2002, PG-13, 114 minutes

With all of the praise this film has received from certain critics groups, not to mention a Golden Globe award, I must admit I am shocked at how disappointing and dull it actually is. This is what you people were raving about? Apparently what I saw was a different cut, because The Hours that I sat through was a tedious and annoying non-story that seems to have completely forgotten the women's liberation movement ever took place.

My dislike for this film has nothing to do with the fact that I'm not a woman; even if I were, I would still be rolling my eyes at the absurdity of placing characters on a pedestal merely for being women and for no other reason whatsoever. Based on the award-winning novel by Michael Cunningham, this story takes what was once a fight for opportunity and wider horizons and transforms it into a moral get out of jail free card. Oh, we're women and we're so oppressed - isn't that sad? Men have it so easy when they go off to work, while we're stuck at home buying flowers or raising our children, living pointless, insignificant lives. If only I were a man and could get the satisfaction of sending office memos and holding meetings about the appropriate attire to wear on casual Friday.

Virginia Woolf drowned herself in a river, while The Hours drowns itself in a pool of its own feminine propaganda. I wouldn't have a problem with the film had it been made in the 1950's, but those days are long over and the idea of anyone dwelling over the same old complaints and double standards is more irritating than insightful. I realize the film is about more than this, but it doesn't really say anything worthwhile. Yes, the story is divided into thirds and two of them take place in the past, but what really bothers me is the attempt to connect these women to a contemporary woman (played by Meryl Streep), as if they were equally constrained.

Aside from my ultimate dislike of the story, another reason I found The Hours to be so off-putting is its general lack of life. Everyone looks and feels as if they're sleepwalking, which may have been intentional, but it doesn't make for a very good movie. Looking back, I can't think of a single scene that is truly memorable or worthwhile. I'm not implying that the performances are bad - Julianne Moore is particularly good as the unsettled and depressed 50's housewife, and Nicole Kidman and her fake nose make a good team - it's merely that their entire world comes off as staged and artificial. The one exception to this dullness is Claire Danes as the daughter of Streep's character; the second she enters the film it seems to light up with authenticity and life, providing a ray of hope in an otherwise pointless movie.

I have a general rule about movies: if you're going to depress us, do it for a good reason. Unfortunately, The Hours is so caught up and in love with the suffering of its little princesses that it never bothers to really make us care. Virginia Woolf once wrote that "every woman needs a room of her own," but I think she'd be insulted to see her concept being applied in a society where women now have a heck of a lot more than just a room.