The Women (12A)

Meg Ryan: Time to start drinking

This is a starry update of George Cukor's 1939 catty, all-female comedy about a wealthy woman (Norma Shearer) who discovers that her husband is having an affair with a trashy shopgirl (Joan Crawford).

To fit in with political correctness and the taste for female bonding which made such a hit out of Sex And The City, an acerbic satire on shallow socialites has been transformed into a cosy celebration of friendship among smug, middle-class women.

This is not an improvement.

Meg Ryan plays the wronged wife and Eva Mendes the shopgirl. Unfortunately, Ryan is so self-centred and immature, while Mendes is so sexy, it's all too easy to see why hubby went astray, and less than plausible when he wants to come back.

Also, there's an unpleasant, unspoken subtext of class hatred. Mendes's character is clearly Hispanic and working class, while the women who despise her regard themselves as her social superiors.

Our irritating heroine's snobby support group consists of Annette Bening as a neurotic magazine editor, Jada Pinkett Smith as a lesbian writer of bestsellers and Debra Messing as a perpetually pregnant mother.

Candice Bergen turns up as Meg Ryan's mum and pilfers the funniest lines, such as her description of a friend who's just had plastic surgery: 'She looks like she's re-entering the Earth's atmosphere.'

I enjoyed her offering her daughter a stiff drink at lunchtime: 'I know you don't drink in the afternoon, but you will eventually, so why not start now?'

Bette Midler contributes a pointless cameo, which only reminds us that she used to do this kind of thing much better.

Writer-director Diane English's track record is in sitcoms such as Murphy Brown, and it shows. The characterisation is thin and the plot as feeble and mechanical as soap opera. There are far too many static, two-hander dialogue scenes where nothing really happens.

For anyone who can't wait until Sex And The City 2, this may pass the time, but the yammering about what women want is tiresome when we don't have an emotional investment in these people.

Admittedly, I am a man, but I am partial to a good chick flick. This one made me feel as if I had been trapped in the perfume hall at Selfridges.

Verdict: Rarely have I felt more manly