What could have been a brilliant satire about civilization in a post-penile society gets mercilessly crushed under the weight of a clunky, wordy screenplay (NO one talks the way these characters do), horribly amateurish direction, and some of the worst production values since the days of 50s sci-fi. You'll laugh (but not at the jokes), you'll cry (out of agony), you'll wonder if it will ever end! Mary Woronov does an admirable job of trying to rise above the drudgery, but even her wealth of talent can't save this turkey. Filmed entirely in black and white (You know... "artsy!"), it looks like it was shot on video to save money. But no matter; even lustrous color wouldn't have helped. Lines fall flat. Cuts jump awkwardly. The action rolls along like a square wheel. Odd camera angles appear for no apparent conceptual reason. And when not speaking, the actors often look desperately hopeful but cruelly embarrassed. One has to hope that neither director Todd Hughes nor the producers quit their day jobs to make this, because from this effort it appears that none of them have ever actually seen a movie before, but have had one carefully described to them by a third party. With even a passing nod to semi-professional production or writing, this could have been a gem -- but the New Women smells like old fish. Run away, run away!
Review of The New Women
