Only a total stick in the mud would deny Sigourney Weaver the pleasure of occasionally indulging herself in fluff like her new movie Heartbreakers. Baring your soul in intense, emotionally draining projects like The Ice Storm or A Map of the World has got to be some of the most grueling, albeit richly rewarding, work around; so, after a tough, demanding gig like, say, a stint in Death and the Maiden, who wouldn't need some down-time slumming in a no-brainer like Heartbreakers?
Problem is, Heatbreakers isn't just a no-brainer. It's a bad no-brainer. Weaver's done her share of lighter-than-air projects, but she's generally exhibited tremendous care and taste in their choosing. Heartbreakers is a notable departure and a major misstep for Sigourney and pretty much everyone else involved. It's just as goofy as previous Weaver projects like Ghostbusters or Galaxy Quest, but it's not even remotely in the same league. It's barely in the same dimension.
The Sigster and Jennifer Love Hewitt star as Max and Page, a mother-daughter team of con artists who support themselves by defrauding rich, gullible men. Their standard scam involves a three-part punch: 1. Max woos and then quickly marries her wealthy mark; 2. Hewitt (posing as a non-related bystander) seduces the groom just in time for the outraged bride to catch them in the act; and 3. an instant divorce is granted and the swindlers walk away with a healthy settlement.
Max and Page don't use their real names, natch, but that doesn't cause the slightest hitch as far as minor details like the arranging of their marriages, divorce papers, setting up bank accounts or dealing with taxes (all processes that figure in the movie's plot). Heartbreakers is one of those cheerfully idiotic flicks where nothing really makes sense, where everything is conveniently condensed into bite-size fragments designed for maximum digestibility and where almost everybody behaves like a moron simply in order to move the story along.
Even Page and Max, who are repeatedly referred to as "clever" and even "brilliant," never once rise above being seen as a collective assortment of boobs, butts and legs. That's supposed to be part of the fun here, no doubt, but the celebration of the female form comes off as tired, prurient and as hopelessly retarded as something you'd find on an old episode of Three's Company. From the early shot of Weaver flaunting herself in a form-fitting body stocking, to the first glimpse of Hewitt (a worm's eye view checking out ass and cleavage) it's abundantly clear that — despite the surface similarities with grifter comedies like Dirty Rotten Scoundrels or Bedtime Story — Heartbreakers is basically just another dumb T&A movie with a couple of big stars in it.
There's barely an original impulse in the entire film. The humor is mostly very broad, physical comedy and, while not nearly as painful as watching David Arquette roll around in dog poop in See Spot Run, most of it wouldn't be at all out of place being performed on stage at some fourth-rate dinner theater in (insert the horrible location of your choice here).
The movie's only real redeeming feature is Gene Hackman, playing one of the marks, who shines here like a laser beam cutting through a deep pool of mucus. Wonderfully repulsive as a chain-smoking, red-nosed crank, Hackman coughs, sneers and hacks his way through the movie with the sort of wild abandon that Heartbreakers could have sorely used more of. Jason Lee, who shows up as Hewitt's love interest, displays all the annoyingly bland, nice-guy appeal of TV's everyman du jour Ed. The rest of the cast is filled with has-beens and never-quite-was's like Ray Liotta (who only turns up at the beginning and the end) and Nora Dunn. Weaver, for her part, is competent, but not much more. Hewitt is a mere wisp of a presence, as blank and forgettable as ever.
Waiting for Yi Yi A funny thing happened to Yi Yi on the way to the Bay area a few months ago. The acclaimed Taiwanese film was all set to open at Clearwater's Main Street Cinema, which had just gone out on a limb and begun booking nonmainstream product and films from other parts of the world. The publicity machine, such as it is, was cranking: A just-short-of-rapturous review of Yi Yi ran in this column; an ad was placed in The Tampa Tribune and a mention of the film was prominently featured in the St. Petersburg Times (although, it should be noted, neither major daily actually managed to give the film a review of any sort).
Everything was in place, as much as it could be, for Yi Yi's big debut. Imagine our surprise, then — maybe yours, too — when opening day rolled around and Yi Yi was nowhere to be found.
It took a while to get to the bottom of Yi Yi's disappearing act. An early report by one concerned but obviously over-excited Main Street staffer had it that the film's U.S. release had been suddenly and inexplicably canceled. The truth, as it happens, is somewhat less ominous but no less strange. According to WinStar, the film's American distributor, increased demand for Yi Yi (the movie's been racking up all sorts of prestigious awards lately, including major nods from the film critics associations in New York and Boston) led to a rush job for more prints — which resulted in a serious subtitling screw-up in the lab over in Taiwan. Foreign films are a tough enough sell to local audiences these days, but backwards subtitles, conceptually interesting though they might be to some, are a little much to bear.
It was this lack of prints, and not some international anti-art conspiracy, that led to the cancelation of the Bay area screening (ditto for a major engagement in L.A.). The good news is that the new prints are at last ready, and we can finally expect to see Yi Yi on both sides of the Bay, possibly as early as this week. Main Street Cinema swears they'll be opening the film on March 23, and Tampa Theatre has also officially booked Yi Yi for a March run. At press time, it was uncertain whether Tampa Theatre would be holding on to House of Mirth for another week, but rest assured that once that film flutters away to the great cine-limboland between theatrical release and home video, local film buffs will finally be able to get a look at Yi Yi.
— See Outtakes for a review of Yi Yi.
This article appears in Mar 22-28, 2001.