May is waiting for her boyfriend in a run-down American motel, when an old flame turns up and threatens to undermine her efforts and drag her back into the life that she was running away from. The situation soon turns complicated.
Harry Dean Stanton
The familiar tragic story of Vincent van Gogh is broadened by focusing as well on his brother Theodore, who helped support Vincent. The movie also provides a nice view of the locations which Vincent painted.
This is an insane and fast-paced romantic comedy about a bizarre dinner date among Bruce (Goldblum) and Prudence (Hagerty), and their lunatic therapists, and Bruce's jealous, gun-wielding ... See full summary »
A fashion show in Paris draws the usual bunch of people; designers, reporters, models, magazine editors, photographers. Lots of unconnected stories which all revolve around this show, and an all-star cast.Written by
Karl Lagerfeld successfully blocked the film's release in Germany by launching a lawsuit against the makers over a line spoken by Forest Whitaker's character calling Lagerfeld a thief. In the end, the film was released with the word "thief" masked by a beep. See more »
In the hotel room, Anne Eisenhower lifts a glass of wine from Joe Flynn's dining cart with her left hand and takes a drink. Joe makes a comment and it can be seen that Anne's left arm is up to her face (she is visible from the chest down), but when we cut back to Anne the glass is in her right hand as she puts it down. See more »
[subtitled version - opening lines are in French, the English subtitles are a very rough translation]
Olivier de la Fontaine:
Moscow? What's this about? Put that on the desk. Dear Mr. de la Fontaine: blah, blah, blah, blah... blah, blah, blah, blah...
Isabella de la Fontaine:
Robin. Robin. I told you not to! It's dirty. You shouldn't do that. Not in the house.
[to Olivier de la Fontaine]
Isabella de la Fontaine:
You're a shit.
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The film's opening scene where Mastroianni buys the 2 Dior ties is set in Moscow's Red Square and the first 2 lines of credits (a Miramax production and a Robert Altman film) appear solely in Cyrillic characters See more »
It was truly exciting to see `Ready to Wear' in the theaters when it first came out. Seldom do films delight and amuse us at this level. But this is like a Woody Allen film: either you love it or hate it. Since the story is too complicated to explain (and the best thing about this film), I'm sticking to mostly non-plot aspects in this review.
One of the challenges in your first viewing will be this film's utter lack of exposition. You will be asked to board this train while it is moving; in fact, you will need to leap from track to track. The story is not unfolded as much as it is thrown at you in pieces. Two minutes after you are tossed into a conversation (already in progress), you will be asked to join another. Unless you have a mind as competitively poised as a super-model, you'll miss much of the movie the first time.
Don't let the immersion in the world of fashion fool you into thinking this is a movie `about' fashion. Fashion is merely a backdrop, a setting for Altman to play his scenes. That he so thoroughly masters his subject is merely a tribute to his intelligence and sophistication.
Like Milos Forman in `The Firemen's Ball,' Altman has created a wonderful menagerie of human foibles with which to lampoon us. Our pettiness, our lack of shame, our corruption and our low regard for each other are portrayed so truthfully and cleverly that we don't notice who is the real subject of the satire. We smugly assume it is the fashion world on trial.
Even the opening credits were fun - what a collection of personalities (all stitched on garment labels)!. Every casting decision was a good one; every performance was satisfying. The only thing funnier than Danny Aiello in drag, is watching him being told he looks like Barbra Streisand. And the only thing funnier than that is realizing it's true.
While we're trying to figure out a murder, we are also being dazzled by the constellation of world stars of all kinds parading before us. That Altman dared to attempt such a feat (the group photo at Versailles alone must have been a challenge) is not half as astonishing as that he pulled it off. But the stars, too, are merely a backdrop to funny stories and situations. No one but Altman could make an Elsa Klensch cameo so surprisingly hilarious. The interview about the pouf skirts was just plain funny. But will most of the audience appreciate it? `I doubt it.'
Another delight is Altman's pervasive references to clothing, so dominant you will miss half of them. A cab driver, identifying a murderer, tells the police `all white people look alike.' How does he tell them apart? `By their clothes.' Film is confiscated from a fashion shoot, because the murder suspect was inadvertently captured in the background. But his face was cutoff in every shot. `We don't know what he looks like,' the detective complains. `But we know what he was wearing.' Every conversation, every plot, each detail is so thoroughly self-referencing to fashion; but mostly, there are dozens of funny moments. Even the red herring of murder is based on our mistaking an innocent fashion item for an omen of death.
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