Postponed for six months of tinkering after lackluster screenings at last fall’s Toronto Film Festival, “Cowgirls” stars Uma Thurman as Sissy, the proud possessor of thumbs the size of Hebrew National kosher hot dogs. Though the director’s sensibility worked extraordinarily well when applied to hard-edged subject matter like “Drugstore Cowboy” and even “My Own Private Idaho,” combining it with Robbins’ flimsy jokiness has resulted in a film whose tedium is painful. And even if Robbins’ book could possibly have been made into a successful picture, getting Van Sant to do it, the ideal hipster-meets-hipster combination though it must have seemed at the time, has turned out to be a recipe for a fiasco.įor what Robbins’ smug whimsy doesn’t need is a dose of Van Sant’s deadpan aesthetic of knowing, way hip boredom.
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