If the Chelsea tractor set ever yearned for their own version of Bicycle Thieves then praise be, here's a film that delivers in spades. I Don't Know How She Does It is a salute to the oppressed middle classes, guaranteed to strike a chord with every harried working mum who's found herself lumbered with a full-time nanny, oodles of cash, a four-storey Boston townhouse and a supportive husband with flexible working hours. What the rest of us pampered, over-privileged wretches are meant to take from this is anyone's guess, though it may well not be pretty.
Sarah Jessica Parker stars as Kate Reddy, torn between her love for her kids and her shining dream of making a fortune in the financial sector. "This pie was going to be home-made if it's the last thing I did," vows Kate as she hastens to the bake-sale. But trouble is brewing. On the one hand, Kate has promised to make a snowman at Thanksgiving. On the other, she keeps being called down for PowerPoint presentations in New York, where she is close to cutting a deal with Jack Abelhammer (Pierce Brosnan), a suave Wall Street shark. It's all too much; something's got to give. Finally Kate can take it no more. She attacks her children with a Tonka truck; blood spattering her designer dress as her hysterical spouse grabs at her arm, screaming: "Help! Help! Oh sweet Jesus, she means to kill us all."
Actually that's not what happens at all. Instead, Kate Reddy replumps her hair and presses onward in search of the life-work balance, while a gallery of supporting players line up to eulogise her and Bill Withers sings Lovely Day on the soundtrack. Doug McGrath's film is based on the best-selling book by Allison Pearson, and comes accessorised with freeze-frames, a perky voice-over and scribbled crib notes on Kate's various friends and rivals. It's bright, glossy and professionally put together, while the cast at least play it like they mean it. But it also suffers from a crucial lack of jeopardy, with a drama that is built on foundations that are shaky at best.
Are we really meant to cheer plucky Kate as she dashes off to make another killing on the markets? What would it have cost the film-makers to have given her a job that was more uncomplicatedly virtuous, less freighted with issues? At one stage Jack Abelhammer and Kate go bowling, where they fall in with a team comprised of everyday working Joes. "If you win this for us we'll forgive you for being a banker," they tell Abelhammer, who duly sends the pins flying, reforming the whole financial sector in one fell swoop. For a film ostensibly concerned with the mess and tumult of modern life, I Don't Know How She Does It presents some pretty pat solutions.
