(Oh, holy hell, now I‘ve done it... The Anti-Madonna Movie contingent are gonna piss themselves with rage...)
CAST: Madonna, Griffin Dunne, Haviland Morris, John McMartin, Bibi Besch, Robert Swan, Drew Pillsbury, John Mills, Coati Mundi, Dennis Burkley.
DIRECTOR: James Foley
WARNING: Some SPOILERS and one seriously underrated movie straight ahead - seriously!
In our review for CATWOMAN (review # 237), we discussed the phenomenon that is the “Bum Rap Flick.” True to its moniker, the Bum Rap Flick is a movie that has an undeserved reputation for being the biggest steaming pile of shit this side of that, uh, huge steaming pile of shit from JURASSIC PARK‘s dinosaurs. In short, a Bum Rap Flick is a film that is widely-reputed to be so absolutely atrocious as to potentially cause legislation against it - but is actually not all that bad.
CATWOMAN was a prime example of this kind of film. Others include LAST ACTION HERO, GIGLI, ISHTAR, SLIVER, THE INVASION, HOWARD THE DUCK, BATMAN AND ROBIN, and SEASON OF THE WITCH. Oh, wait… that last one truly is a piece of shit. At any rate, all the others were basically so-so. Some even had the potential for greatness, like SLIVER and THE INVASION, but somehow fumbled the ball. This, however, doesn’t make them bad movies. Just misunderstood ones.
There is also a type of actor/actress that I like to call the “Bum Rap Star”. Essentially, the Bum Rap Star is a person that everyone loves to kick around because: (1) it’s easy; (2) it’s convenient; and (3) it’s fashionable. Most performers have gone through the Bum Rap Star phase during one time or another, usually when a few box-office bombs have taken the lustre off their stars. But once they roared back onto the scene with a hugely successful comeback movie, all those “bum-rappers” turned into “ass-kissers.” What a difference a $350 million dollar worldwide gross will do for you Q, eh?
If there was ever a Bum Rap Star to end all Bum Rap Stars, it would be the lovely Madonna. Not the mother of Christ. I’m talking about the one who pranced around in the mid-80’s wearing cone-shaped breasts and singing about how similar she is to a virgin - but not really. Her films, including our latest review, have been uniformly vilified. With the exception of A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN, where she played in an ensemble cast, and DESPERTELY SEEKING SUSAN, where she had more of an extended cameo, most of her flicks have pretty much been treated like criminals in certain remote medieval villages: stoned to death - if they’re lucky.
Titles like SHANGHAI SURPRISE, BODY OF EVIDENCE, SWEPT AWAY, and WHO’S THAT GIRL have been eviscerated in print and celluloid. Judging from some of the write-ups, you’d be forgiven for thinking these movies were basically the cinematic equivalent of watching paint dry - or worse: the cinematic equivalent of a steaming pile of Triceratop dung. Are these films as bad as everyone says? Or their leading lady, for that matter?
Well, while the first three were guilty of nothing more than being somewhat dull and trite, the last one is undeniably an entertaining, sometimes clever hoot. WHO’S THAT GIRL is our latest review - and, sorry, but I love this fucking movie. All you schmucks out there who sent me hate mail for giving GRANDMA’S BOY (review # 48) a rating of ***½ (good) better start puckering up. Because my ass is just begging to be kissed. And, as you know by now, I gave WHO’S THAT GIRL the same rating. Go ahead. Start your hissy fits.
Anyway, Madonna plays our heroine Nikki Finn. Nikki is a NYC ex-con who is paroled after four years of good behavior after being convicted of killing her boyfriend Johnny in a crime of passion. Nikki, however, has another version of the story: she was framed, goddamnit. And she ain’t taking it lying down. That’s what a cowardly whore does. And Nikki is neither a coward nor a whore. Well, maybe she’s just a little bit of a whore. She certainly looks like one.
