Genres
Comedy
1994
Directed by
Robert Altman
Written by
Robert Altman & Barbara Shulgasser
Cast
Marcello Mastroianni .... Sergei/Sergio
Sophia Loren .... Isabella de la Fontaine
Jean-Pierre Cassel .... Olivier de la Fontaine
Kim Basinger .... Kitty Potter
Chiara Mastroianni .... Sophie Choiset
Stephen Rea .... Milo O'Brannigan
Anouk Aimée .... Simone Lowenthal
Rupert Everett .... Jack Lowenthal
Rossy de Palma .... Pilar
Tara Leon .... Kiki Simpson
Georgianna Robertson .... Dane Simpson
Lili Taylor .... Fiona Ulrich
Ute Lemper .... Albertine
Forest Whitaker .... Cy Bianco
Tom Novembre .... Reggie
Richard E. Grant .... Cort Romney
Anne Canovas .... Violetta Romney
Julia Roberts .... Anne Eisenhower
Tim Robbins .... Joe Flynn
Lauren Bacall .... Slim Chrysler
Lyle Lovett .... Clint Lammeraux
Tracey Ullman .... Nina Scant
Sally Kellerman .... Sissy Wanamaker
Linda Hunt .... Regina Krumm
Teri Garr .... Louise Hamilton
Danny Aiello .... Major Hamilton
Jean Rochefort .... Inspector Tantpis
Michel Blanc .... Inspector Forget
Talk about crap. Prêt-à-Porter must be one of the worst films of the 1990s. It seems to be an attempt to satirise the fashion industry, but the film just meanders for over two hours without hitting a single bulls eye, making any clever observations, or raising any laughs despite endless attempts. And it has absolutely no thrust to the story. I’d call the film a train wreck, but to wreck a train you have to get the engine going.
The closest thing to a plot involves the death of Olivier de la Fontaine, the head of the Paris Fashion Council. His death sort-of ties in the disparate characters, but not really, and certainly not to any meaningful effect. He wasn’t a nice guy, his wife (Sophia Loren) hated him, he had a lover who gets a lot of sympathy but didn’t like him either (he actually seemed like a nice guy to me). Sergei (Marcello Mastroianni) who was with him when he died used to be married to Sophia Loren, but that doesn’t really go anywhere. For a typical example of the clever interaction of characters, Sergei steals Tim Robbins jacket.
I can dig a multi-character survey if there’s anything good going on, but some of the subplots are so crap (the rest are just crap, as compared to so crap), and so unconnected to anything else, it’s maddening when the film cuts back to them. Maybe a subplot about two foreign journalists (Julia Roberts and Tim Robbins) spending all their time in their hotel room, phoning in their reports based on TV news coverage, ordering room service, and rooting could be funny. It isn’t funny here. And it also involves a lover’s spat that just flat-out sucks ass.
Kim Basinger turns in a poke-your-eardrums-with-a-knitting-needle performance as Southern fashion reporter Kitty Potter. Not only does she sport an unfunny accent, but she never once cracks a decent joke. And she’s on screen a lot. Every time the film cuts back to Basinger and she says "This is Kitty Potter live on the scene with…" you just know nothing good is going to happen (this seems like it happened 30 or 40 times, but it was probably less). I think a clueless fashion reporter could be funny. It isn’t funny here.
Danny Aeillo and Teri Garr star in a subplot about a bizarre cross-dressing rendezvous. Danny plays a reporter from some shit newspaper that everyone ignores. Teri Garr goes shopping. Later they rendezvous and Danny dresses up as a woman. It seems to have no link to anything else in the movie. I’m going to go ahead and say that this could never be funny. In fact, I don’t even know what the hell it was about. And the final scene of this subplot, where Danny Aeillo chases a photographer out of a restaurant, seemed a suitably pointless way to wrap this story line up.
And then there’s the huge chunk of the film dedicated to three magazine editors trying to sign up a cocky Irish photographer (Stephen Rea). The scoundrel gets them into embarrassing situations: begging on hands and knees, flashing tits, and in a thong (Tracey Ullman, which I really didn’t need to see), and then takes photos of them for his amusement (I think these were supposed to be some of the movie’s big laughs). Are we supposed to find him a charming rebel against the shameless commercialism of fashion? A brave soul who wants to expose the rotten heart of glamour? Maybe. But he seemed more like a despicable, smug fuck wit to me.
I have to admit I don’t know what was going on in most of the other storylines. This was through a combination of nothing actually going on in them and the shitness of the film putting me in a stupor. There were a bunch of fashion houses, and various designers and lackeys were having affairs with each other. None of it was funny. People in the fashion industry like to fuck around. Good. Thanks for that Altman.
At the end Altman tries to make some big statement about fashion. The final show involves models coming out on the runway naked (if you’re considering renting it for this, just rent a fucking porno). It gets a standing ovation, and Kitty Potter realises she’s seen the end of fashion and quits. But the film has not earned the right to make a point about anything. If you’re going to make one of the shittest films of the decade, don’t try and slag off another art form while you’re at it.
Prêt-à-Porter is painfully boring, meandering, and uninsightful. It plays out like twenty really shit short films edited together. If you’re interested in fashion you won’t be after this film. There are countless cameos by models and designers. But who cares? Buy an issue of Vogue. It’s too crap to watch for a joke. Just forget it exists, that’s what I’m going to try and do.
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