THE STEPFORD WIVES (2004)

The 1975 film version of Ira Levin's novel THE STEPFORD WIVES was a combination of icy political satire (or social satire, for those who genuinely don't see anything political in gender issues) and actual of-its-day horror thriller. The movie packed a sense of creepy outrage in its tale of a town where the men really, but really, are married to idealized Barbie dolls.

The original film's screenwriter, William Goldman, wrote rather extensively in his biography ADVENTURES IN THE SCREEN TRADE about what he thought was wrong with the movie namely that director Bryan Forbes had (for personal reasons) emphasized the homemaker aspect over the sexbomb factor in the Stepford women, which Goldman felt capsized the premise.

Keeping Goldman's complaint in mind may help explain certain aspects of the new cinematic version of THE STEPFORD WIVES, this one directed by Frank Oz, written by Paul Rudnick and played about half for laughs. The filmmakers are trying to send up everything in their path democratically the idea of subjugating women, the idea of women who steamroller the men (and women) in their lives, the whole notion of an "ideal" community and even Goldman's criticisms of the older film. (Whatever else is wrong here, we are not left wondering about the one longtime female Stepford resident who isn't quite a sexpot.) The results are very mixed.

TV executive Joanna Eberhart (Nicole Kidman) loses her job and for awhile her mind after being shot at by a disgruntled reality show participant. Joanna's husband, fellow (but lower-ranking) TV exec Walter Kresby (Matthew Broderick) resigns in solidarity and relocates the family to beautiful Stepford, Connecticut. The house is great, the neighborhood is safe it's just that all of the women act (and kind of look) like buxom Barbie dolls, there to cater to their husband's every whim and interested only in homemaking. The men have a "Men's Association," which is quickly embraced by Walter; Joanna is less enthralled with the women's group, a spa where the ladies work out in spiked heels. Joanna quickly befriends the town's only other unorthodox spouses acerbic Bobbi Markowitz (Bette Midler), married to a slob (Jon Lovitz), and perky Roger Bannister (Roger Bart), partnered with an uptight lawyer (David Marshall Grant). Bobbi and Roger share Joanna's curiosity about Stepford's odd dynamics. Then Joanna's friends go through sudden changes ...

Somebody is probably going to write a college thesis on the underlying meanings of the Roger subplot we're watching a story in which fear of female power has reached unearthly proportions yet homophobia is unknown. (It's even possible that this is Rudnick's in-joke comment on original director Forbes' depiction of the ideal spouse.) This aside, the new STEPFORD has a peculiar tone Rudnick gets off some good one-liners, and in Midler especially, he has a killer delivery system, but absolutely no one involved seems sure how seriously we're meant to take any of it. Are we supposed to think the whole thing is absurd, or are we meant to find Joanna's efforts to repair her marriage poignantly overdone, camp or a reasonable compromise? The movie seems unwilling to commit to a point of view, beyond being fond of the Bobbi and Roger characters but neither Bobbi nor Roger is remotely threatening to traditional male control. (Is the message supposed to be that it's okay for women or beta-type men to be lovable goofballs only as long as they don't want actual power?) Then again, the men of Stepford are mostly such total lumps that perhaps the movie is saying anybody who's threatened by a powerful woman is a schmo and then again-again, Joanna in the opening scenes is a threatening figure, not because she's female, but because she's oblivious to the notion of consequences and abuse of power.

The uncertainty about statement might be less noticeable if there was more laugh-out-loud humor, but the film treads very lightly much of the time. In sci-fi narrative terms, it also commits a colossal blunder midway through for a laugh we are shown something physical about the Stepford wives that the movie later contradicts totally; it looks as though the film not only has a new ending, but that it wasn't edited to really accommodate the changes.

Midler and Bart pretty much steal the movie whenever they're on, as they get the best lines and the most consistent tone. Kidman is at her best when Joanna is at her most normal, while Glenn Close and Christopher Walken as Stepford's power couple are so effortless at exuding scary geniality that they seem inevitable choices for their roles.

2004's THE STEPFORD WIVES isn't precisely bad it's watchable and sporadically funny, but mostly it feels like it's not entirely thought out yet.