Review: Pret-a-Porter (Ready to Wear)

A (pseudo) fly-on-the-wall look at the goings on at an annual international fashion show in Paris. Someone gets murdered, people act bitchy, and lots of dog shit gets stepped in. The most prominent characters are ditzy Southern-accented reporter Kim Basinger, Sophia Loren as the wife of the murdered fashion bigwig (Jean-Pierre Cassel), Marcello Mastroianni as Loren’s pickpocket first hubby skulking about, Anouk Aimee is a designer with Rupert Everett improbable as her son. Other major characters include Julia Roberts and Tim Robbins as bickering American reporters who are forced to share a hotel room together, and Stephen Rea as an in-demand Irish fashion photographer who delights in humiliating a trio of friendly rival fashion mag editors (played by Sally Kellerman, Linda Hunt, and Tracey Ullman). Lauren Bacall plays a respected fashionista, Forest Whitaker is a gay designer, Lili Taylor is a reporter for the NY Times, Richard E. Grant plays Whitaker’s bitchy snob rival designer, and Danny Aiello and Teri Garr play a long-time couple, with Aiello also a buyer. And a cross-dresser. Yep. Various models and celebrities appear as themselves throughout in cameos. Lyle Lovett’s here too, pretending he’s actually an actor in this film (OK, so he plays a boot maker from Texas).

 

Director Robert Altman (“Nashville”, “*M*A*S*H*”, “Popeye”, “Short Cuts”) and co-writer Barbara Shulgasser (a former reporter for the Chicago Sun-Times) literally forget about the plot in this useless, pointless, plotless 1994 flop that even most Altman fans rejected. Altman could’ve made 5 better films with several of these actors, instead he has made a “Nashville” (or “Short Cuts”) wannabe as he tries to cram all of the stars in. It’s pretentious, unnecessary, and superficial, a lot like the fashion industry I guess.

 

It’s a film about nothing, Altman might as well have done a fly-on-the-wall documentary, instead of making a contrived fictional film in documentary style (and featuring actual Fashion Week footage, hence the celeb/model cameos throughout). He’s not interested in any of the characters or their stories, and neither was I. Nothing gets resolved, and the nude runway finale, whilst aesthetically pleasing is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a film about fashion, so what’s the fucking point of naked chicks walking down a runway, genius? Julia Roberts and Tim Robbins could’ve potentially been a decent romantic comedy coupling (on paper at least), but they have to compete with all the other characters here, and so they don’t even have a chance. Then again, Roberts is forced and annoying, and was it meant to be funny that she spends most of the film wearing a sloppy, stained t-shirt with ‘World’s Greatest Mom’ written on it? Hell, if she was even meant to be a mother, either we weren’t told or I was in a coma by that point. Meanwhile, at first Kim Basinger is somewhat amusing as a bimbo reporter, but the caricature gets old very, very quickly. Richard E. Grant is usually good value, but he’s playing an irritating cliché here, and Forest Whitaker just doesn’t seem comfortable cast as a gay fashion designer (And I doubt the original choice, Robert De Niro would’ve been any less awkward). Also, did anyone else watching this in the last ten years or so, find it retroactively creepy that the film is set in the fashion industry and involves murder? Obviously that isn’t the film’s fault, but it does play creepily today, when you think of what happened to Gianni Versace. The recurring ‘gag’ of everyone stepping in dog shit throughout the film is just plain juvenile, as is all the gags about how funny them thar Frenchies talk, har-har. Real mature, Mr. Altman.

 

I get the feeling Altman was aiming for a blend of French farce with his own brand of multi-character, overlapping dialogue filmmaking, but he has forgotten how to do it right. It might want to be “Nashville” for the fashion industry, but it’s not even close. There’s practically nothing to it. Oh yes, someone is murdered, but that’s about all. Marcello Mastroianni and Sophia Loren don’t even do anything until around 90 minutes have passed! The wastage of Loren (who spends most of her scenes walking around being photographed by paparazzi), Lauren Bacall, and Lili Taylor is especially disgraceful. Truth be told I’ve never liked the overlapping dialogue gimmick in Altman’s films. There’s a reason why most filmmakers don’t do it: It’s noisy and counter-productive to making sense of what is being said. But then, I didn’t give a flying monkey butt fuck about any of this. Sorry, but it’s the truth. Also truthful? Lyle Lovett belongs nowhere near this film and we all know why he’s here. Talk about sticking out like sore thumb.

 

A terrible, terrible film that is only saved from a bottom-of-the-barrel rating through the hilarious work by Stephen Rea and a nice job by veteran character actress Linda Hunt. Julia Roberts and Richard E. Grant, bring up the rear, whilst everyone else fights for screen time. When Danny Aiello in drag (!) fails to get a laugh (because Altman botches the scene completely), you’re really in trouble. For undemanding fashionistas only, though Sally Kellerman fans might like to know that she shows more skin in this than in “*M*A*S*H”.

 

Rating: D-