So… over in Manhattan, we meet our hero Louden Trott (Griffin Dunne), who’s some sort of corporate attorney who is about to marry the boss’ daughter. Louden’s future father-in-law is Simon Worthington (John McMartin), and he’s basically your average mega-rich dickhead. Louden’s future wife is Wendy Worthington (Haviland Morris), and she is basically your average debutante-who’s-really-a-raging-whore. Let’s just say that our gal Wendy has, uh, made the “acquaintance” of half the cab drivers in the Big Apple. I’m surprised the bitch can still walk.
Nikki and Louden’s paths cross when Simon persuades his future son-in-law to escort our heroine to the bus station, where she is expected to hop on the next shuttle for Philly - and meet her parole officer. As I mentioned before, though, Nikki ain’t about to skedaddle from the Big Apple without finding out who set her up. Before you know it, Louden’s essentially playing baby-sitter to a loose cannon with albino-blonde hair, a frilly tutu (like there’s any other kind), and the voice of a hyena that never met a helium canister it didn’t like to suck within an inch of its life. Except Nikki probably also sucks other, uh, canisters.
Will Nikki find out who framed her? Who’s behind the whole conspiracy? Why is Simon so determined to see Nikki leave town? What secret is he hiding? How can Louden balance his wedding preparations to Wendy with trying to keep Nikki from starting a civil war right in the middle of Manhattan? What’s up the with the Pimp and The Fatman? Or that jaguar wearing the diamond necklace? And what happens when Louden finds himself - oh, goddamnit - falling for Nikki. Should I have said “no” to that third bottle of Chardonnay?
Belch. Wow. Chardonnay and anchovies do not go together. My dinner host needs a spanking. Please excuse me. I‘ve got a job to do…
BUT, SERIOUSLY: Like most of Madonna’s films, WHO’S THAT GIRL got a critical and commercial thrashing. Does it deserve it? Is WHO’S THAT GIRL as awful as some quarters make it out to be? Well, in my humble opinion, I’d have to definitively say “NO”. It’s a frothy, irreverent, entertainingly goofy re-do of BRINGING UP BABY (1938), the classic that helped cement the “Screwball Romantic Comedy” formula.
In WHO’S THAT GIRL, the chemistry between leads Madonna and Griffin Dunne is quite strong. Physically, they make a striking pair: Madonna, with her white-blonde hair and pale skin, and Dunne with his darkly handsome features and olive complexion. Whether sparring, making up, sparring again, and making up again, Madonna and Dunne make Nikki and Louden into a fun couple that acts as our “guide” into the zany, improbably wacky world that WHO’S THAT GIRL inhabits.
The script may have its share of corny jokes, but it also has more than its fair share of sharp ones. A lot of the dialogue is clever, droll, and runs the gamut from amusing to outright hilarious. Dunne gets the best ones, as in the scene where Nikki asks Louden if she can meet Wendy. Louden’s response:
“The two of you really don’t have that much in common. She, being a mere human person. And you, being a force-of-nature.”
Ha ha. But Nikki gives as good as she gets - and then some, and Madonna turns her into an adorable, occasionally strident, alluring firecracker who just radiates fun and good will. In the annals of “Unsung Romantic Couples”, Louden and Nikki are very close to the top. If their chemistry had been weaker, all of WHO’S THAT GIRL’s weaknesses would’ve been magnified and possibly destroyed the film. Fortunately, Madonna and Dunne get along like gang-busters.
Of the supporting cast fronted by such vets as John McMartin, John Mills, and Bibi Besch, the standout is the younger Haviland Morris as Wendy Worthington. Morris turns Wendy into an interesting web of contradictions: sweet, but bitchy; prim, yet promiscuous; ditzy, yet smart. She almost makes a worthy “second fiddle” to Nikki. And she’s also one beautiful woman.
Another main reason - besides the magnetic leads and funny script - for WHO’S THAT GIRL’s strength as a movie is its stellar soundtrack, mostly provided by Madonna. Just as THE BODYGUARD was partially elevated by Whitney Houston’s soaring vocals and music, WHO’S THAT GIRL is made even more memorable by its vibrant and sparkling cachet of songs.
But, don’t take my word for it. Listen for yourselves…
