What have we done to deserve this treacly, badly-acted nonsense? Whose children have we run over in a previous life? The original novel by Rebecca Wells became a landmark in the history of word-of-mouth marketing when Malcolm Gladwell's book The Tipping Point identified women's reading groups as the force which ignited its giant bestsellerdom. But no force can cancel the cloying ghastliness of this film version, a choked-up generational drama about comfortably-off American women, in the manner of How to Make an American Quilt.

It boasts two of Hollywood's most irritating and self-satisfied performers: Sandra Bullock and Ashley Judd. Bullock is Sidda, a modern woman who has issues with her mother Vivi, a boozy southern belle played by an under-par Ellen Burstyn. But Sidda's eyes are opened to the tremendous pain her momma went through, by Vivi's secret sisterhood of friends: now allegedly adorable sassy old gals. Young Vivi is played by Ashley Judd, who goes into a very embarrassing Blanche DuBois mad act. All the emotions, and certainly all the accents, are as phoney as a three-dollar bill.