Cast: Uma Thurman, John Hurt, Rain Phoenix, Lorraine Bracco, Noriyuki "Pat" Morita, Keanu Reeves, Angie Dickenson
Director: Gus Van Sant
Producer: Laurie Parker
Screenplay: Gus Van Sant based on the novel by Tom Robbins
Cinematography: John Campbell, Eric Alan Edwards
Music: k.d. lang and Ben Mink
U.S. Distributor: Fine Line Features
Anyone following the behind-the-scenes history of Even Cowgirls Get the Blues knew that the film was in trouble long before its release. Following a negative reaction at last year's Toronto Film Festival, director Gus Van Sant (Drug Store Cowboy, My Own Private Idaho) went back to the editing room to recut the picture, hoping to supply more life and coherency than was evident his first take. It didn't work. Even Cowgirls is as close to an unwatchable film as there is available at this time in the theaters.
Perhaps I might be more sympathetic had I read Tom Robbins' 1976 book -- the "first hippie novel", as Van Sant calls it -- but I haven't, so I'll leave the comparisons to someone else. Whether or not this is the 90s version of Bonfire of the Vanities remains to be seen, although cinematically, it's certainly on the same level.
Uma Thurman plays Sissy Hankshaw, a loopy drifter who hitchhikes her way across the country from adventure to adventure. A letter from her old friend the Countess (played by a cross-dressing John Hurt) summons her to New York, where she meets with an asthmatic artist (Keanu Reeves) and is offered a job doing an ad campaign for the Countess' midwestern ranch - which is really a fat farm/beauty spa. Once she arrives in Oregon, however, the cowgirl workers, led by Bonanza Jellybean (Rain Phoenix) stage a coup and take over the property, running the Countess and her rich clients out. This provokes an armed federal response, and one of the most laughably idiotic denouements in recent film history.
Where to begin...
Even if the plot made sense (which it really doesn't) and wasn't unbelievably contrived (which it is), Even Cowgirls is difficult to follow because it's so badly disjointed. Whether this is a result of poor editing, confused writing, or (most likely) a combination of the two, the result is obvious -- a chaotic jumble of images and sounds that never finds its focus.
The performances are all awful, with Uma Thurman's restrained Sissy being the best of a bad lot. Lorraine Bracco and John Hurt go so far over the top that you wonder if they'll ever reach bottom. Rain Phoenix (the sister of the late River Phoenix, to whom this film is dedicated) isn't much better, probably because she doesn't know how to act.
The dialogue, especially the Tom Robbins-supplied voiceovers, is grating. There's too much pretension and posturing here, and a typical conversation consists of characters trying to one-up each other in the number of meaningless profundities they can spew. This is probably supposed to make the viewer ponder, but, amidst all the other garbage that comprises Even Cowgirls, it just made me reel. The themes presented by the movie -- feminism and the rights of the individual -- have a heavy 70s flavor that Van Sant has done nothing to update. In a rare case of getting something right, at least Even Cowgirls gives a natural, non-exploitative view of lesbian love.
Then there are Sissy's thumbs. Supposedly incredibly long and supple, these represent a botch-up by the prosthetics and make-up department. Every time Sissy sticks out these monstrosities to hitch a ride, the viewer's eyes are glued to them -- not because of some inner desire to gape at the deformity, but because they look so fake.
Further rumination on Even Cowgirls is probably as pointless as the film itself. The only possible reason to see it is to experience firsthand how badly a moderately-budgeted art film can go wrong. In some sense, it's hard to believe that this much talent can produce something so worthless. That's enough to give anyone the blues.
© 1994 James Berardinelli