Featuring a large ensemble cast and a few witty moments, "The Real Blonde" hopes to be a sardonic exploration of people's superficialities in both their lives and careers. Instead, it comes off as an occasionally humorous, but ultimately disorganized film whose message is too apparently worn on its own sleeve to go down as one of the better satiric films of recent times.
The film's faults are varied, but the most considerable one deals with the simple fact that there are too many characters present. Looking like a casting agent's dream, and featuring the equivalent of a younger staffed disaster film -- where "has been" and "B class" performers are corralled together to make a picture -- this movie can't support the unwieldy cast. Although the film tries to focus on Modine's character, as well as those played by Keener and Caulfield, there are just too many recognizable faces inhabiting too many superfluous characters that only serve to diffuse and/or distract one's attention away from the main plot.
Just look at the film's plot as listed above and note all of the recognizable names -- Modine ("Full Metal Jacket," "Memphis Belle"), Hannah ("Splash"), Berkeley ("Showgirls"), Thomas ("That Girl"), Lloyd (the "Back To The Future" movies), Turner ("Body Heat," "Romancing The Stone"), etc... For whatever reason, these "name" actors decided to jump onto this production, although it's not quite clear why they decided to do so. While some of the parts are simply glorified cameos -- Steve Buscemi ("Fargo") as a music video director and Bucky Henry ("Defending Your Life") as Mary's libidinous psychiatrist -- others are more substantial but certainly not developed, such as Denis Leary's ("Wag The Dog") self-defense coach who seems to get a perverted charge out of insulting his students as part of his instruction.
Whatever the size of the part, the end result is that the audience soon begins to anticipate who the next star will be and what part they'll play. Although that's somewhat of a fun "game" in which to participate, it certainly doesn't help guide the plot in anything resembling forward motion. Along with the many characters, there are all sorts of mini-sub plots popping up everywhere that make the movie wobble back and forth like a weeble. An opening and closing bit about an older woman losing her dog to a thief and finally having it return home at the end is pointlessly redundant (and shamelessly tries to be symbolic of everything in the story being okay again at the end after briefly falling apart during it).
Perhaps the many name actors signed on to work with writer/director Tom DiCillo whose previous films, such as "Box Of Moonlight" have been actors' dream pieces they'd die for. Yet whereas "Box" featured quirky characters in a quirky plot, DiCillo aims "The Real Blonde" in more of a straight and narrow fashion. While a few of the characters have some peculiar behavior(s), the leads for the most part -- particularly Modine -- are bland and listless.
While Modine often plays his characters as "normal" people, he's also often portrayed them with some quirky behavior ("Married to the Mob") and that's desperately needed here to make this movie play out the way DiCillo's intends. As he plays this character, Modine is fine and believable in his performance, but there's just not much there to get inspired about. The same goes for Catherine Kenner (who's appeared in all of DiCillo's films). She's completely believable in her role as the frustrated, longstanding girlfriend, but isn't likely a character you'll remember long after leaving the theater.
Among the leads, it's only Maxwell Caulfield ("Grease 2") who gets to play an interesting, albeit skewed part. Inhabiting a man who's looking for any of the few natural blondes that exist (in his mind), he hams it up nicely as an arrogant soap opera star who finds that he can't "perform" once he discovers the type of woman he's been looking for. Most of the "cameo" performers, however, haven't been given much with which to work, although Marlo Thomas (of TV's 1960's hit, "That Girl") is good as a gung ho fashion photographer, and Christopher Lloyd delivers a decent take as a fastidious catering manager.
What also hurts the film is that much of it feels like a Woody Allen wannabe story. The unmarried Manhattan couple argue and discuss their sex lives (in unfortunately long, tiresome bits), and Modine's Joe goes on about why women appear in sexy underwear in ads, while men show up in boring boxers or briefs. One can clearly see Allen starring in this film (along with his neurotic tendencies) and he would have been a much better lead than Modine. DiCillo tries to use a version of Allen's trademark observational humor -- and occasionally succeeds -- but the film lacks the real biting wit that the famous Manhattan resident often infuses into his films. We know we're supposed to laugh at many of this film's moments, but the problem is that most of them just aren't that funny.
For every moment that works -- such as an argument over a film's worthiness spreading from table to table in a restaurant -- there are many more that don't, including long takes on the silliness of soap operas that aren't that silly here, and have been more successfully raked over the coals in other films. For a while it looks like DiCillo is going to interject some fantasy segments into the story, thus keeping the audience off balance about what's reality and what's not -- a good tie-in with his theme of superficiality -- but after two quick scenes, those fantasy elements disappear.
The other problem is that DiCillo tries too hard to make his social statement and the results are way too obvious. When Sahara shows up with a black eye (which is never fully explained) he glosses over the cause and has Marlo Thomas' photographer character spin this problem around into a solution -- she paints additional bruises on her and another model to better go along with the pythons appearing in the ads. Another moment details what led up a photograph that visually opens the movie, but again the point is hammered a bit too hard about things not being really what they appear to be. Adding to that, Joe's repeated attempts at delivering a bit of dialogue from "Death Of A Salesman" ("Everyone around me is so false, I'm constantly lowering my ideals") so explicitly symbolizes what the writer/director is trying to say that everything comes off feeling too heavy handed.
Had DiCillo reduced the number of performers appearing here, jazzed up the remaining characters, and either softened the social commentary or conversely exaggerated it for maximum effect, this would have been a better film. As it stands, it's a picture that's all over the place, has too many characters and isn't funny enough in skewering its subjects. Thus, we give "The Real Blonde" a 4.5 out of 10.