Okay, here's the deal. If you've been a loyal fanatic and coming to the clinic the way you should, you'll know that my biggest problem in life has nothing to do with movies. Yes, folks, my problem is with the female of my species. I tend to go what my daddy used to call "pole-axed blind" from time to time, and wind up married. Generally, I might add, to a damsel who finds out quickly that being the ex-Mrs. Doc is more often than not highly preferable to being Mrs. Doc. Probably not so coincidentally, most of these escapades have had three things in common -- a lovely smile, a weak moment, and an inordinate amount of distilled Caribbean spirits.
You might think, that I'd be a charter member of the He-Man Woman Haters Club. Far from it. I love women. I thoroughly adore women. I just can't figure them out worth a damn. I'd be much better off marrying a Rubiks' Cube. At least there's a book you can buy to tell you how to solve that.
And, for the life of me, I can't understand how a woman can read a man's mind almost the very second she meets him, and a man can spend ten years with a woman and have virtually no idea what she's planning, thinking, or thinking of planning. Note to those scientists that finally broke the Genetic Code -- you find that gene, and you'll have the cover of Sports Illustrated, Playboy, and probably Popular Mechanics.
I think that's what really drove me to want to see Mel Gibson's new film, What Women Want, so much. Hey, I ain't picky where I get my answers, as long as I get 'em. It helped some, believe it or not, but it also turned out to be a really good movie. Or, rather, a really good three-fourths of a movie.
Nick Marshall (Gibson) is your typical oh-so self-confident chauvinistic playboy. He calls the women around him things like "babe" and "honey," and he's legendary for getting the ladies into the sack. Nick's in line for a big promotion at his ad agency, and he's feeling fine. Then, he gets the rug pulled out from under him when a new hire named Darcy Maguire (Helen Hunt) gets the job. The agency is trying to get a grasp on the increasingly female-driven market, and putting a chauvinist in the job ain't gonna work.
Then, Nick has a slight accident -- he almost electrocutes himself. The accident leaves him alive, but with the strange ability to read women's minds. At first, he's freaked out by the ability, but once he learns how to use it, he realizes just how much power he has now. He starts using it to undermine Darcy. The more he learns about women, though, the more he learns how to be a better man. Kinda like Tootsie, but without the dress and the accent.
First, I gotta hand out kudos to director Nancy Meyers (The Parent Trap). She makes this film a wonderful nod to those Rock Hudson/Doris Day films, where Rock was always the man who treated women like sex objects and Doris was the woman that made him change his mind. And snagging Mel for the lead here was a stroke of genius. Mel has had a string of hardline serious roles (The Patriot, Payback, Braveheart, etc.), and this one relieves his brow and gives him a chance to smile. He is, quite honestly, a funny actor with smooth comedic timing. It's just that, more often than not, when he does get a comedy role, it's in a movie that sucks rocks (remember Bird on a Wire?). When he gets to be funny in the Lethal Weapon series, it's brief, then it's back to shooting people. He even gets to dance here, and does a nice job with the routine.
Helen Hunt finally gets a chance to be glamorous instead of a beautiful woman dressing down to be frumpy. And, she gets to go back to the comedy style from Mad About You, which suits her. She comes in like a sexy barracuda, one who can charm with a smile, or kill you with it, depending on what she wants to do. Most women tend to fade quickly when matched up with Mel. No fault of theirs, mind you, but it's almost a rule that women take a back
seat in a Mel movie. Jodie Foster held her own quite nicely in Maverick, and, well, if Helen can hold the screen with Nicholson, she can hold her own with Mel.
That said, I have a question for Nancy Meyers. Nancy, ma'am, why can you not leave your movies alone? Why must you completely spoil a film in the last quarter of it? You did the same thing in your script for Baby Boom with Diane Keaton. You had a smart, funny movie going for you, with a smart, funny script, then, boom, you drop all that for a syrupy third act that completely changes every character in the script into Bizarro-World versions of themselves? Here, you have Mel going smooth, Helen working well, you even have the Amazing Vanishing Woman (otherwise known as Marisa Tomei, who plays one of Mel's girlfriends) back in the swing of things. Then, boom, everyone has this fairydust cloud go through and the whole tone of the movie goes sickeningly sweet? It's like drinking a nice glass of wine and suddenly, the last third of the glass is full of vanilla extract!
Look, friends and neighbors, forgive Nancy for her shortcomings, and you can, indeed, have a fun night at the dodecaplex. This one is not going to have political statements or change your whole outlook on Scotland's freedom or anything, but, maybe, once in a while, a well-done piece of fluff is as welcome as cotton candy at the fair. You may have ridden all the rides before, and the freak show disappointed you, but the cotton candy makes the trip worthwhile. It's a fun premise, and it's acted well by some people who know comedy. Put something sour in your mouth for the last act, and all will balance out perfectly....
Image copyright Paramount Pictures.
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in for observation