BEWITCHED

My anticipation of this big-screen version of the popular TV show was like a series of peaks and valleys, careening up and down between “OMG, it’s going to be great!” and “Oh man, I bet this is gonna suck.” 

I loved the idea of Will Ferrell in another movie, but I wasn’t sold on the notion of Nicole Kidman selling a comedy. I looked forward to the witchly story of mismatched lovers, but cringed when it was revealed that the film’s plot wouldn’t necessarily mirror that of its television inspiration.

Strangely enough, that bi-polar-like sensation was mirrored by the actual film itself, which bounced back and forth between good to bad to good to bad over and over again throughout.

Directed by Nora Ephron, who has a knack for the realm of romantic comedies, the story finds once-lauded actor Jack Wyatt (Ferrell) struggling to hang on to his fading career. He’s a bit like a cross between Bruce Willis and Brad Pitt – a big-budget movie star suffering from a string of box-office flops. In a bid to reinvent himself and climb back to the Hollywood top, Jack signs on to play Darren in a television remake of Bewitched. The only thing is, he wants to be the star, not the second fiddle, and demands – at the urging of his nebbish agent, Ritchie (Jason Schwartzman) – that a complete unknown be cast as Samantha.

At the same time, erstwhile real-life witch Isabel Bigelow (Kidman) is trying to live her life as a normal human being. She’s decided to give up her witch powers (for the most part, anyway) to become an average gal, much to the chagrin of her skeptical warlock father (Michael Caine). But when Jack spots Isabel moving her nose in a decidedly Samantha-esque manner, he handpicks her to play his TV wife. Magical and non-magical hijinks ensue as Isabel tries to become an actress, while Jack attempts to relegate her to little more than series set dressing so that his own star will shine that much brighter. Needless to say, Isabel is none too pleased with that particular plan.

The story meanders along and can’t quite center itself long enough to figure out what it wants to say: is it a movie about a witch and a mortal in love? is it a movie about an egomaniacal star whose grand scheme backfires? is it about witches and warlocks and magic? is it about the insanity of Hollywood? is it about trying to cash in on the growing trend of recycling television shows into movies only to have them fail miserably? There are so many story arcs being juggled in the air that none of them get a decent screen treatment, and the proceedings probably would have gone much more smoothly if some of the tangential plots had been trimmed down or discarded altogether.

Equally crowded is the character roster, with at least a half dozen peripheral characters clogging an already filled screen. Kristin Chenowith’s lascivious neighbor, David Alan Grier (LOVE him!) wasted in the role of a nondescript director, Michael Badalucco’s pointless dog trainer, Stephen Colbert’s thankless turn as a show producer and even Shirley MacLaine, as the actress hired to play Endora, could have all been cut out of the script completely without hampering the film at all. As with the multiple plots muddling the central story, the multitude of largely inconsequential secondary characters does nothing but chip away at the time (and focus) that should be allotted the film’s stars and the building of their relationship.

Which brings me to Nicole Kidman’s Isabel. (Note: Will Ferrell? Fine work. Nicely manically self-absorbed and over-the-top to just the right degree! Thanks very much.) For some strange reason, Isabel seems to be entering the world of humans from some unknown realm where, apparently, she lived under a rock. She knows NOTHING about life. At all. Or does she? It’s very inconsistent. She doesn’t know what money is and can’t figure out how a TV works, yet she peruses a bookstore aisle for self-help books, has heard of the series Bewitched and manages to fool her real estate agent with some clever trickery. Isabel also speaks in an irritatingly breathy, baby voice throughout that makes her sound like a simpleton. She comes off as supremely (and inexplicably) naïve, which was disappointing given the spunk of Elizabeth Montgomery’s TV witch.

And no matter how hard she tries, Kidman never seems relaxed. Her comedy feels stiff and awkward and forced, which conflicts with Ferrell’s more free ‘n’ easy loosey-goosey style. I realize the character of Isabel is intended to be new to the modern-day world (again, where the heck did she come from?!) and therefore somewhat wide-eyed and cautious, but I didn’t buy the act and felt a supreme lack of chemistry between the film’s two leads.

There are several great moments sprinkled throughout – Steve Carell’s Uncle Arthur, Isabel’s cute cat, Ephron veteran Heather Burns as a feminist writer, a brief glimpse of Amy Sedaris! – that buoy the proceedings from time to time just enough to keep things interesting. But, as a whole, Bewitched the movie ultimately scores more losses than wins and didn’t cast its spell over me.