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 Probe Movie Review by Alice Higgins Professor of Wymyn's Studies University of Toronto Divine Secrets Of The Ya-Ya Sisterhood Rating: 0 stars (out of 5) A film like this begs the question, "What's worse? A phallus-waving testosterone-fest featuring guns, swords, or other penile replacements? Or Sandra Bullock?" With the release of this film, that question becomes as imponderable as the origin of the pyramids, or the popularity of Tom Green. It's sad, too, because there were initially some interesting elements to the film, such as the lead character Vivi's (Ellen Burstyn) rabid anti-male bias. She's married, but her husband (James Garner, looking more and more like Lurching Corpse #3 from The Mummy Returns) has -- after fulfilling his role as a sperm donor -- been banished to a separate bedroom while her own remains locked to him. She also refuses to attend the wedding of her daughter (Bullock) who is marrying -- you guessed it -- a man. After Bullock whines incessantly to a Time magazine reporter about her terrible childhood, Vivi's friends (the titular Ya-Ya Sisterhood) kidnap her and attempt to explain to her why her mother is such a basket case. And a note about this so-called sisterhood... they are three of the most annoying characters I have seen on screen since Sorority Boys. This "sisterhood" pretty much consists of sitting around drinking and screaming "Ya-Ya!" which is destined to become the most annoying catch-phrase since the "Yeah, baby!" scare of a few years back. Give me two hours with these wymyn and four Indigo Girls tickets... I'll show them what a true sisterhood is all about. At no point does anybody stop to consider that Vivi is right, and that the rest of the people in the film are wrong. I see nothing wrong with Vivi's character (although rather than pounding back Bloody Marys like she does, I tend to drown my sorrows in a wonderful chamomile tea I discovered.) Vivi is insular, dislikes men, and is unable to love, and this film treats her like some kind of freak rather than an efficient time-manager. And of course, this being produced by the cock-wallopers that make up Hollywood, her attitude towards men is treated as some sort of fault resulting from trauma, rather than a healthy, well-balanced aversion toward penetration. This reel of putrid excretia is directed by Callie Khouri, who won an Oscar for writing Thelma And Louise, the closest thing to a positive film about wymyn that Hollywood has churned out in the past 50 years. The only benefit about seeing this bowlwinder is the fact that you can rest assured that the air in the theatre should prove to be pretty much free of the wretched odor of phallus, as the only penis-bearers likely to shell out money to see this "chick flick" are frat boys trying to "score" or older men as beaten down as Garner's hen-pecked character. Once again, my sisters, you have been warned. And one further warning... the first person, man or womyn, who approaches me and yells "Ya Ya!" is getting pepper-sprayed back to the Stone Age. Govern yourselves accordingly. |
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