic body. Making
the mistresses grotesque may be key to making the wives look
good, but please, put some meat into the enemy.
The only one with a fleshy, albeit finely toned, role is
Goldie Hawn (Private Benjamin), who, as aging actress Elise
Eliot, may well be playing herself. Hawn is a well-preserved 51
years old, but, like her character, she admits she works hard to
look young. In the collagen-addicted Elise, Hawn has found her
catharsis.
Unlike the miscast Keaton and the typecast Midler, Hawn both
softens and hardens the dumb blonde stereotype. Sure she's a sex
kitten, but Hawn can switch from a demure purr to a shrill meow.
Like her wild blond mane, Hawn is radiant -- and brilliant.
And with scriptwriter Robert Harling (who adapted the
screenplay from Olivia Goldsmith's best-selling first novel), she
saves the movie. It's a pretty big accomplishment.
A map of where the film went wrong is like a sketch of Bangkok
traffic. For one, the editing. Sometimes the tempo is picture
perfect, but at other times the splices seem whacked off by a
lumberjack's axe, with long awkward moments between the bumps.
Considering that editor John Bloom won an Academy Award for
Gandhi, the choppiness is surprising.
The sitcom format doesn't help the artificial mood. You know
the scene by heart -- somebody does a slapstick gag, another mugs
a stupid look, while another screams in shock, when in fact
there's not much surprise value to the scene at all.
Who's the culprit? Well, it's produced by Scott Rudin, who
usually hits the jackpot (Clueless, Sister Act, The Addams
Family). Judging by his films, Rudin's obviously got a soft spot
for off-the-wall comedies.
His choice of director may be the problem. No wonder The First
Wives Club looks like a sitcom as Hugh Wilson was the man behind
TV staple WKRP in Cincinatti. Wilson also directed Police
Academy. With knowledge of these credentials, the film's cartoon
feel and its bloopers start making sense.