Cheri

Michelle Pfeiffer and Kathy Bates are aging courtesans who maintain a relationship through necessity rather than genuine friendship. Bates asks Pfeiffer to take care of her nineteen years old son, Rupert Friend, who Pfeiffer nicknamed Cheri as a child. Pfeiffer takes on the role with gusto in the way that she knows best for the next six years with the approval of Bates until it becomes time for Friend to move on to an arranged marriage. That's when the proverbial hits the fan.

Cheri is based on two stories by Colette but as with Rhett Butler in Gone With The Wind, I didn't give a damn. The story belongs to a bygone era and whilst everyone dresses beautifully, lives lavishly and indolently...so what?

Pfeiffer stands out as the beauty amongst a group of oddballs whose sexual attraction must have been an acquired taste and whilst Friend has his admirers, his anaemic looks did little for me although he proved a fetching image in naked silhouette.

There was the occasional tart line of dialogue to provide a lift but otherwise this oddly lit movie - most scenes are filmed in dark or subdued lighting - was much ado about nothing for me.