No Embargo Issues Here! Mr. Beaks Infiltrates THE SISTERHOOD OF THE TRAVELING PANTS 2!

The best thing about THE SISTERHOOD OF THE TRAVELING PANTS 2 being so wretchedly unwatchable is that I think I can pan it without coming off as a raging misogynist.

I've read most of the reviews for SISTERHOOD DEUX almost all of the way through, and the consensus seems to be that it is a rare and ultimately laudable achievement because it refuses to depict teenage girls as insatiable fuck machines. Since this is the kind of bar-lowering that got GANDHI a Best Picture Oscar, I feel it is my duty to take the contrary position, which is that the Sanaa Hamri-directed sequel is as spiritually nourishing as a random episode of THE FACTS OF LIFE, only not as artfully done.

Having only seen fragments of the first film on cable, I wasn't exactly hot to check out the sequel - and the involvement of music video-director Hamri, who evinced zero aptitude for feature filmmaking with the incompetently shot SOMETHING NEW, only further sapped my desire to blow two hours on an all-media screening. I was all set to blissfully miss out on the TRAVELING PANTS phenomenon for a second time until a couple of my friends decided it would be amusing to pester me into accompanying them to an opening night showing at the Mann's Chinese 6. I'm proud to say I resisted all entreaties until booze entered the equation, at which point I folded like a paper crane; I'll sit through CANNIBAL FEROX a third time if you promise to get me hammered.

I don't mean to condone animal cruelty, but I really do think I'd rather watch an anaconda consume an anteater - at no consequence to the plot! - than see three generally appealing actresses and America Ferrera get stranded with rotten material like this. Though the producers were smart enough to bring back talented screenwriter Elizabeth Chandler, they apparently set her up to fail by insisting that she conflate the action of the three subsequent novels. This results in a flurry of incident and conflict that can't possibly be adequately resolved within the already laborious two-hour run time. It also wipes out any chance for additional character development (beyond what I missed in the first film, I guess), which is a shame since I can't think of too many movies that attempt to dramatize - in a non-lascivious manner - the early twentysomething transition into womanhood. High school gets a lot of run for obvious reasons, but college is largely passed up. Perhaps my memory is failing, but I can't recall a recent film featuring anything as genuine as Scarlett Johansson's adorably uncertain dorm-room seduction of Topher Grace in Paul Weitz's IN GOOD COMPANY.

Aside from the amusing sight of Amber Tamblyn and her boyfriend (Leonard Nam) making do with a bottle of cheap red wine poured into tall plastic cups, authenticity loses out big time to cliche: artist Alexis Bledel falls for a nude model (to the abrupt strains of the Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Suck My Kiss"), Blake Lively pines for some maternal bonding (first from the whiskey-throated Shohreh Aghdashloo, then from a squandered Blythe Danner), and America Ferrera goes from lowly stage manager to Perdita in a summer stock production of THE WINTER'S TALE. I swear all three of these plot devices appeared on BEVERLY HILLS 90210.

As if taking its cue from the Nielsen ratings, Hamri and Chandler emphasize the storyline concerning UGLY BETTY'S Ferrara - which is a partial blessing in that as we get to spend more time with Kyle MacLachlan, who hams it up as a vain theater director (major missed opportunity: he shares no screen time with the daughter of Dr. Lawrence Jacoby). Unfortunately, this decision strands us with the cloyingly sweet Ferrera, whose charms have eluded me since her debut in the obnoxiously overrated REAL WOMEN HAVE CURVES. Though merely awful as the apparent "glue" of the sisterhood (i.e. she seems more obsessed with the significance of the pants than the other girls), she kicks it up into shrill incompetence when forced to be "enchanting" as the orphaned Perdita. Self-discovery thorough the performance of Shakespeare is a pet peeve of mine, and the pain is double when the actor who's allegedly excelling in the role has no grasp of iambic pentameter.

That said, the most disastrous segment of SISTERHOOD 2 deals with Lively's pointless summer at an archaeological dig in Turkey, which ends when she decides to visit her ridiculously Southern grandmama (from whom she's been shielded for reasons that never make a whole lot of sense). Danner's drawl is so overblown, they might as well have thrown in a few "I do declares" to complete the stereotype. Lively, on the other hand, looks like she's too anxious to get back to work on GOSSIP GIRL to bother bonding with her veteran costar. It's scintillating stuff.

Almost as useless is Bledel's flirtation with her buff man-subject (Jesse Williams), which coincides with her Greek boyfriend (George Papadapolis) getting caught up in some pregnancy mischief with a very hideous woman. I don't know what happened to Bledel in the years between the cancelation of GILMORE GIRLS and the shooting of SISTERHOOD 2, but "eating" was not one of them.

If the first film really is exceptional for being a smarter-than-average stab at young female empowerment, then this movie must be the laziest cash-in since WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S II. By the time the film sprints for its literally pants-less conclusion - though not in the way most of this readership would prefer it - so as to avoid an egregious 120-minute-plus run time, it's clear than Hamri and Chandler have purposely exhausted the remainder of Ann Brashares's series at the behest of the studio (and, most likely, the representation of the four leading ladies). It's an act of cruelty against the fans of the original - and it's too damn bad most of them aren't old enough to suffer through it with a two-Margarita buzz.

Faithfully submitted,

Mr. Beaks