'Maid in Manhattan' serves up recycled romance

Recycling is, we all know, a Good Thing — just ask screenwriter Kevin Wade, who apparently was so pleased with his script for the 1988 Melanie Griffith comedy "Working Girl" that he's written it again. "Maid in Manhattan," a Cinderella story so formulaic you'll be looking for a glass slipper, substitutes Jennifer Lopez as an upwardly striving hotel maid for Griffith's upwardly striving secretary, but it's virtually the same movie, minus much of the wit.

In this bleak year for romantic comedies, that may be more than enough to draw audiences — and Ralph Fiennes in full cover-boy mode, flashing his perfect smile and sky-blue eyes, may well be worth the price of admission for some of us. But make no mistake, this is Lopez's movie, and Fiennes' dreamboat politician is forced to compete for focus with J-Lo, a cute kid, a dog and a lot of wisecracking supporting characters. Director Wayne Wang's camera often seems to forget all about Fiennes, leaving him in the background like a potted plant. Would that all potted plants had such cheekbones.

Lopez, by contrast, is lovingly photographed as an angel of goodness; a soft-focus Cinderella from the Bronx named Marisa, who adores her young son (Tyler Garcia Posey), is loved by her fellow maids and deserves better than what she's got (a deadbeat ex-husband and a mother who discourages her dreams of advancement). She's tempted from perfect behavior just once — a fellow maid urges her to try on the elegant outfit rejected by a posh guest (Natasha Richardson) — and, bingo, Cupid's arrow flies.

Kevin Wade's screenplay flirts with class consciousness but never really goes anywhere; we learn that maids "strive to be invisible" and are shown, thumpingly, that Richardson's character never really looks at Marisa. Bob Hoskins, as a veteran butler/voice of wisdom, intones late in the film that "what we do does not define what we are," a squishy sentiment that's contradicted by what actually happens in the film.

So never mind the politics — "Maid in Manhattan" is simply a synthetic fairy tale with little chemistry, and an excuse to squeeze Lopez into a strapless pink number that resembles the gown she wore to the Oscars in real life this year. Wang has assembled a nice cast (Amy Sedaris, in particular, steals scenes as Richardson's snobbish pal) but doesn't keep much of a rein on them. Richardson flounders; she's got a mini-breakdown scene that's supposed to be funny but comes off as embarrassing.

In the end, Lopez and Fiennes kiss in front of a painted backdrop of Manhattan — a setting as artificial as the movie itself. Can Sandra Bullock and Hugh Grant, appearing next week in "Two Weeks Notice," singlehandedly revive the dying Hollywood romantic-comedy machine? Hope springs eternal.

Moira Macdonald: 206-464-2725 or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com.