Woman on Top

“Woman on Top,” a shamelessly threadbare vehicle for its camera-friendly star Penelope Cruz, barely even works as a promo. Cruz is certainly attractive enough, but the demure brand of sensuality she markets here cannot really carry a movie. She may be able to act (her work in “The Hi-Lo Country” was reportedly rather good), but this is not the film in which to find out. Once you get past that smarmy double entendre of a title, “Woman on Top” strives for the same sort of magical realism that propelled the engaging 1992 Mexican release “Like Water For Chocolate.” And, like the earlier film, it tries to draw on the connection between food and sex. That, however, is where the comparisons end, because you walk out of “Woman on Top” neither hungry nor horny. It seems as though director Torres and writer Blasi knew they had precious little to work with, so they try to imbue everything with a sense of childlike wonderment and innocence. The tactics backfire. Every scene comes across like a screaming confession that they didn’t really work very hard to make this movie interesting. They just thought that if they put a pretty girl onscreen then the rest of the picture would take care of itself. Um, no.

In this self-proclaimed movie about “love, cooking, and motion sickness” (and that’s a direct quote from the not-so-charming-as-it-thinks-it-is voiceover narration) Cruz plays Isabella, a shy girl who is granted the power of magical cooking by, it seems, the goddess of the sea. However, in one of those cruel jokes that the goddess of the sea so often plays on mere mortals, Isabella is also made quite prone to motion sickness (hence her need to be “on top” during more intimate moments, which gives you a good idea of the kind of humor we are dealing with here). After her insensitive husband Toninho (Benicio, sporting the type of three-day stubble so favored by lovable rogues--and, sheesh, how old is that gimmick?) cheats on her, a devastated Isabella makes her way to San Francisco, where she joins her old pal, a transvestite named Monica. Monica is played by the fine young actor Harold Perrineau, Jr. (who was in “The Edge” and the HBO series “Oz,” among other things). He seems to do a good job playing an over-the-top drag queen, but who’s to say? I can’t escape the feeling that he is destined for bigger and better things.

Magically (of course), Isabella manages to land her own cooking show (“Passion Food”) on the local TV station, mostly by dazzling young producer Cliff (Feuerstein) with her intimate knowledge of chile peppers. Her combination of delectable spices and Brazilian sensuality soon strikes the entire town lovehappy. Of course, in a movie that has flowers perking up just because Isabella walks by, I suppose getting her own TV show isn’t much of a stretch. Meanwhile, Toninho, who apparently travels at all times with a Brazilian musical combo, arrives in San Francisco to win back Isabella’s love. There, he must compete for her affections with the guileless and slightly nerdy Cliff. How the filmmakers resolve this rather shopworn triangle says more about what they really think of women than any contrived cooking show success. Aside from sheer simplemindedness, there is nothing particularly wrong with “Woman on Top,” but then there is nothing particularly right with it either. The movie is relatively painless, but that hardly constitutes a strong recommendation to run out and spend eight bucks to see it. Torres and Blasi must have been so smitten with Cruz that they failed to recognize just how little of interest the movie has to offer.

Magical realism, handled properly, makes you believe--or at least want to--in what is happening in the movie, and that does not happen here. Everything in “Woman on Top” has a touristy, phony feel--Brazilian allure as a marketing tool, like a travel brochure, or an ad for an airline. The effect is tiresome, more akin to the feeling we get when a not very talented youngster sings a song. You want to like it, and you want to be nice, but in the end you’re just bored, if not outright annoyed. To be fair, “Woman on Top” does offer some nice San Francisco scenery, and it does feature a delicious bossa nova soundtrack, but unless you simply cannot get enough of hot babe of the moment Cruz (and no, for the record, there is no nudity, gratuitous or otherwise), stay home, put on an Astrud Gilberto CD, and really get a taste of Brazil.