When crass egotism evokes a smile and ethical bankruptcy is cause for mirth, Little Black Book may become a classic of romantic comedy.
By STEVE PERSALL
Published August 5, 2004
[Photo: Columbia Pictures]
In Little Black Book, Stacy Holt (Brittany Murphy) uses her boyfriend’s absence to snoop into his privacy and misuse the information she gathers.
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For all its bright colors and bogus pep, Little Black Book is an ugly little movie. Just when it becomes obvious that nobody in this film deserves our attention or support, the filmmakers plunge into a bitter finale that is supposed to be a cheery life lesson. Instead, it's an example of rotten people getting exactly what they deserve.
Except for the anticlimactic fadeout, of course. Since this is Hollywood, the ringleader of all this selfish behavior, Stacy Holt (Brittany Murphy), gets a tacked-on happy ending. Everything falls together perfectly for her, a hollow climax to a progressively depressing tale.
For Stacy, a character given to intrusive voiceovers, everything is "I," "me," and "mine." She wants to be the next Diane Sawyer, so she gets a production assistant job on a sleazy daytime talk show hosted by Kippie Kann (Kathy Bates). Sawyer should be insulted at what's insinuated about her career beginnings.
Or maybe not. Director Nick Hurran celebrates Sawyer's husband, director Mike Nichols, with constant references to his film Working Girl. Stacy has the poster framed in her office, and that bothersome finale is directly lifted from the 1988 movie. Sawyer had better sense than to appear in a film that ransacks her image, but Working Girl theme song composer Carly Simon makes a "surprise" appearance. (Or is that Steven Tyler?)
Anyway, Stacy's boyfriend, Derek (Ron Livingston), works for the New Jersey Devils hockey team, leading to extra credit for glimpses of the Devils playing the Tampa Bay Lightning. He's on a road trip and left his Palm Pilot at home, giving Stacy a chance to betray his trust by snooping into call records and photographs. What she does with the information is even lower.
Using her talk show connection as a ruse, Stacy interviews three of Derek's former lovers. Lulu (Josie Maran) is a bulimic supermodel who used Derek only for sex. Another is a self-centered gynecologist who Stacy believes is a podiatrist, leading to an examination scene of embarrassing comic desperation. Watching Stacy lie and pry into the lives of these women, who haven't done a thing to harm her, is pathetic entertainment. Murphy, an actor of limited talent, doesn't have the charisma or dual-edge subtlety that might make Stacy palatable.
Holly Hunter, however, is an actor of limitless talent. So why is she wasting time as Barb, a talk show producer acting as Stacy's accomplice? Probably because the final act contains ethical elements that are fun to play and may have seemed more important in the script than they ultimately became in the editing room.
The only character, and actor, who comes out smelling like a wilted rose (rather than something worse) is Julianne Nicholson (Tully), whose overbite and freckles constitute an unconventional beauty. She plays Joyce, another of Derek's former girlfriends, and is so sweetly sincere that the moment she appears on screen, Stacy's chances of winning our affection are completely lost. Rule No. 1 of any movie romance: Don't offer a third romantic party who is a substantially better person than the person we're supposed to root for.
Little Black Book doesn't seem to like women much, which is surprising since two women collaborated on the screenplay. Consider the lesson here: Power and ambition turn a woman into something rhyming with witch. It's a theme running through each female character, and it's expected to be overlooked simply because a familiar 1970s song plays or saucer eyes begin misting. Fat chance. Bad movie.
Little Black Book
Grade: D
Director: Nick Hurran
Cast: Brittany Murphy, Holly Hunter, Julianne Nicholson, Ron Livingston, Kathy Bates, Josie Maran, Sharon Lawrence
