Bonneville is the result of what happens when a bunch of men produce a movie about-- and ostensibly for-- women, but make sure it's written and directed by men. Honestly, I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever get to see the woman's point of view in a Hollywood movie. Ever.
Three BFF's of a certain age, set out on a road trip for the purpose of personally delivering the remains of one's recently deceased husband, to his funeral service. You see, the man's daughter by his first marriage, is intent on having Daddy interred with Mommy, even though Daddy was married to another woman for the last 20 years of his life. But we all know that women are jealous of other women so if the widow doesn't ante up the ashes, the step-daughter will take away her house.
There are many similarities between this and another significant female buddy road trip movie from a few years back. The Bonneville gals even don the "uniform" of the free feminine spiritthe chiffon head scarf and a pair of big dark glasses a la Grace Kelly. Not to mention, they're in a convertible and the sight of all that unruly hair would be too much for most viewers.
En route from Idaho to California, Arvilla, the widow and her pals, the feisty Marjeen, and Carolyn, the obedient Morman, prove that women just can't be left on their own as they helplessly stand by, pondering their fate, when they blow a tire on the Salt Flats of Utah. Thank God that a young strapping man on his own personal quest wanders up to save them. Thank the screenwriter that this hottie doesn't sleep with one of them and steal their money.
During a few more stops along the way that seem impromptu but are really part of Arvilla's grand scheme to relive earlier adventures, albeit only in her mind, we are lulled by lovely scenery, a new-age hip soundtrack (courtesy of the young strapping man), and the predictable bit of bickering from our menopausal ménage.
And what girl-bonding trip would be complete without a handsome silver-fox to ride in and rescue the quirkiest, least attractive yet most "real" gal with true romance? So much for real-life rejection and disappointment.
Eventually, the three take a break from all this passivity and rent a houseboat on a convenient lake. Mere hours later Arvilla manages to run it aground. I kept waiting for her to accidentally drive the car off into a canyon. Oh wait, that's the other movie...
Fellas, let me tell you a secret: For centuries women have known that if they act helpless, you'll not only take over and do the dirty work, you'll feel better about yourselves having done it. She's running the whole game but she doesn't even have to break a nail. But trust me, when you're not around, she does just fine. In fact, women are infinitely more collaborative than movies (and men) give them credit. It is not credible to think that Kathy Bates couldn't have put her weight into getting that lug nut off the wheel. Even less so that the three of them didn't work together to figure it out. So stick to writing and directing and producing those fresh and original young man coming-of-age stories. No one does them better than you. Lord knows you've had enough practice.
At last we gather at a chapel to honor the absent patriarch, but where a woman's master plan is undone by simple clumsiness played for laughs. If you like your cine-women to act out the rituals of sisterhood, yet worship at the altar of men, this might be your movie. Personally I hope the next time I travel the heroine's journey to rediscover the feminine spirit-- yet remapped as folklore by men is never. Ever.
Three BFF's of a certain age, set out on a road trip for the purpose of personally delivering the remains of one's recently deceased husband, to his funeral service. You see, the man's daughter by his first marriage, is intent on having Daddy interred with Mommy, even though Daddy was married to another woman for the last 20 years of his life. But we all know that women are jealous of other women so if the widow doesn't ante up the ashes, the step-daughter will take away her house.
There are many similarities between this and another significant female buddy road trip movie from a few years back. The Bonneville gals even don the "uniform" of the free feminine spiritthe chiffon head scarf and a pair of big dark glasses a la Grace Kelly. Not to mention, they're in a convertible and the sight of all that unruly hair would be too much for most viewers.
En route from Idaho to California, Arvilla, the widow and her pals, the feisty Marjeen, and Carolyn, the obedient Morman, prove that women just can't be left on their own as they helplessly stand by, pondering their fate, when they blow a tire on the Salt Flats of Utah. Thank God that a young strapping man on his own personal quest wanders up to save them. Thank the screenwriter that this hottie doesn't sleep with one of them and steal their money.
During a few more stops along the way that seem impromptu but are really part of Arvilla's grand scheme to relive earlier adventures, albeit only in her mind, we are lulled by lovely scenery, a new-age hip soundtrack (courtesy of the young strapping man), and the predictable bit of bickering from our menopausal ménage.
And what girl-bonding trip would be complete without a handsome silver-fox to ride in and rescue the quirkiest, least attractive yet most "real" gal with true romance? So much for real-life rejection and disappointment.
Eventually, the three take a break from all this passivity and rent a houseboat on a convenient lake. Mere hours later Arvilla manages to run it aground. I kept waiting for her to accidentally drive the car off into a canyon. Oh wait, that's the other movie...
Fellas, let me tell you a secret: For centuries women have known that if they act helpless, you'll not only take over and do the dirty work, you'll feel better about yourselves having done it. She's running the whole game but she doesn't even have to break a nail. But trust me, when you're not around, she does just fine. In fact, women are infinitely more collaborative than movies (and men) give them credit. It is not credible to think that Kathy Bates couldn't have put her weight into getting that lug nut off the wheel. Even less so that the three of them didn't work together to figure it out. So stick to writing and directing and producing those fresh and original young man coming-of-age stories. No one does them better than you. Lord knows you've had enough practice.
At last we gather at a chapel to honor the absent patriarch, but where a woman's master plan is undone by simple clumsiness played for laughs. If you like your cine-women to act out the rituals of sisterhood, yet worship at the altar of men, this might be your movie. Personally I hope the next time I travel the heroine's journey to rediscover the feminine spirit-- yet remapped as folklore by men is never. Ever.