Silver Screen Reviews

SWEET HOME ALABAMA

Try telling someone you come from the “Heart of Dixie.” Typical responses range from, “Do you have Southern hospitality?” to, “Did you have chickens?” So, “Sweet Home Alabama’s” simple premise of a girl being embarrassed about coming from Alabama and wanting to make something of herself is completely feasible. It is possible that with beauty, talent and a sense of humor about the South, she can succeed in New York City. The departure from reality comes when she falls so madly in love with a politician that he pops the question, and it slips her mind that she had a shotgun wedding shortly after high school, and her husband will not divorce her.

In “Sweet Home Alabama,” Melanie Carmichael (Reese Witherspoon) is said girl from Alabama who becomes fashion’s “next big thing” in New York City, complete with a rich politician boyfriend, Andrew (Patrick Dempsey), who wants to marry her. However, Melanie falters when she revisits home to force Jake (Josh Lucas), her husband, to sign the divorce papers. What’s a girl to do? Actually, it is pretty obvious where the movie leads; it’s just a matter of how many times the filmmakers psyche you out before the inevitable conclusion. However, one interesting question is raised; is it cheating if one man is your husband and another your fiancé?

Aside from that gem, the script tries hard, but does little more than give a more accurate portrayal of the average redneck than, say, “Deliverance.” Reese Witherspoon’s comic timing, honed in both “Election” and “Legally Blonde,” stands out in this movie; very few gags in the script work, but almost all that do are because of her. Notable among the supporting cast are Jean Smart (“Designing Women”) and Candice Bergen (“Murphy Brown”) as the mothers of Jake and Andrew, respectively. Ms. Smart plays a wise Southern mama to Ms. Bergen’s New York bitch. The two women may not be breaking new ground in these roles, but, somehow, it works.

The only other aspect worth mentioning in “Sweet Home Alabama” is the soundtrack-it’s heavy on the country. Numbers like “Keep Your Hands to Yourself” are grating enough that, if nothing else, the audience might forget some of the sappier lines.

At one point, Jake says, “Just because I talk slow, doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” The opposite can be said about “Sweet Home Alabama”: just because it goes by quickly, doesn’t mean it’s smart, either.

–Natalie Bickerton, Contributing Writer

8 WOMEN

Imagine John Waters with a harem of mysterious, intoxicating French beauties. Now picture the delightfully warped director placing them in a complicated foreign film based on the movie “Clue” that takes place on a provincial French manor over the course of an entire day in the 1950s. Add strange, cabaret-style song-and-dance numbers, and you’ve got something vaguely similar to “8 Women,” a deliciously odd comedic murder mystery/quasi-musical that is a true wonder for the imagination. These eight French babes of all shapes and ages gather together to celebrate Christmas with Marcel, the only significant man in their lives. But Marcel has been– gasp– stabbed in the back and an all-too-convenient snowdrift has left these femmes fatales stranded together with nothing to do but accuse each other of his murder. Was it Marcel’s greedy, loveless wife (Catherine Deneuve)? His youngest daughter (Virginie Ledoyen), a sex-obsessed super-sleuth, or perhaps his oldest (Ludivine Sagnier), home from college with a bun in the oven? Maybe it was the “ugly duckling” sister-in-law (the gorgeous Isabelle Huppert, donning horn-rimmed glasses and the frigid attitude of a virginal librarian)?

Does it matter, when Catherine Deneuve–the radiant, international prom queen of yesteryear-has a starring role? I defy you to pay attention to the subtitles on the bottom of the screen when she takes center stage. Any true fan of foreign movies must pay the price of admission just to watch her at her best (and wicked worst). See Catherine chain smoke! See Catherine bitch, slap faces and partake in a little girl-on-girl wrestling! Marvel as she chews scenery like a stick of Juicy Fruit! Watch her smash a bottle of liquor over her fictional mother’s head! Listen to her sing! Well, perhaps not for the singing. The language barrier proves unkind in the translation of the bizarre, off-putting musical numbers that reveal each character’s flaw or secret desire. Some provide a generous chuckle, but most produce a wince; nobody said it was kosher for a character to reveal her ultimate alienation or hidden homosexuality while caterwauling over the French equivalent of elevator music.

However, the flick offers so many candy-coated distractions – everything from the décor of the manor to the period piece costumes to the overly dramatic lighting send the viewer into a dizzying fit of claustrophobia – that much of the movie plays through as disposable high camp rather than a cohesive, even blend of diverse genres.

The real jolt comes at the seriously disturbing end, which, despite countless predictable twists and turns, seems disorienting and completely unnecessary. Perhaps it doesn’t matter.. Don’t question any of it too much. Allow yourself to be whisked away to a frothy, hyper-theatrical existence, where the women think they can live without men, where they point fingers, tear each other’s hair out and weep, and– most importantly–where Lady Catherine rules the roost.

–Justin Conforti, MUSE Staff