Dammit. One day away from release and Carrie Rickey, female film critic for the Philadelphia Inquirer, has gone and ruined the perfect double zeroes for Diane English's abominable The Women. What gives?

The Women, which stars a plasticized Meg Ryan, a good enough Annette Bening, and a completely wasted supporting cast (all of whom are female, following its predecessors' no-male appearances policy), is the worst movie I've seen all year. And I saw Disaster Movie.






What one might learn about modern women from watching this film is that we're all over-emotional and catty, we're either desperate for men in our lives or lesbians, we have enormous internal struggles over balancing families and careers, we constantly shriek when in the immediate vicinity of our female friends, we love shoes and clothes (even if we wear dowdy, ugly ones), we cry often and together, and (in the case of Diane English) we make terrible movie directors.

Over at the Philly Inquirer, Carrie Rickey seems to have been okay with all this. "Intermittently amusing." "Watered-down, sitcommy direction." "The piquant sides are tastier than the bland main dish." Are these the marks of enjoyment, Carrie?

Seriously, I feel bad for this film's demographic. It was allegedly slapped into release by Picturehouse only after the studio saw the huge buzz around this summer's Sex and the City (and The Women makes painfully obvious strides to mimic the characters and plotlines of that mediocre femme film). This is the rare movie that caters to the most underserved demographic in Hollywood: older women. I shudder at the thought of my own mother sitting through this wretched film. She deserves much, much better, as do all the mothers of the world.

Sigh.

Read Carrie Rickey's lone fresh review here, then leave her a comment here.