Why Steel Magnolias Became the Ultimate Hen Flick and the Ya-Yas . . . Didn't

In honor of Rebecca Wells, one of my favorite writers, releasing a new book tomorrow (yeah), I feel the need to ponder on what seems like one of the great lost opportunities in the pantheon of women's fiction and movies.

The formulas follow the same pattern: stories of a multi-generational group of Louisiana women who share laughter and heartache, based on popular source material, with all-star casts of respected actors. But Steel Magnolias (1989), based on the play by Robert Harling, became a box-office hit and the defining canon of women’s films. Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood (2002), based on the popular books by Rebecca Wells, has all the same ingredients, yet performed below expectations and now reigns among the second tier of chick flicks. While the Ya-Ya film certainly has its share of fans, overall it has been dismissed as a lesser Steel Magnolias wanna-be. Understanding why reveals much about the state of women’s films, what works, and what doesn’t.

Certainly part of the difference lies in timing. Simply by being first, and successful, SM serves as the point of comparison for Ya-Ya. The ad campaign for Ya-Ya relied heavily on this comparison, clearly pitching the worn-out claim, “If you liked X [Steel Magnolias], you’ll love Y [Ya-Ya].” Even today, one can rarely find a review of Ya-Ya that does not draw comparisons to SM. Indeed, based on Internet reviews, one would think that the Steel Magnolias vs. Ya-Yas debate is as much a cultural marker as the “Mary Ann vs. Ginger” or “Betty vs. Veronica” divide. Which side you fall upon in the debate reveals as much about your own personality as it does about the films. Once again, film execs underestimate the effectiveness of the tagline.

Disregarding the timing and ineffective marketing approaches, what about the two films themselves accounts for the difference in popularity and legacy?

Let’s begin with casting. To many fans, the key difference can be summed up in two words: Julia Roberts. Granted, this film did much to launch fair Julia’s reign as America’s Sweetheart (and secured her first Oscar nomination), but I would posit that all of the roles were perfectly cast (the physical dissimilarities between Julia and onscreen parents Sally Field and Tom Skerritt not withstanding) and portrayed by all the actors. Even Dolly Parton, an entertainer whose charisma can sometimes overwhelm her limited acting range, was perfect for the role of hairdresser Truvy. Credit must be paid to casting director Hank McCann for fitting actors to characters.

Secondly, related to casting, was the screenplay, which retained enough of the witty banter and memorable dialogue to entertain and balance out the more dramatic moments. In many ways, SM is the perfect bipolar movie, with both gut-busting laughs and gut-wrenching drama guaranteed to make the viewers shed tears of laughter and joy. Both the high and low moments are delivered perfectly by the cast, whose characters remain distinctive individuals.

On paper, the Ya-Yas casting seems perfect as well: Ashley Judd, Ellen Burstyn, James Garner, etc., etc. Rarely does a film boast such a fine pedigree, with a host of actors I admire and love to see in just about any role. They even cast the other “America’s Sweetheart,” Sandra Bullock, in the adult daughter role, ala Ms. Roberts. Therein lay the problem. The producers were trying too hard to emulate the SM formula in the all-star casting, especially with Sandra Bullock in the key role of Sidda Walker, a serious character more reminiscent of Meredith Grey than Shelby Eatenton. Yet the casting choice almost required this unfair comparison between the two actresses. First of all, let me say that I personally adore my fellow Austinite Sandra Bullock, a charming and down-to-earth lady who can be highly entertaining the in the right role, and I appreciate her efforts to break free from rom-com typecasting. However, I think she was completely the wrong choice for this dour, confused character. Remember, Julia Roberts had only had one role, in the sleeper Mystic Pizza, before SM. Perhaps Ya-Ya would have been better served by casting an unknown in this pivotal part.

The casting issues are compounded by the shaky debut directorial debut of Thelma and Louise writer Callie Khouri and a less-than-stellar screenplay, whose liberties with the original source material serve to weaken, rather than strengthen, the characters and storyline. The contrived kidnapping of Sidda by the Ya-Yas is unnecessary and only seems designed to highlight the group’s eccentricities. Several film critics have commented that it is impossible to tell the difference between the three supporting Ya-Yas other than that Maggie Smith has the oxygen tank, Fionnula Flanagan chews gum, and Shirley Knight is the whiny one. None seem distinctive characters on their own and only serve as a chorus of nutty southern alcoholics. Indeed, the screenplay and direction of the film comes across as insulting to southerners in general, expecting the audience to laugh at, rather than with, the characters. In Rebecca Wells’s books (and SM), each woman is a distinct person with her own unique personality, producing laughter and tears that seem natural rather than forced. The Ya-Ya filmmakers should have given more credit to the strengths of the original novel.

Finally, perhaps the most telling mark of an iconic film is the memorability factor. SM has lasted, in part, because it contains so many images and lines that stick with the audience. Who can forget the armadillo groom’s cake, the Pepto-Bismol colored wedding, the locker room “color commentary,” Truvy’s shop, the cemetery scene, or lines like “that looks like an autopsy,” "all gay men have track lighting . . and are named Mark, Rick, or Steve" or “I’d rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.”

Nothing in the Ya-Ya film has entered the lexicon in the same way. To be honest, after viewing the film, the only images that really stuck with me were the flashback scenes involving Ashley Judd as the young Vivi. That is the one characterization the film replicates accurately from the novel. Judd perfectly embodies the strong, vivacious young woman whose spirit is dampened by her own mind. The novel makes it clear that Vivi’s detachment from reality proves both her greatest strength and her greatest weakness. Her childhood belief that she is destined to be famous helps her survive a harrowing home life and horrific reform school. As an adult, it contributes to her mental breakdown when her spirit can’t handle being reigned in by domesticity drudgery. These nuances are somehow lost in the film version.

While familiarity with original material can enhance the film-viewing experience, movies should be able to stand on their own. Likewise, they should not rely solely on repetition of a successful formula to assume success. Too often film studios think they can fool audiences with the “If you liked X, you’ll love Y” appeal, especially when it comes to films for women. We’re smarter than that. We know that using the same cookie cutter does not ensure the same results if the ingredients are not mixed correctly. Ya-Ya had the perfect recipe for success, but the Hollywood cooks wasted their ingredients, thinking the cutter, not the batter, created the appealing flavor. Here's hoping that, should TPTB ever try to produce Wells's works on film again, they do her creations justice this time around.

Yours in Sisterhood — VB