Oz's soulless 'Stepford' a robotic remake

With feminism just beginning to rear its beautiful head and howl in the early '70s, Ira Levin, author of another creepy sleeper you may have heard of, "Rosemary's Baby," unleashed "The Stepford Wives" on an unsuspecting public. An acerbic satire both on and of feminism brewed in the conventions of a sci-fi thriller, "Stepford" immediately became a staple of American pop culture. With a 1975 film adaptation of the slim novel that quickly rose to cult-classic status, the story's secret and the moral were a permanent part of the pop-consciousness. While director Frank Oz and screenwriter Paul Rudnick have made a valiant attempt to refresh the original material, their polarized approach of satirical camp chokes on its own saccharin, like marshmallow razor-blades, leaving us a remake nearly as soulless as its own robots.\nYou can only go so far over-the-top before you crash into the ground. However, Oz and Rudnick seemed fatalistically determined to drive "Stepford" into the core of Mother Earth, some moments bordering on little less than slapstick shenanigans. Nonetheless, considering Oz and Rudnick's task, it's not so much the manner in which they chose to reinterpret the material, as it is the execution. What originally set Levin's and the original film's twisted premise up as a thriller with darkly comedic moments, is Stepford's little secret. Oz and Rudnick face up to the fact that Stepford no longer has anything to hide, therefore, not attempting to create some hokey aura of suspense, instead focusing on and embellishing the comedic aspects. The embellishment, though, goes far and beyond the call of duty. This exaggerated approach is not completely unsuccessful. Director of photography Rob Hahn's beautiful cinematography looks like Thomas Kincade painting Norman Rockwell, creating a lush sterility that carries its own creepy weight.\nBoasting an impressive ensemble cast, its performances may be the most mechanical aspect of the entire film. It is entirely plausible that Christopher Walken filmed the entirety of his scenes in one day, one take a piece. As much as I love Walken, like the rest of the characters in the film, he is little more than a sketched out caricature. I could write an entirely separate review on the handling of the final act, but I'll leave it at this: ham-handed debacle of indecisiveness. Unfortunately, our new "Stepford" has become every bit as mechanical as what it is trying to warn against.