Review: Bratz: The Movie

Based on a whorish line of girls' dolls, this movie is only slightly less offensive than its namesake. For one thing, what is it with Jon Voight and toy spin-offs? First he pops up as Donald Rumsfeld in Transformers, and here he plays a high-school principal who's a clueless puppet of his Clueless daughter. This self-absorbed blond princess (with a pooch named Paris) somehow forces the student body into cliques, threatening the precious friendship of our four teenage heroines, whose names I cannot remember, and who are so perfectly diverse that one of them has an abuela she calls "Bubbie." The movie has a bizarre notion of high school as Orwellian dictatorship, complete with "Obey" signs, when of course we know public schools are governed just like our country: incompetently. And just what is so awful or unnatural about socializing with your group, be they jocks, nerds, goths, or dinosaur enthusiasts? (Actually, I don't remember the Jurassic clan at my school, but I guess the screenwriters had to pad out the roster.) The whole thing suggests a lobotomized Hairspray, where the tolerant good girls and the evil bitch come straight from the same fabulous catalog. The Valley Girl lesson is that shopping brings us together, with an emphasis on Skechers shoes. The girls even get to sex it up for a few MTV-style musical numbers, suggesting Moulin Rouge for children, except no one dies of tuberculosis. When I walked out during the end credits, Voight was spying on our triumphant heroines through binoculars, making me feel even dirtier than when I sheepishly approached the box office and requested, "One for Bratz, please."

Bratz: The Movie is rated PG and opens today at Lloyd Mall, Cornelius, Division Street, Movies on TV, Eastport, and Bridgeport Village.