Prêt-à-Porter (1994) - film review

World class couturiers, models and journalists converge on Paris to play their part in France’s pret-à-porter fashion show.  Behind the surface gloss and razzmatazz, numerous intrigues are on the go.  Sergei returns from his exile in Russia to try to rekindle old flames with his former lover, Isabella – who is now married to senior fashion executive Olivier de la Fontaine.  When the latter chokes to death on a sandwich, Sergei goes on the run, fearing he will be charged with murder.  Meanwhile, top fashion designer Simone Lowenthal is becoming disillusioned with her industry and plans to mount a spectacular coup on the catwalks...

Prêt-à-Porter, arguably Robert Altman’s least worthy cinematic achievement, proves the age-old adage that a great cast and loads of money does not necessarily a great film make. Despite a truly prestigious international cast, this is a film which just fails to sparkle and, at well over two hours in length, it is something of a chore to sit through.  There are some great moments in the film, but these are simply overwhelmed by the amount of material (much of it mediocre padding) crammed into it.  Surprisingly for an Altman film, some of the attempts at humour are very feeble, often resorting to puerile jokes (such as the recurring "oh so funny" dog poo gag).   A generally flat and uninspired work, Prêt-à-Porter, appears to have little intelligent to say about the fashion industry, and what it does say is painfully superficial, resorting wherever possible to the obvious (and rather silly) stereotypes.

© James Travers 2003

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