Opens March 3, 2000

If you're a fan of Rupert Everett, you won't be disappointed with his performance in The Next Best Thing. Recalling his comic turn in My Best Friend's Wedding, he plays a similarly buoyant role as the friend of a loveless tough cookie. Here's where the movie falls apart though. The lovelorn one isn't Julia Roberts this time, it's uber-icon Madonna. And, as you may also know, Madonna, gossamer singing voice notwithstanding, just can't act.

It's not really her fault. She's quite earnest in her role as yoga instructor Abbie, who is a real chump when it comes to relationships. In fact, her most recent lover Kevin (Michael Vartin) has just decided to walk out on her because he doesn't want true love, he wants a bimbo who's content to roll in the hay. A lot of women will recognize Abbie's woes when it comes to men and, at least up to this point in the film, writer Thomas Ropelewski makes some solid points about modern womanhood. It's clear to us and to Abbie that she's no longer a "young woman". Her biological clock is ticking and she feels, as she laments to Robert (Everett), that Kevin was her "last chance."

Abbie's life would be perfect if she were an item with Robert, her best friend in the world, but genetics has played a cruel trick on her. Robert is gay. Ironically, this doesn't stop them from having sex after a night of drunken celebration on July 4th. Soon after, Abbie discovers she's pregnant and, after some deliberation Robert and she decide to move in together and raise the child Sam (Malcolm Stumpf) like a "real" family -- sexuality and society be damned. Life gets even trickier when Abbie falls for investment banker Ben (Benjamin Bratt), who only serves to muddy the waters.

Now, there are a lot of troubling elements to this supposedly provocative premise. For starters, it's somewhat disconcerting that the only way writer Ropelewski could get to the pregnancy was for his straight heroine and gay hero to get drunk. It somehow cheapens the event, making it a convenient "accident". More uncomfortable still is that their sexual escapade comes on the heels of a funeral in which one of their friends has died of AIDS. Later issues only serve to complicate matters, especially when Ben and Abbie's relationship threatens Robert's fatherhood and he becomes almost cruel in his resolve to keep Sam.

Somehow, writer Ropelewski doesn't seem to have really taken the time to consider these issues, glossing over them and hoping the audience will too. His plan backfires though, resulting in a script that is much too plot-heavy while lacking the logic for the events that transpire. Of course, there are other issues to contend with as well. Madonna for instance, who is either trying to mimic Everett's British accent or has taken ill-advised elocution lessons. Some of what should be her most touching moments are sure to cause cringing; she's just trying too hard to be "an actress." Some advice: Stop emoting, darling, and just do it.

Rest assured, however, that Rupert Everett does everything in his power to elevate the material. Here is an actor so clearly in control of his craft that he delights us with the simplest actions and lures us in with the range of emotion he experiences. In many ways, it is his movie for it is indeed his character who has the most depth, the most conflict and the most originality. In a recent interview, Everett jokingly claimed that it's difficult being a sex symbol to both sexes; in this film, his comment hits home.

Everett's presence though isn't enough to save The Next Best Thing from coming off as a politically correct melodrama about "modern" family values. The issues here are explosive and timely ones, very much worthy of exploration. Yet, they are trivialized on many levels because of the predictable story line and eclipsed by Madonna's awkward presence. The final word: See it for Rupert and try to ignore the Virgin.