Remake of Luce's smart play below par

"A man has only one escape from his old self: to see a different self in the mirror of some other woman's eyes." — Clare Boothe Luce, playwright.

No doubt early feminist Clare Boothe Luce, who is buried along with her husband, daughter and mother at Mepkin Abbey near Moncks Corner, would be livid if she saw the remake of the film "The Women," based on Luce's hit 1936 Broadway play that earned her $2 million when she was only 35.

Adapted and directed by Diane English of television's "Murphy Brown" fame, this tawdry version of the groundbreaking all-female comedy is now playing at multiplexes throughout the country.

Many may not be aware that Luce played a part in Charleston life from the time her husband, Henry R. Luce II, publisher of Time, Fortune and Life magazines, purchased Mepkin Plantation, a tract of land along the Cooper River near Moncks Corner in 1936. Although in 1949 the Luces gave the plantation to the Trappist Order for the monks to use for religious, educational and charitable purposes, the agreement was that the Luce family would be welcomed to visit when they wished and could be buried there.

Not only a successful playwright and writer and editor with Vanity Fair and Vogue, Luce represented Connecticut for two years in Congress and was appointed ambassador to Brazil and Italy.

In 1975, she was invited by retired Army Gen. Mark Clark, former president of The Citadel, to attend the dedication of the Yorktown aircraft carrier in Mount Pleasant. Luce told Clark then, "I love that old plantation (Mepkin) and feel the comfort and solace that made me fall in love with the place 40 years ago."

In 1984, only three years before her death, Luce received an honorary degree from the Medical University of South Carolina.

My longtime admiration for Luce, along with her close connection to the Lowcountry, are among the reasons I was so outraged at the dumbing down of Luce's witty, brilliant play. Many consider this work to be the apotheosis of early women's liberation humorously framed by scenes of back-biting among upper-class wives whose identities mainly rested on their husband's laurels.

For the 2001 revival I saw on Broadway, director Scott Elliott retained the 1930s setting, accented with elegant period costumes by Isaac Mizrahi.

Cynthia Nixon, best known for her role on the television series "Sex and the City," perfectly nailed the role of socialite Mary Haines, a woman who learns that she cannot be passive when her marriage and happiness are threatened. Kristen Johnston also was on target as Mary's "best friend" Sylvia, and Jennifer Tilly hilarious as Crystal Allen, the Other Woman. Jennifer Coolidge ("American Pie") took the role of Edith, who is always having children, even though they merely seem to get in her way, an expression of Luce's strong feeling that world overpopulation would turn into a tremendous problem for the future.

Unlike the current celluloid disaster, the 1939 film, directed by George Cukor, is largely faithful to the play, and superbly acted by Norma Shearer, Rosalind Russell and Joan Crawford in principal roles. The movie also shows how sometimes the "other" woman is the "right" woman.

When I first heard about the remake of "The Women," released last week, I was ecstatic that the technically superb Annette Bening was going to co-star as Sylvia, although I was dismayed that Meg Ryan would star as Mary Haines. But I was hopeful that bit players such as Candice Bergen as Mary's helpful but acerbic mother; Cloris Leachman as Maggie the maid and Debra Messing, as the ever-pregnant Edith, would keep the screen sparkling.

But as I sat in the dark theater, I was embarrassed to be watching such third-rate writing.

Unlike the play and the classy 1939 film, this version has an ending with no connection to the betrayal of Mary Haines.

Instead, Debra Messing, a minor character, is used in a slapstick scene, as she gives birth to her fifth or sixth child (I lost count). This hackneyed device has been done to death on television and film. Here, it is used as a desperate way to get laughs.

The main cause of angst in the plot is skimmed over, as Ryan incidentally receives a conciliatory phone call from her estranged husband, as the women all crowd around the screaming Messing, who is suddenly the star.

Sadly, I believe Luce would be most disappointed in the fact that Mary, a longtime designer in her father's fashion business, now wants to "define" herself by developing her own line of clothing.

But where, oh where, will she get the money for her own business? Will she fearlessly beat the bushes to convince backers to have faith in her fashion acumen?

No way.

Conveniently, her wealthy mom offers to simply hand over the dough.

This exemplifies the anti-thesis of one of Luce's better- known quotes, which she, herself, followed her entire life: "A woman's best production is a little money of her own."

Reach Dottie Ashley at 937-5704 or dashley@postand courier.com.