Charlie's Angels

When making a movie like “Charlie’s Angels,” there are basically two ways to go. You can update the premise, making the movie sharper, edgier, and more exciting, or you can treat the whole thing as a joke, admit that what you are doing isn’t worth the audience’s time, and hope people feel they are in on the gag. The former is more likely to result in a worthwhile movie, but it’s also riskier. So naturally the minds behind “Charlie’s Angels” chose the latter. I admit I could think of worse ways to spend a couple of hours than watching Cameron Diaz, Lucy Liu, and Drew Barrymore run around in a variety of tight outfits.

Still, if you’re looking for more than that, you’re likely to be disappointed. This big screen version of the classically bad 70’s TV show is mostly good for proving that the original show was one of the most insipid, sexist, and creatively bankrupt concoctions of all time. I know they are laughing all the way to the bank, but that doesn’t mean you will have a better time at the theater. It is only fair to state that the movie isn’t as bad as it could have been. According to a recent article I read, the script was worked on by about sixteen writers during its gestation, which is usually a recipe for disaster. Given that, I’m surprised the movie makes any sense at all. Granted, the humor is decidedly infantile, the dialogue primitive, and the acting downright amateurish. In addition, the plotting and story are virtually nonexistent. The movie falls victim to the same ailment that afflicts most of the recent James Bond pictures: it forgoes any attempt at plotting, characterization, or atmosphere for the sole purpose of dishing out big, loud action sequences. “Charlie’s Angels” is nothing if not strenuous. The movie and the stars work so hard to be hip, funny and cool that you can practically see sweat dripping down the screen.

Most people know the basic premise: three gorgeous crime fighting babes work for a never seen millionaire. (I will leave the psychological analysis of the themes of incest, father fetishism, sexual domination, and infantilism to professionals.) Their only contact with Charlie is by telephone. Charlie’s factotum is the eunuch-like Bosley, played here with oily fervor by Bill Murray, whose agent should have advised him against the role. Aside from the technical elements, the movie is no better than any of the original TV shows. The movie tries to make a lot of self-deprecating jokes, which means that the filmmakers are trying to cover up a moribund and dated concept by pretending that they are just kidding. They go for a campy, self-referential humor, which has the principal effect of undermining the picture. (In the opening minutes of the picture, the movie being shown on a plane is “TJ Hooker--The Movie” prompting a passenger to remark, “Oh no, another movie from an old TV show.” Ha ha.) The movie is good natured, I suppose, and harmless enough, but to borrow a phrase, it doesn’t even have the strength of its lack of convictions The three stars work hard. They look good, and try to keep up a cheerful front, despite the deadwood script.

“Charlie’s Angels” is not going to earn any of them Oscar nominations; I just hope it doesn’t ruin any chance they have of ever being taken seriously as actresses. The women, of course, are asked to don a variety of revealing outfits (I particularly like Liu as the dominatrix boss, a sequence which at least has some snap to it) and mutter unexceptional and at times insulting dialogue. But their detective work makes “Mannix” look like Sherlock Holmes, and the case the Angels work on wouldn’t challenge the dimmest Hardy Boy. The movie does offer up a few bravura action sequences and fight scenes, which are fairly managed by the stars and their stunt doubles. The director, McG (whose actual name apparently is Joseph McGinty Mitchell), handles these pretty well, using a variety of John Woo-like camera techniques and “Matrix” style special effects. Some of these scenes are in fact quite fun to watch, and it is nice to see the women mix it up just like male action stars. (It is too bad that they must immediately drift back into kittenish bimbo mode.) The movie also throws in a few mildly amusing comic sequences, and a variety of unconvincing techno gimmicks.

“Charlie’s Angels” whips by in a mercifully brisk 98 minutes, but I kept wishing that the filmmakers had chosen option number one described above, making the Angels tough and smart, running their own agency (the hell with Charlie), and solving an actual mystery. Instead, they have made a parody of a show that by its very nature defies parody. I suppose if that’s how they want to spend 100 million bucks, that’s their business. But that doesn’t mean you have to go and see it. (11/4/200)