HOW STELLA GOT HER GROOVE BACK (1998) **1/2 It's a film for the patient. The first half of it is permeated with scenes that reek of the input of demographic target focus groups comprised of overweight mall women in polyester pants lured into private screenings with the promise of latté and bon-bons. But beneath all that, and there's a lot of it is what I'm saying, the heartbeat and soul of a better film is readily detectable. For one thing, Whoopi Goldberg is always good for keeping things rolling in an amicable way at least hinting of decadence ("I wanna be a big..."). And you know that Angela Basset isn't awkward like that, you know that's just good acting because she knows what San Francisco stockbroker women have to turn into. If you make it deeper into the film, Angela and Taye Diggs raise their game for the big emotional scenes, and Regina King starts racking up points by the bushel with a comedic slant that goes upside your head, even if it goes over it. As cinematic art its greatest feature is entertainment, unless you consider the old Front Populaire goal of improving the plight of the dullards. I mean, what's for the greater good of mankind, getting even one mallwoman to make a reasonably passionate effort to permanently get her groove back, or enthralling Andy Warhol for half an hour? The thing is, and the film will tell you, getting your groove back is one thang, but keepin' it is the gold.
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