t's a beautiful moment, really.
As Josie (a likable yet wooden Rachael Leigh Cook) tinkers with the insides of the car of number one crush Alan M. (Gabriel Mann), the duo have an ambiguously flirtatious conversation that goes something like this:
"Hey Josie, did you ever really want to say something... but were too afraid to?"
"Yes!" (Imagine an I-want-to-eat-your-face look in Josie's eyes.)
"Okay. This guy at work really, really stinks."
"You mean like wet trash in the summer?"
"Yeah, exactly, but I don't have the heart to tell him."
Well, pretty boy, I have the cojones to say what you couldn't: Josie and the Pussycats stinks worse than wet trash in the summer.
Yes, all three Pussycats-Cook, Rosario Dawson as the vacant but lovable Val, and Tara Reid as the uneasy Melody-are gorgeous. Yes, the sets are ambitious in their over-the-top, comic-book-on-LSD style. Yes (and I hate to admit this), the Babyface produced songs are disturbingly catchy. But this movie is still a candy-coated piece of pop fluff, and not a very good one at that.
Based on an old-school comic book and cartoon characters, Pussycats finds its heroines in a hyper-commercialized world of corporate greed and teenage conformity. Advertisements for Target, Revlon and Starbucks abound, and every kid who listens to pop music cannot help herself but consume any and all products that have been deemed cool by TRL ringleader Carson Daly.
Sound familiar?
The similarities to our Backstreet-driven world end here, however, because the wicked CEO of MegaRecords, Fiona (indie fave Parker Posey, in another campy performance) has the MovieFone guy read subliminal messages into the CDs of pop's hottest acts. With this devilish scheme, she, along with the U.S. government (gasp!), attempts to turn America's youth into perfect buying machines.
While this subject matter could have created some amusing scenarios for Josie and Co., co-directors and screenwriters Harry Elfont and Deborah Kaplan take the film in only predictable directions. The Pussycats are bestest friends, and when fame tears at their bond, they realize that friendship is more important than petty materialism. Yawn.
After their reconciliation, as I wiped away my last tear of joy, I realized that I had just wasted over an hour and a half of my life with a very lackluster film.
Don't make the same mistake.
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