Review of The Cemetery Club

Three lady-friends, Jewish widows in their 60s, grieve together, laugh together, attend weddings and funerals together--but when one of the gals thinks she's found a decent man, the other two interfere out of jealousy or fear (or maybe a bit of both). Screenwriter Ivan Menchell, adapting his play, delivers a collection of lightly dramatic and comedic episodes which result in a half-hearted sitcom--a Jewish "Golden Girls"--and nobody involved with the picture looks as though they had great hopes for it. Possibly hoping to target the "Moonstruck" crowd, director Bill Duke plays on our nostalgic feelings for a cast of familiar faces, warmly sentimental music on the soundtrack, and antiquated comic shtick which may strike some TV viewers as funny (it's The Rerun Club). For a few brief moments, Ellen Burstyn and Danny Aiello create a nice romantic rapport, but her introduction to him (fighting with a groundskeeper and being bitten in the leg!) is a gag that even Mel Brooks might have passed on. Menchell is awfully fond of meet-cutes and warmly bitchy put-downs, and Burstyn has to struggle to carve out an interesting character (it doesn't help that she's weighed down with wigs and scarves and jackets). With its teary-eyed laughter and fake Jewish come-on, the movie appears to be a total fraud; however, there was the germ of a good idea here, particularly with Aiello's cab-driver (he's actually more interesting than the women). Diane Ladd and Olympia Dukakis are certainly capable, but Duke's inconsistent rhythm and indecisive narrative puts a wall around these people--we don't even know for sure if these are likable people, so generic is the writing and handling. ** from ****