Originally, The Stepford Wives, a 1975 film adaptation of a novel with the same name, was billed as feminist horror. It made sense — the story, while rife with sci-fi elements, was a tale as old as time: the subjugation of women through societal standards. When Joanna (Katharine Ross) moves with her family to the suburb of Stepford, Connecticut, she soon finds out that the women of the town are strangely "perfect." All they care about is housework and their husbands. Then — spoilers for a '70s movie — it's revealed that the women aren't human at all. The real wives have all been killed and replaced with mechanized "Stepford Wives," complete with black, soulless eyes. It's not exactly the kind of film that screams comedy. But, in 2004, that's precisely the direction that The Stepford Wives remake took. Directed by Frank Oz, of The Muppets fame, the new version leaves much to be desired. Attention to visual detail seems to have taken priority, leaving the script in the dust. ("An actual bake sale! It's like some sort of heavenly diorama in the Smithsonian in the Hall of Homemakers!"). But there are a bright spots in the movie: Namely, Christopher Walken and Glenn Close. Playing the villains, they're having a great time. And together, they're anything but robotic.

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'The Stepford Wives' Has a Feminist Message — Or Does It?

The Stepford wives smiling in brightly colored dresses in The Stepford Wives (2004)
Image via Paramount

You might expect, from The Stepford Wives' subject matter, that it was written by a woman. In actuality, the 1972 novel was written by a male author by the name of Ira Levin, whose name may sound familiar because he also wrote a little story called Rosemary's Baby. The Stepford Wives was labeled as satirical and in the feminist lens, which is debatable. While the idea of husbands literally replacing their wives with unthinking machines is certainly topical, one does wonder if Joanna's unsuccessful attempt to free herself is very empowering. (At the end of the novel, Ruthanne, one of the town's first Black residents, is poised to be replaced next.) This isn't, of course, to say that the book isn't critical of the society it satirizes. It is by nature. It is also true, though, that several prominent feminists at the time criticized the adaptation for not digging deep enough into the issues it raised. Betty Friedan, a writer and activist, even stormed out of the screening. She considered it to be a "rip-off" of the women's liberation movement.

These issues are magnified in the 2004 version — additional comedy dulls the edge of the movie's messages, and Oz's signature aesthetic threatens to become the focal point. Originally, the movie was intended to be much darker in mood, which would likely have contrasted well with the movie's bright color palette. But considering Oz directed 1986's Little Shop of Horrors, which also had its "sad" ending changed by the studio, he should have been no stranger to adjusting the tone. Any number of reasons could be assigned to its failure, from tension on set to an extravagant budget. (Oz later told Ain't it Cool that he had "too much money," which blinded him to his instincts. "I love being subversive and dangerous, and I wasn't," Oz said.) It's safe to say things didn't pan out as well as they could have. Thankfully, movies don't have to be critically acclaimed to be entertaining — and this one definitely is.

Glenn Close Is an Eerily Perfect Matriarch in Frank Oz's 'The Stepford Wives'

Claire (Glenn Close) smiling as brightly dressed Stepford women clean the room in The Stepford Wives (2004)
Image via Paramount

Frank Oz's campy distinctive visual style is on display from the opening credits of The Stepford Wives. Saturated footage of old kitchen appliance commercials slowly set the scene: This is a world stuck in the '50s, a world where women are still expected to be in the kitchen. In other words, the opposite of how Joanna Eberhart (Nicole Kidman) lives. A high-powered TV producer of reality shows that explore gender dynamics, she loses her job and has a "complete nervous collapse," prompting her cheery husband Walter (Matthew Broderick) to move their family to the suburbs. There, things begin to take a strange turn. It's just all too buttoned up. Church steeples and immaculately organized grocery shelves, puffy dresses, and spotless kitchens are all presided over by the town's realtor, Claire Wellington (Close). In her vintage dresses, with her flippy bob, Close looks like something out of a Coronet propaganda film. She acts like it, too — when she meets the couple's daughter, she quickly proclaims her "sassy and a little sad." Close simply falls into the role, smiling just a bit too wide as she demonstrates their new house's electronic capabilities. (It can test your urine for fat, apparently, and comes with a robot dog.) As the matriarch of the neighborhood, she gleefully leads the other perfect wives through meaningless activities like"Clairobics," which involve pretending to do laundry. Of course, as a parody of WASP-y femininity, Claire wouldn't be complete without her husband.

Glenn Close and Christopher Walken Are the Perfect Stepford Couple

Christopher Walken and Glenn Close as Mike and Claire Wellington in The Stepford Wives (2004)
Image via Paramount

As it turns out, Claire's husband is almost the same person she is. Mike Wellington (Walken) is a slimy manipulator, the ringleader of the chauvinistic Stepford men. Somehow, it's totally believable that Close and Walken's characters would be together— they're both hiding a sort of strained desperation for perfection, and it isn't even the first time they've played on-screen spouses! (See 1991's Sarah, Plain and Tall.) Walken is a smooth operator. He has the town in his fist, taking away broken wives when they malfunction and convincing new residents to motorize their loved ones. Close and Walken are both blond here, twin smiles unsettling under their perfectly coifed hair. Claire is controlling and unhinged, making Bobbie (Bette Midler, in a sorely under-utilized role) uncomfortable.

Mike, on the other hand, is subdued and commanding, getting under Walter's skin. Sitting in the men's club, he's a spider in his web, his eyes hungry. It's easy to see things going the same route as the original. In this version, however, there's a bit of a twist: Not only are the women not robots (instead, they have chips in their brains), it turns out that the real mastermind is Claire! It's all revealed when Mike's head is unceremoniously lopped off with a candlestick — Claire, a brilliant brain surgeon-slash-geneticist, made her own robo-husband to offset her career burnout — and crafting a dystopian patriarchy in the process. That "in sickness and in health" vow must have been serious, because, after a long and wonderfully unhinged monologue, Claire finally kisses Mike's detached head. She cartoonishly electrocutes herself, and cements the couple's status as legendary evil lovers. Though Oz's take on The Stepford Wives fell flat, it's worth a watch for Close and Walken. Even a robot couldn't replicate that chemistry.