Review: The Women (2008)

Another movie shot in Boston that pretends to be somewhere else (New York)... to which way say, Great!

"The Women" is based on a play and film from the 1930s. A cheated-on housewife stands by her man until public humiliation forces her to act. Someone call Mark Sanford's wife....

This remake keeps the outdated values of a 1930s film, but none of its charm or clever banter. It isn't funny. The only mildly amusing character is Cloris Leachman's smart-ass housekeeper. The rest are unlikeable female caricatures. They shop Newbury Street and Saks, and backstab, and get facelifts, and gossip, and get their nails done. Unlike your typical chick-flick, there's a total lack of romance or girl power here. Why would anybody want to watch this?

The summer of 2007 produced this annoying film simultaneously with "My Best Friend's Girl" and "The Pink Panther 2"...and all this before the Writers' Strike. Boston certainly appreciates the work, but let's keep pretending it's New York and/or Paris, okay?

Final Score = D-

Scoreboard!

Happy Friday! We periodically post a scoreboard of everything we have reviewed thus far. Of our Boston Movies Reviews, here is what we have:

A The Departed

A- Good Will Hunting

B Love Story

C The Bostonians

C Paul Blart: Mall Cop

D+ My Best Friend's Girl

D What Doesn't Kill You

F The Pink Panther 2

And for Not-Made-In-Boston Movie Reviews:

D- Knowing

Review: The Bostonians (1984)

We'd never heard of this movie, but a fellow PA claims that a scene was shot at her grandfather's house in Bunker Hill. Luckily, the public library has a copy of everything....

The Bostonians follows a woman's suffragist, Olive, and her Southern cousin, Basil, as they battle for the soul of young Verena. Should Verena stay with Olive, become the face of the women's movement and keep their weird lesbian vibe going? Or should she run off with Basil and spend the next decade barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?

Ultimately it doesn't matter because Verena is annoying and useless. She blubbers and sobs and frets about making decisions. Why either Olive or Basil finds her so enchanting is completely beyond me.

Christopher Reeve stars as Basil. It's hard to watch him play a twangy douchebag. Not so super. Some of the other cast members are okay, but this movie still drags. It feels like you've just watched the Masterpiece Theater version of "Mona Lisa Smile."

Final Score = C

A Letter to NBC

Dear NBC,

Regarding your problem with our two local guys, Jay Leno (Andover) and Conan O'Brien (Brookline), your proposed solution is the dumbest thing we've heard.

When Jay Leno retired from late night, you thought "Aw, he's such a nice guy. Just let him crash on the couch for a while." So you cleared out all your cooler, edgier houseguests to make room for a retiree (Southland's now stuck crashing over at TNT). His show took away the coveted 10pm time slot, when it's fair game to show dead bodies and naked butts. And guess what? We didn't want to watch.

Poor Jay and his poor, poor ratings. It suddenly seems that you, NBC, need him off your couch.

What is insane, however, is that your network thinks bumping Conan O'Brien's Tonight Show back to midnight will solve the problem. It won't.

You know the coveted 18-34 demographic -- those of us who stay up to watch late night television? We like Conan. He's closer to our age. He used to write for the Simpsons. We like his jokes better. If you push his show back to midnight, we're going to watch Jimmy Kimmel. Jay Leno's show was funny, in a grandfather's humor kind of way. The era has passed. Let it go, NBC. You can't call a mulligan on your television audience.

Now is the winter of our discontent...

Hope everyone survived Christmas and New Year's!

Now the waiting truly begins. If you're like us over here at The Boston Production Assistant, someone recently -- probably at a holiday party -- asked you, "So what are you working on next?"

To which you sheepishly replied, "I don't know yet." You might have launched into an explanation about seasonal work, unemployment benefits, or how producers from LA just don't work in snow. The person who asked nodded thoughtfully at your monologue, sipped his drink and secretly looked around for someone more interesting.

We've all been there. It's okay. Just hang on until March, when you suddenly can brag about how you "work in film" again. Of course, by then, you won't have time for parties... too busy xeroxing the blue paged rewrites and coallating scripts. Also, don't forget the Starbucks lattes, and make sure that they use soy milk.

Review: Love Story (1970)

We're going old school today -- before any of us here at The Boston Production Assistant were born! This is supposedly a classic, nominated for the Best Picture Oscar, "Love means never having to say you're sorry", etc.

Whereas, we're like, "Hey, it's the dad from Bones!"

Love Story, if nothing else, is very appropriately named: a rich Harvard hockey player has a meetcute with a poor Radcliffe librarian, they banter sarcastically, they run around in the snow, they get married, they work blue collar jobs to put him through Harvard law, he graduates, they try to have kids, she dies, he's sad. Done. All this is accomplished by the age of 25.

It's not amazing, but it's not bad. Granted, this blog grades on a curve. The two main characters are (annoyingly) realistic as Harvard students: She's self-righteous, sarcastic and outspoken; he has Daddy issues. We know people like Jenny and Oliver... we just don't hang out with them.

We were slightly amused to discover that most famous line comes from a moment when Jenny's locked herself out of their apartment. Random. Also, their apartment in Cambridge costs $80 per month! Wow, times have changed-- can't even get a shared sublet in Somerville for that!

We also like that Roger Ebert called out the film cliche of "Ali MacGraw's disease":

"Movie illness in which the only symptom is that the sufferer grows more beautiful as death approaches."

Nicole Kidman had the same thing in Moulin Rouge. Must be going around.

Final Score: B

Boston vs. the Paparazzi

In the previous post, we mentioned an incident where a PA was pushed down a flight of stairs by the paparazzi. This is highly uncommon. The photographer in question supposedly had flown in from LA and was apparently unfamiliar with what some might call "civility."

Boston, to our knowledge, does not have its own core of paparazzi. This is a good thing. It reminds us that, say, Katie Holmes standing in line at a Starbucks is NOT more important than the cancer-fighting MGH surgeon in line behind her. Nor is she better than the future rocket scientist, MIT-attending barista who makes her coffee.

We'd like to brag that this city has its priorities in the right place, but there's always exceptions. Take for example, Billy Costa, of Kiss 108fm. He merrily broadcasted the time and location of the Shutter Island wrap party (thus ensuring the stars would not be attending). Thanks a lot for that. Others at the Globe and the Phoenix, etc., make a living writing celebrity spottings, but luckily this is never front page news.

Let's keep it that way.