A guy's report on three chick flicks

• Published January 08, 2009

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While all you need is a couple of explosions and a hot babe to make a guy movie a hit (we’ll explore that more next week), the folks in Hollywood still seem mystified at what women moviegoers want.

Sure, the classic chick flick always is a staple, but for every hit, there are a dozen flops. And while a film such as “Twilight” hit across all sectors of the female audience, that is a rare bird indeed. “Titanic” might have been the last film to do that.

They keep throwing stuff at the wall, hoping something will stick.

Gross-out comedies are standard terrain for the likes of Adam Sandler, but you hardly ever see the distaff version of such a film.

Leave it to Sandler, however, to jump in by producing THE HOUSE BUNNY (PG-13, ** 1/2), a silly film saved by the relative novelty of its conceit.

Local actress and gifted comedienne Anna Faris stars as Shelley, an air-brained bottle blonde who lives at the Playboy Mansion and maintains the sole goal in life to be Miss November. But when Hef kicks her out of the mansion after her 27th birthday, Shelley finds herself adrift in a world without grotto parties and skimpy clothes.

Things take a turn for the better when Shelley stumbles upon sorority row at the local college. She decides to become a house mother — mainly for a place to live, but also to take advantage of the “skills” she learned at the mansion.

The poor girls of Zeta Alpha Zeta need Shelley’s help. A collection of misfits that you only find in the movies, they have 30 days to get 30 new pledges or they will lose their charter.

So what’s Shelley’s big idea to help? Make the girls hot, of course. A few montages later, the ugly ducklings are now swans, not a difficult thing to imagine with actresses Emma Stone, Kat Dennings, Katherine McPhee and Rumer Willis as members of ZAZ.

Faris, generally relegated to the “Scary Movie” films, gets a chance to show off her comedic chops. She saves the movie from going off of the rails with her inspired line readings and willingness to sell a pratfall.

Shelley’s a little less funny when she becomes “smarter” because the dim-bulb routine is a perfect fit for Faris.

With this film bringing in a surprising $50 million at the box office, you can expect to see more lowbrow comedies aimed at younger women ASAP. I’m not sure what it means that my wife left halfway through THE WOMEN (PG-13, ** 1/2) while I watched the rest, but that doesn’t bode well for its future as a women’s DVD staple.

Aimed squarely at the olderwoman crowd, this loose remake of the 1939 film flamed out at the box office, a sad coda to the decade-plus struggle to bring this movie to the screen.

I was ready to run for the hills, but I found myself surprisingly entertained with this tale of female empowerment, as well as strangely repulsed by the waxiness of Meg Ryan’s features.

Ryan stars as multitasking suburbanite housewife Mary, the last to know that her husband is having an affair with the perfume girl (Eva Mendes) at Saks. Her best friend Sylvia (Annette Bening), a successful magazine editor, and other galpals Edie (Debra Messing) and Alex (Jada Pinkett Smith) gather to help Mary get through the tough times, while each deals with her own struggles.

The plot seems less like a narrative device and more like giving each actress a chance to have one solid scene (save for Pinkett Smith, who is awful).

I’m not sure today’s woman would be quite as casual as Mary with her situation, but I could be wrong.

It’s rare to get five top-notch actresses together and provide them with semi-meaty roles, which is why it was relatively surprising no one bothered to go to see this.

It’s even crazier, that, like its prior incarnation, there are no men in this movie. Not even in the background.

The evolution of Meg Ryan from America’s Sweetheart to an afterthought remains shocking, and her appearance — she looks as if she were punched in the mouth before she started filming — does her no favors.

Compare her with Bening, who allows all her lines to show and still looks beautiful and natural.

It sounds superficial, but sometimes all women need are a couple of hot guys to increase their interest in a film.

How else to explain one of the biggest financial windfalls of the Coen Brothers’ distinguished career, BURN AFTER READING (R, )? Well, the star power of hunks Brad Pitt and George Clooney certainly didn’t hurt.

Of course, it also helps that the movie is a giddy slice of idiocy, a welcome reprieve from some of the Coen’s heavy-handed films, including last year’s “No Country for Old Men.”

The serpentine tale revolves around two dim-witted gym employees, Linda (Frances McDormand) and Chad (Pitt), who discover what they think is a disc filled with critical security information from a CIA agent.

It does belong to an agent, one grumpy Osborne Cox (John Malkovich), but the material on there isn’t really worth anything, although Linda and Chad have no idea that’s the case.

Also involved is a philandering treasury agent named Harry (Clooney) and Cox’s wife (Tilda Swinton).

While there are double- and triple-crosses among these disparate characters, the Coens are quick to show us that, frankly, it doesn’t add up to a whole lot.

And because we know that, we can sit back and enjoy the broad comic performances from the cast, especially Pitt, who seems to add a particular flourish to every scene with his goofy character.

McDormand, at times channeling a touch of her “Fargo” role, also excels as a woman who strains to stay positive even in the face of her rapidly deteriorating situation.

The Coens are masters at making the language work for them, and here, they have the perfect foil in Malkovich, who throws around the f-word with such relish that it takes on a life of its own.

Yes, this might not stack up with some of their classic comedies, but it certainly is a fine and funny addition to the canon.

Elliott Smith is a former Olympian reporter who lives in Seattle. He can be reached at ejsteeler@hotmail.com.