`Coyote Ugly': women, liquor and a whole bar full of cliches

Movie review

X 1/2 "Coyote Ugly," with Piper Perabo, Adam Garcia, Maria Bello, Bridget Moynahan, John Goodman. Directed by David McNally, from a script by Gina Wendkos. 94 minutes. Several theaters. "PG-13" - Parents cautioned because of violence, profanity and dirty dancing.

Wouldn't it be great to sit in on Hollywood story meetings, to get to hear how they come up with some of the movies they actually make? Take "Coyote Ugly," for instance.

Writer: "It's a movie about hot girls, trying to make it in this crazy world by dancing on a bar, kind of like `Cocktail' meets `Showgirls,' with a touch of `Flashdance' thrown in."

Producer: "Brilliant. Sign John Goodman and it's a go."

Maybe they were drunk. "Coyote Ugly" is so filled with movie cliches and focus-group-tested ideas that it's hard to believe it happened any other way. It takes scantily clad women, mixes them with a whole lot of liquor, and throws in a small-town girl trying to make it big, her tough-luck boyfriend, a hard-fisted but soft-hearted boss and a blue-collar dad who loves his daughter but can't show it. It puts them in a blender and hopes (in vain, it turns out) for a hit.

The small-town girl is Violet Sanford (Perabo), who leaves her widowed father and soon-to-be-married best friend to follow her dream. She's the next Mariah Carey, only no one knows it yet.

After a series of humorous put-downs from agents and record labels, Violet stumbles on a pack of coyotes, bartenders at a wild bar that specializes in loud music, sloppy drinks and tiny leather outfits. There's a spot open because the character played by model Tyra Banks, in the year's least believable career move, is going to law school. Sweet, innocent Violet joins the pack.

"Coyote Ugly" takes its title from an old joke about a one-night stand so bad, you'd rather chew off your arm than lie in bed with the person you slept with.

It's also the name of an actual bar in New York that on paper resembles the one in the movie. In real life, it's a little seedy, a place where the barmaids aren't afraid to light a bar on fire or tear a cell phone from a yuppie's hand and scream luridly at his girlfriend back home. The beer is cheap and so are the customers.

Here, in the movies, everything's beautifully choreographed, with bar dancing so perfect it's not surprising to read in the credits that each actress has a dance double. And to show why we're really here, the camera lingers on the long legs and taut torsos of our heroines, prompting groans from a few males in the audience. Get a room!

As in all great American movies, this one is about the transformation of character. Violet goes from quiet and innocent to bumping and grinding so fast she wonders who she really is. There's a climax of some sort, but it's hard to tell what it is with all the shots of push-up bras and tight shorts in the way. The boyfriend (Garcia) gets angry; Dad, a toll-booth collector (a metaphor?) played by Goodman, gets hit by a car; the best friend shows up in her wedding gown. We're moving toward something, right?

By this point, Violet has found herself again and lands a gig singing a song so terrible LeAnn Rimes decides to record it. Everything comes together when Goodman, who must be in this movie because of a lost bet, gets on the bar and starts wiggling.

And then it ends, mercifully. It was almost necessary to begin gnawing through a limb.