MEN are scum. That was the predominant theme in 1975’s “The Stepford Wives,” a dark and creepy adaptation of Ira Levin’s sharply satirical novel about feminism scaring the bejesus out of the male animal.
In the remake, which opens today, men are obnoxious wusses and career women rule (until deposed).
Screenwriter Paul Rudnick, of “In & Out,” “Jeffrey” and “Addams Family Values,” brings “The Stepford Wives” into the 21st century. He adds a few welcome plot twists, and a delightfully demented sense of humor that replaces the horrific undertone that made the original a chiller.
So don’t go expecting a clone of the’75 film.
Expect a funnier and more outrageous movie that’s more entertaining, despite two plot elements — telling you would spoil the story — that make no sense in a logical universe. To best enjoy the picture, convince your brain to mind its own business when it starts making caustic comments.
Luckily, director Frank Oz moves things along so quickly that you can’t dwell on the gaffes too long.
A strong cast that adds plenty of personality also helps negate the flaws.
Although Nicole Kidman’s is the only name about the title, “The Stepford Wives” plays like an ensemble piece, with Matthew Broderick. Bette Midler, Roger Bart, Christopher Walken and Glenn Close stealing scene after scene from the Oscar-winning star of “The Hours.”
Not that the actress needs a prosthetic nose to make the camera cherish her. Kidman takes Type-A Joanna Eberhart through enough emotional hoops to remind you she can act playful as well as insufferable.
Learning that she’s been fired as head of a hot TV network — because of an unfixable fiasco stemming from a female-empowerment reality show — cocky Joanna goes from freeze-face to happy-face to meltdown in seconds.
A short hospitalization later, she and her sympathetic husband Walter (an appealingly befuddled Broderick) move to picture-perfect Stepford, a gated Connecticut community where all the lawns are well-manicured, all the houses are clean, and all the wives look perfect and adore their husbands.
When perpetually upbeat Claire Wellington (Close), the town’s welcoming committee, sees uncommunicative Joanna clad in black and hiding behind dark shades, Claire asks, “Electroshock?”
Hearing Walter answer in the affirmative, Claire gives Joanna a big smile and says, “Hello, little Energizer.”
Love that writing.
“The Stepford Wives” follows the original’s basic blueprint: Attracted to an idyllic town full of semi-nerdy men married to sexy, stunning women, Walter joins the mysterious Men’s Association to hang with the guys and find out how to make his wife perfect, too.
The’75 film was built around Katharine Ross’ character’s growing horror at the robotic behavior of her neighbors and friends.
In the update, Joanna and her sidekicks Bobbie Markowitz (Midler) and Roger Bannister (Bart), also recent Stepford residents, act more perplexed and bemused as they try to figure out why the town’s women are so euphoric.
It doesn’t seem natural to sloppy, sharp-tongued Bobbie, author of a best-selling book about her mother titled “I Love You But Please Die.”
Roger takes to the Stepford wives’ appreciation of style and decoration. To the consternation of his conservative partner Jerry (David Marshall Grant), Roger revels in his flamboyance — and theirs.
Things become curiouser and curiouser when lovely Sarah Sunderson (Faith Hill) spins out of control at a dance, and Joanna see sparks fly from Susan’s ears.
That is, unless Joanna is still looney-tunes.
Unlike the original, the thing that turns the Stepford wives into Betty Crocker clones is clear from the get-go, give or take a shard of exposition.
So it’s up to the cast to keep you intrigued and the writing to keep you amused.
They succeed in making you laugh out loud several times.
As town patriarch and Men’s Association leader Mike Wellington, Walken adds color just by showing up. A man who appears to love delivering lines, Walken creates a character who makes you more wary than frightened.
Which is just as well in a comedy. The scariest thing is Close’s performance, which is eerie enough to keep you squirming every time she’s on camera. She’s Norma Desmond air-brushed and at a children’s birthday party.
You can e-mail Barry Caine at bcaine@angnewspapers.com or call (925) 416-4806.
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