Cast: Sandra Bullock, Ellen Burstyn, Fionnula Flanagan, James Garner, Ashley Judd, Shirley Knight, Angus MacFadyen, Maggie Smith
Director: Callie Khouri
Producers: Bonnie Bruckheimer, Hunt Lowry
Screenplay: Callie Khouri, based on the novels Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, Little Altars Everywhere by Rebecca Wells
Cinematography: John Bailey
Music: T-Bone Burnett
U.S. Distributor: Warner Brothers
Hearty congratulations should go to Callie Khouri, who, with her Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, has managed to create the estrogen-fueled analog to the testosterone-driven idiot action films that typify the summer market. Ya-Ya Sisterhood is just as dumb, just as borderline-incoherent, and just as insulting as any mind-numbing male-oriented motion picture. The primary difference is that, instead of suffering through repetitive explosions and snooze-worthy chase sequences, we are subjected to scene after scene of agonizing manipulation intent upon draining tear ducts of all their fluid.
As "chick flicks" go, this one is pretty miserable, resorting to string-pulling rather than legitimate character development and intelligent plotting. It's not just a matter of a male critic (that would be me) not "getting it" - there are plenty of good movies of this ilk (Fried Green Tomatoes comes to mind). This isn't one of them. Those with two "X" chromosomes are naturally vulnerable to this kind of full-frontal attack on their emotions, so, on a visceral level, Ya-Ya Sisterhood does what it sets out to do - boost the sales of Kleenexes. Women who are fans of Rebecca Wells' novels or who want to cry for no good reason will hurry to the nearest multiplex. I can only think of one reason why a heterosexual man would venture into a theater showing this film: he has been promised some action by the female he is escorting. (Get an iron-clad commitment, guys - this movie is too painful for a "maybe".)
Ya-Ya Sisterhood flits around in time with such seeming randomness that, on occasions, it's less coherent than Memento. This, I suppose, is what happens when two novels are compressed into a two-hour movie. Actually, it's almost better when the story doesn't make sense, because, when things start coming into focus, we recognize how obviously contrived the entire setup is and how emotionally hollow the characters and circumstances are. Those of us trapped in the audience are more likely to weep because we lost $10 and 116 minutes of our lives than because of anything happening on screen. This movie makes Terms of Endearment look masterful - at least in that tear-jerker, the characters attained a semblance of reality, and there was a sort of genuine catharsis. Here, it's all superficial. We cry because we have been programmed to shed tears at this sort of stuff, not because it truly impacts us.
The film spans about five decades, beginning on a Louisiana night during the first half of the last century, when four girls make a solemn pact that unites them as the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Some twenty years later, the girls are adults. One of them, Vivi (Ashley Judd), has led an especially tragic life. Her one true love was killed in combat, shattering her hopes for the future. In the wake of his death, she married a "lesser" man and bore him four children. She began to drink, and, after becoming addicted to pills, she became abusive and suffered a breakdown. The scars of those days still impact her eldest daughter, Sidda (Sandra Bullock), twenty-five years later, when the bulk of the story takes place.
The part of the movie that frames the flashbacks involves a quarrel between Sidda and her mother (now played by Ellen Burstyn). Vivi is angry when some unflattering comments allegedly made by Sidda appear in a national magazine. A war of words heats up and Sidda decides to un-invite her mother from her upcoming wedding. In step the other three Ya-Ya's, Teensy (Fionnula Flanagan), Necie (Shirley Knight), and Caro (Maggie Smith) (not to be confused with Larry, Curly, and Mo, despite the obvious similarities in intelligence and competence), to heal the wound. They do this by kidnapping Sidda and inundating her with stories about her mother's youth.
For the most part, acting isn't the problem, although Sandra Bullock doesn't hit all of the right notes. She never seems to find her character, which isn't surprising, considering how thinly it is written. Ashley Judd does a stellar job - in large part because of her, some of the flashback sequences have a heart and life that most of the film lacks (although I could have done without the scene where she's covered with vomit and diarrhea). Sadly, those are solid vignettes floating around in a pond of half-baked, saccharine-coated muck. Ellen Bustyn, playing the older Vivi, is nearly as good as Judd, and she is capably supported by Fionnula Flanagan, Maggie Smith (who adds a dash of sparkle and wit), Shirley Knight, and James Garner (as Shep, Vivi's underappreciated husband).
Curiously, for a chick flick, the men come across far better than the women. While the Ya-Yas are acting like chickens with their heads cut off, Shep and Sidda's intended, Connor (Angus MacFadyen), calmly assess the situation and act like rational human beings. That is to say, they stay in the background. I'm reasonably sure the intent is not to make the Ya-Yas seem like a group of aging harpies, but that's the effect. Writer/director Khouri was much praised for her scripting of the overrated Ridley Scott adventure film, Thelma and Louise. Based on the evidence for consideration in Ya-Ya Sisterhood, she should stick to writing. For a strangely-titled, female-oriented drama about mothers and daughters bonding, try The Joy Luck Club and leave Ya-Ya as a phrase uttered by one-year olds who have yet to learn how to talk.
© 2002 James Berardinelli