The Affair Of The Necklace: Review By B. Alan Orange

Code Orange Alert #38526: Affair of the Necklace

Do I even need to say it?

A catcher, this film is perfectly pitched at the homo-erotic nutcher mitt: Yes, it's the cinematic equivalent of taking it in the ass. Sitting through Affair's two-hour infinity came as punishment for running up Movieweb's long distance phone bill. They'd conned me into this iron maiden of shame by promising a cartoon necklace voiced by Hillary Swank. A cel-flipped diamond rope that falls in love with a pair of emerald earrings, she is forced to choose between two feuding brothers: Secrets are reveled and a bloody battle ensues. Near the tail end, we're treated to a jewel encrusted three-way atop the neck of Marie Antoinette. Anime style.

One could only hope. Nope. Charlie Shyer's latest is a quasi-French (I don't recall a single soul uttering so much as Vous Le Vous, Aquiche Avequi) Revolutionary pillbox ensconced in a subversive lace. Affair excels at being an epic of mini-mall proportions; an eyesore companion to receiving the best of Friends DVD as a Christmas gift (for every one of those I get, I'm giving out blows to the head with a baseball bat).

Affair of the Necklace is Merchant/Ivory for Dummies. It's Dangerous Liaisons seen through the eyes of the guy who brought us Julia Roberts' porcelain-textured I Love Trouble and Dennis Quaid's Meg Ryan era-Parent Trap remake. Shyer continues to run an uneven eye through suburban family fare aimed at "Mother's Choice" on video rental night. He caters to that midlife crisis in feminine through-point; a valid induction into the world of Jeanne de la Motte-Valois.

Swank plot-points a woman scandalous enough to topple 800 years of absolute Monarchy. A bottom feeder in the business pages of Variety, Shyer's own lack of endearing scandal burns through this material. Affair seems less sordid than a playground tussle between a couple of ten-year-olds. The pacing is too pillowed in fluff to extract any real damage. Though painfully slow, it chugs by without a blink in the time-space continuum: A paradoxical symphony that plays on the film's own apparent running theme. It's neither rich in texture, nor does it have a strong foothold in the history it's attempting to sell. Dressed to the nines in sixes and sevens, this dull stretch of taint never escapes the contemporary enthusiasm set forth by its self-indulgent SAG enablers, all of which look to be playing after-school dress-up.

It was a sad day when these guys got dropped from junior high drama class. Shyer stood before this movie at the screening to propose an undying love for the "Period Piece" genre, and his own devotion to the project at hand. His intentions are heartfelt, yet paved with an inability to perform. I enjoy Frank Sinatra with the utmost respect: If I went into a studio to croon an album of Las Vegas favorites, I have a feeling it would end up a lot like this...A big mess.

Shyer's cul-de-sac style in direction isn't the only thing to bring this horse tranquilizer to its knees. The piece loses a lot of validity in its casting. Affair's leads are neither from France, nor would they be able to read the English subtitles that should have surfaced below them. Hillary Swank is a fine actress, that's a given. Here, she reminds me of John Candy's character in Who's Harry Crumb? I suspect she got nailed in the head with a lead-infused Nerf football only to awake in the reign of King Louis XVI. In-between naps, I kept expecting her to break into faux-heshergirl speak at any given moment. Instead of trying to prove her pedigree through a scrolled family tree, that girl should have been searching for someone with the ability to build a time machine. Christopher Walken's Cagliostro seems a good candidate: A wig-wearing Svengali prone to shuffling tarot cards on the fly, he's the only one I'd depend on. He can see into the future, you know?

What the f*ck is Christopher Walken doing in this movie? I sure hope he's the intended comic relief, because he illicits a laugh simply by walking on screen. Played straight in a realistically flat atmosphere, the man's trademark timbre seems out of place in the 18th Century. It's like he's doing a spot-on Christopher Walken imitation in an odd SNL skit. He's reached a level in being a parody of himself without much effort. The sad thing, he's the only entertaining element able to spin from the midst of this synth-pop recording. If it hadn't been for his iconic God-like stature, I'd have never reached those end credits. Doesn't mean he belongs here, for God's sake; not by any means. I'm just as out of place at a gay-Asian tailgate party, yet still able to entertain on the outskirts of obscurity. See how that works?

Do I have anything nice to say?

Not really.

Sure the clothing design is spectacular. Especially with its 25 million dollar budget. But so what? There's nothing here I haven't seen. I've sat through so many "corset" dramas; they're all starting to look the same. People in the know like to heap inappropriate praise on certain sewing techniques as if they've never been tried before. "Bestow Oscars on Milena Canonero's head," they said. Why? Looking at a color glossy from the movie's press kit, I couldn't tell the difference between her clothes and the ones found on-rack at Disneyland's Pirates of the Caribbean photo-op. The wardrobe's not bad; it's quite good. At the same time: It's creamed in redundancy. I could mix and match these outfits with any found in Age of Innocence or Amadeus. As an attentive audience, we're handed nothing new. Why do I have to be the one to point it out?

This lavishly bland quest lurks at certain death for any ass-thrusting hardcore dominant sex partner. How dare they expect me to sit through its off-road excess without offering a sexy sweater-girl to cry my misery into? Necklace is a lost affair without that handholding option tied to its side. Just looking at pictures in the pressbook subdued me into a coma. If I were a burglar, I could use this DVD in a portable player to paralyze any gate-guarding puppy dog. A labor-intensive choir, it's only useful in reaching bed sheets against an ominous TV glow of dripping sweat. At first sight: it's lonely woman's meal ticket. Though, I'm not sure it will even appeal to them. Fans of the Wig Party might find themselves hard pressed to extract sand grains of pleasure from this decades-old filler. Our 01-intended Oscar picks are certainly coming up bare bones.

F*ck this movie.

If you find yourself conned into a date with this sucker tag-locked at evening's end, not to worry: The Orange has got you covered. First, take your loved one into Popeye's Chicken Drive-thru for dinner, then proceed to spray-vomit their Crawfish value meal all over the inside of your car and onto your date's lap. That shouldn't be too hard, and it'll get you home quick. I guarantee. But wait; what if that doesn't work? Ah-ha, B. Alan Orange isn't one to suffer bad cinema for punishment alone. I took notes. These are time sensitive so you can set your watch to vibrate and take a good nap (don't forget to prop your cheek on your hand, so that fingers hide closed eyes).

Once into the film's opening, you can sleep for a good 25 minutes. You'll want to wake up for Walken; he's not to be missed. At 34 minutes in; we get a couple nice full-frontal breast exams. After these fleeting moments are pulled away from the screen, you can doze for another 16 minutes. At ten till the hour, Shyer treats us to a rather nice sex scene directly followed by a rousing sword fight. Wait ten minutes, and another chase comes into play. This one's through a marsh, which is always cool. At an hour and five, we get a sideways nipple shot. Not much, but in a movie of this magnitude, we'll take anything we can get. Here, you can curl up for about twenty more minutes. An hour and twenty-six minutes in brings the departure of Christopher Walken. It's a tad boring; you'll get by watching it though one half-opened eye. The last thing you'll want to wake up for is at 1 hr. 50 min in:

Yes, Swank is whipped then branded with a hot iron. Now that's entertainment. You follow these guidelines; you'll have a fairly rewarding experience...All things considered.

If you go to this by yourself, don't say I didn't warn you. Fool.