By Alan Scherstuhl
By Amy Nicholson
By Charles Taylor
By Stephanie Zacharek
By Brian Feinzimer
By CAROLINA DEL BUSTO
By AMY NICHOLSON
By Amy Nicholson
If Diane Keaton were a comer in 2007, she'd likely be stuck in romantic comedies cooked up in movie-studio test kitchens. No Godfather for her. No Annie Hall, no Shoot the Moon, no Reds. Filmmakers who now use Katherine Heigl as their go-to girl would be flummoxed by the willowy radiance that Keaton still so easily emits—the wry shiksa grin, those bright saucer eyes, that off-hand laugh that suggests she's the smartest person in any room even when playing a dumb blonde. Keaton's worst films have come only in the past 10 or 15 years—the forgettable, lamentable, treacly, preachy paychecks such as Hanging Up, Town & Country, Plan B, The Family Stone, and last year's Because I Said So, perhaps the worst of them all. What is it Norma Desmond said about actresses and their inability to age gracefully? Ah, yes: "I am big. It's the pictures that got small."
Small like Callie Khouri's new Mad Money, which is actually a remake of a 2001 BBC television production titled Hot Money, about women who clean the Bank of England and smuggle out in their underpants thousands of pounds destined for destruction. Dumped into the January-release burial grounds, Mad Money bears the stench of a discounted pick-up turned leftover; it was financed by the same company putting two Jessica Simpson movies on video-store shelves near you. Released with almost no promotional push, it will likely die a quick, quiet death. And that would be a minor shame because, truth is, it's not without its estimable charms—Keaton chief among them.
She plays the pampered Bridget Cardigan, a name so indefensible you'd be forgiven for reading no further. She and her husband, Don (Ted Danson), live in a sprawling Midwestern manse—though when we first meet the couple, Don's shredding dollar bills and flushing them down the commode, while Bridget's skedaddling out the back door with a bag full of filthy lucre and the cops on her tail. Their story's told in flashback: Don, once a six-figure exec, has been downsized and is drowning in debt, and Bridget's ill-equipped to do anything but spend money. Rather than detouring into cash-strapped Fun With Dick & Jane territory, the filmmakers take little time to get Bridget a new job: cleaning the toilets at the Federal Reserve Bank of Kansas City, where she meets the ditzy Jackie Truman (Katie Holmes, who is apparently let out of the house alone on occasion) and the bored-outta-her-brains Nina Brewster (Queen Latifah).
It's Nina's job to destroy worn-out currency, and Bridget figures, hell, might as well steal the bills before they're destroyed. So the women stuff the bounty in their panties and walk out the door, a few times too many—which is no spoiler, as the narrative's often interrupted by scenes of the stars explaining to the feds precisely how the heist worked.
And while it's all so breezy and zippy and Girl Power-peppy—Khouri, after all, wrote the Thelma and Louise screenplay—it's Keaton who makes Mad Money worth a few bucks. Bridget's a smart, stubborn woman who can't stop stealing; for her, it's a necessity and a kick, a way to pay the bills and score some thrills. And Keaton, who has always played drama like comedy and vice versa, nails it, imbuing the reined-in slapshtick with a real sense of purpose. (Plus, the last few minutes of the film are essential Keaton: Even when busted, she's cockier than any cop.)
Katherine Heigl, who suffered through minor parts in major dreck during the '90s, is sort of a Diane Keaton starter kit, if you consider that Knocked Up was sort of the dirty-talk version of Annie Hall—nebbishy Jew inexplicably lands hot, tall, no-shit shiksa. But her new 27 Dresses, directed by Anne Fletcher, is precisely the kind of movie Keaton avoided early on—the forgettable, formulaic comedy so predictable that seeing it and skipping it are the exact same thing. Fox sneak-previewed the movie during the holidays, between the Christmas buzz and New Year's hangover. Like everything else consumed and digested in that time period, 27 Dresses was little more than empty, leaden, stomach-aching calories all but already forgotten; and it starred . . . ? Oh, yes, wait. Katherine Heigl, right.
She's plain Jane, the bridesmaid who has never been the bride, in love with her sportswear-making boss (Ed Burns, seemingly in every bad movie this January), who only has eyes for Jane's sister Tess (Malin Akerman). Through circumstances slight and silly, Jane meets Kevin (James Marsden, still singing), a wedding columnist for a New York Times knock-off who's as creepy as he is charming: The guy is one Post-It note away from stalking, though movies like this play that kind of boorish behavior as lovey-dovey cute. Ultimately, Jane betrays Tess, Kevin betrays Jane, everything falls apart until everyone comes together—and if you think that's spoiling anything, you should see your first movie in the near future. Make it one from the 1970s—starring Diane Keaton.
Mad Money was directed by Callie Khouri; written by Glenn Gers, based on a screenplay by Neil McKay and Terry Winsor. 27 Dresses was directed by Anne Fletcher; written by Aline Brosh McKenna. Both open Fri. Countywide.
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