George Cukor's The Women remains one of the glittering gems of 1939, Hollywood's most golden of golden years. The film crackled and sparked and it's absence of males was a subtle touch, hardly noticed because of all the fine entertainment.<br /><br />Flash forward. We see Fifth Avenue in New York City, in front of Saks. Large crowds bustle along the Avenue...but something's off. The shot reveals only well dressed (attractive and young) women. Creepier than I Am Legend, the visual concept continues, inside the store and later at a large fashion show. What NYC fashion show doesn't have at least 5 gay men? The "no men" rule is rammed down our throats creating an alien world, off balance and distracting.<br /><br />Enter Meg Ryan, first seen digging in her garden wearing a ridiculous get-up complete with her retro curls and flailing arms. I immediately sympathized with her husband and could understand why he looked elsewhere. Later in the film she morphs into an older Jennifer Aniston look and keeps her arms at her sides. This seems intentional as if to say "Look! I can still be relevant!" Ryan's character is loaded down with a coven of miss-matched friends (insert Sex and the City comparison here) who, if it were real life, would despise each other. Annette Bening plays the power bitch, who during the course of the film realizes her life's dream doesn't really make her happy. Jada Pinkett Smith is the power lesbian, all atitudinous with no use for any of the men who aren't there. Debra Messing is some sort of baby factory that eats a lot. Eva Mendes is an odd choice for the bad girl to say the least. She looks fake, acts fake and any humor she tries to demonstrate falls flat. Someone's comment on here that she looked trans-gender was spot on. Other various stars show up, to rearrange the furniture on this Titanic.<br /><br />The only thing that would have saved this would have been the brilliant casting of Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie. They could have named their price, tucked their tongues firmly into their cheeks and pulled off something very clever and profitable. But no, Hollywood thinks of itself way too highly for that kind of exploitation. Instead we're given this thing that lumbers along awkwardly with no sparkle. Entire sections of dialog from the original are lifted and plopped down into a scene with awful results. At one point Ryan exclaims something along the lines of, "This isn't a 1930's movie!" No Meg, it's not.