ALFIE
Directed by Charles Shyer
GRADE: B MINUS
Reviewed by Sean Burns
PHILADELPHIA WEEKLY 11/03/04

Lewis Gilbert's 1966 ALFIE is often misremembered as a comedy. Perhaps we think of the film fondly because it represented America's proper introduction to the considerable Cockney charms of star Michael Caine--or maybe it's just Cher singing the famous Burt Bacharach title track over the closing credits.

In any case, just try watching that old ALFIE again--what a grueling experience!

Owing more to the angry-Brit kitchen-sink dramas of John Osborne than the erotic adventures of Austin Powers, this weirdly beloved chestnut showcases the hundreds of ways Caine is able to behave appallingly toward his harem of desperate, needy "birds," before he finally ends up alone and miserable, wondering: "What's it all about?"

Lucky for us, the glossy, often entertaining ALFIE remake is indeed a comedy. Directed with glamour and style by former hack Charles Shyer, this newfangled ALFIE is at least savvy enough to foist its slickster protagonist's feckless womanizing onto a bunch of modern-minded "birds" tough enough to absorb his mistreatment.

The crucial difference is that this time around, when Alfie loves 'em and leaves 'em, they're disappointed--not devastated.

The film also serves as a proper American introduction to the beguiling star qualities of Jude Law. Often content to hide his light under a bushel in off-kilter character parts, the obscenely handsome Law at last lets his 1.21-gigawatt charisma burn through this tragedy of a deeply shallow young man.

Set in Shyer's fantasyland ****-a-thon New York City (a place so magical all the women look like models and you can still smoke in bars), Law's Alfie Elkins bumps uglies with half a dozen young lovelies, always conveniently ducking out whenever anything threatens to get a bit too emotionally complicated.

Law is an outrageously adorable scamp, offering knowing, ticklish asides into the camera lens while preparing to mount Marisa Tomei's yummy mummy, Nia Long's sly bartender or (best of all) Susan Sarandon's millionaire man-eater.

No stranger to remakes, Shyer previously retooled THE PARENT TRAP and FATHER OF THE BRIDE alongside his (now ex-)wife Nancy Meyers. Stylistically, ALFIE is an enormous leap forward, full of bold choices (an entire courtship is rendered through a flickering montage of still photographs) and lush production values.

Cinematographer Ashley Rowe seems to be getting drunk on the sheer ridiculous gorgeousness of his subjects. Sarandon better be sending him Christmas cards.

But in the end it's hard to shake the notion that this funnier, glossier ALFIE has been watered down just a teensy bit too much.

The late-game revelations feel like last-minute punch-pulling--you didn't really think anybody would actually be allowed to go through with an abortion in a major studio release, did you? By stripping the original of its nastier undercurrents, Shyer and co. have accidentally made things a bit too easy on both their protagonist and the audience.

This time, when Alfie asks, "What's it all about?" we're having too much fun to feel his soul-sickness. It's lightweight desolation.