The fact that the book actually has a comic undertone indicates that even when the feminism of the story has dated badly, it could be done quite well as a wicked, even mean-spirited black comedy of sorts. As a matter of fact, the great opening montage with its Danny Elfman-like music and portraits of women in the 50s suggests this is exactly what it is aiming for: skewering American complacency, Ozzie and Harriet, and the notion of the Perfect Wife.
For the first hour, we're swiftly introduced to Joanna Eberhart (Nicole Kidman, channeling Faye Dunaway from NETWORK and brilliant at the moment she gets canned from her network for having gone too far with her reality shows) and Walter Kresby (Matthew Broderick, emasculated but not as mean as the novel's version), Bobbie and David Markowitz (Bette Midler, her usual loud self and true to the novel's depiction of the character and Jon Lovitz, also emasculated, a little underwritten), and a gay couple, Roger Bannister (Roger Bart, flamboyant and catty, almost walking away with the movie) and Jerry Harmon (David Marshall Grant, appropriately subdued). We also get to meet the Stepford residents, of which Claire Wellington (Glenn Close) stands out as she maniacally tosses around her 1950s uber-femininity as if her life depends on it and nearly comes off as a drag queen. Claire is married to Mike Wellington (Christopher Walken, playing himself as usual). Other residents include Faith Hill in a small but funny part as a Stepford wife who seems to malfunction quite a bit. This quasi black comedy of manners works well for its setup.
Until the 60 minute mark.
It's then that everything that made the novel work falls apart. Logic goes out the window, the plot supposedly becomes a mystery, and then magically there's a twist at the climactic moment which is only there to please a crowd of people who would not accept the original, ironic ending and one whom no one would have seen coming. When you cop out so openly as this movie does (you can actually feel the exact moment when the story, so far good, punches out and goes into autopilot) you're insulting the public's intelligence. And that's not a good thing to do. It just indicates a high level of laziness usually reserved for cheap exploitation movies or dumbed-down franchise sequels, not for something as high-profile as this.
For the first hour, we're swiftly introduced to Joanna Eberhart (Nicole Kidman, channeling Faye Dunaway from NETWORK and brilliant at the moment she gets canned from her network for having gone too far with her reality shows) and Walter Kresby (Matthew Broderick, emasculated but not as mean as the novel's version), Bobbie and David Markowitz (Bette Midler, her usual loud self and true to the novel's depiction of the character and Jon Lovitz, also emasculated, a little underwritten), and a gay couple, Roger Bannister (Roger Bart, flamboyant and catty, almost walking away with the movie) and Jerry Harmon (David Marshall Grant, appropriately subdued). We also get to meet the Stepford residents, of which Claire Wellington (Glenn Close) stands out as she maniacally tosses around her 1950s uber-femininity as if her life depends on it and nearly comes off as a drag queen. Claire is married to Mike Wellington (Christopher Walken, playing himself as usual). Other residents include Faith Hill in a small but funny part as a Stepford wife who seems to malfunction quite a bit. This quasi black comedy of manners works well for its setup.
Until the 60 minute mark.
It's then that everything that made the novel work falls apart. Logic goes out the window, the plot supposedly becomes a mystery, and then magically there's a twist at the climactic moment which is only there to please a crowd of people who would not accept the original, ironic ending and one whom no one would have seen coming. When you cop out so openly as this movie does (you can actually feel the exact moment when the story, so far good, punches out and goes into autopilot) you're insulting the public's intelligence. And that's not a good thing to do. It just indicates a high level of laziness usually reserved for cheap exploitation movies or dumbed-down franchise sequels, not for something as high-profile as this.