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At least, that’s where it feels like it’s going, but it doesn’t. One thing I enjoy about 70s cinema is that films weren’t afraid to take their time telling a story. Stepford is no different, but in this case the story goes nowhere, or at least wanders around in the woods for 20 minutes at a time before coming back to tease you with interesting little plot nuggets, and then off it goes again into the darkness. There are more than a few “concerned people sitting around discussing their concerns” scenes, but the story lurches forward ahead of it’s own exposition, leaving you scratching your head and checking your watch every few minutes.

It’s a damn shame because the screenwriter, William Goldman, is credited with some great stuff. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, All the President’s Men, Misery, Chaplin...he even wrote The Goddamn Princess Bride!! Meanwhile, The Stepford Wives boasts all of the length but none of the depth inherent to any of those films. Let’s give some credit - Joanna’s interest in photography isn’t just useless backstory; the movie actually returns to it at a critical point and allows its female lead to be a legitimate protagonist. But the threat she and Bobbie face is so ill defined, and their reaction to it is so haphazard that for most of the film’s runtime, it feels like very little is actually happening.

We’re even forced, about halfway through the movie, to sit through a pointless character introduction as we meet someone from Joanna’s past who tries to help them. It’s a mind numbingly awkward scene that doesn’t move the story forward enough to justify its existence. Plus, the issue at hand feels like something that could have been solved with a phone call. After all this, the film’s crescendo is about what you’d expect - and while it’s memorable, it doesn’t feel worth the wait and it certainly doesn’t feel earned.

The Stepford Wives has been remade more than once, and it deserves to. Not as an unfunny comedy starring Nicole Kidman - but as the dark, biting social satire it should have been. In its current state, what’s often billed as a “sci-fi/horror thriller” is nowhere near any of those things. I would have settled for an obvious satire of gender stereotypes, but somehow, this film pretty much fails at that, too. The Twilight Zone could have told the same story with three sets, a cast of six, and a full complement of commercial breaks. And, told it better.

The only thing truly remarkable about Stepford is the premise itself, which (if you don’t already know it) I obviously can’t reveal without spoiling the plot. Do you see the cruel humor of my dilemma? The one cool thing about this movie is the one thing I’m forbidden to tell you. And if I did, not only would the International Brotherhood of Film Critics and Hyper-Masculine Adventurers strip me of my credentials, but there would then be no reason for you to watch The Stepford Wives. And you should, because it’s kind of interesting.

Okay, so it’s dull, overlong, underwhelming and occasionally vapid, but it’s still interesting. I know I’m speaking out of both sides of my mouth, but I’m a little mad at this movie for not being better than it is. This is not a bad film, despite absolutely none of the central questions it raises ever being sufficiently answered. It’s just not quite good...enough. It’s like when your favorite team makes the playoffs, but then goes one and done. Or when someone you love drops dead on your birthday. Everything was great...except in all the ways that it wasn’t. This is a film, after all, whose biggest plot point is ultimately answered with a shrug.

And I mean that literally.

Perhaps one of you will be the genius who gives this story the revival it deserves. And I trust you will, of course, remember to thank me in the credits. Maybe you’ll even let me introduce you at the Oscars. My statuette can be half-size; I’m not greedy. Of course, you could also go read the book on which the film is based. But I should warn you; it’s well over 140 characters long, making it a hopeless anachronism in this day and age. Instead, if you’re looking for a clever film about family dysfunction and role reversals, might I suggest Twins? It’s also not that great, but it’s funny and largely succeeds on its own terms.

And who was paid handsomely to punch up the script? William Goldman.

See? No matter how long the article, I’ll always bring you home. Goodnight, everyone!

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