I was looking forward to swearing off all men for the next 114 minutes of my life. No, I wasn’t testing the waters of becoming a lesbian. I was going to see “The Women.”

This movie is a remake of the 1930s film directed by George Cukor as well as the play by Clare Booth Luce. Although the three share an intriguing theme of a male-free cast, the remake fails miserably in achieving a classic status like the other two.

The humor in the dramedy, directed by Diane English (“Murphy Brown”), lacks wit, the plotline is predictable and the script is forced and almost painful for the audience to endure. You’d think nothing could go wrong with the all-star cast of Meg Ryan (“In the Land of Women”), Annette Bening (“Running With Scissors”), Debra Messing (“Will & Grace”) and Jada Pinkett Smith (“Madagascar”), but watching Ryan act is like watching trashy public displays of affection — it’s so bad you actually become embarrassed for the parties involved.

Ryan takes on the role of Mary Haines, the multi-tasking, urban wife transplanted in the suburbs who takes on too many projects at once, which include hosting luncheons and designing fashion sketches for, of course, her father’s company. Her husband’s affair with “the spritzer girl” at Saks Fifth Avenue, Eva Mendes (“Hitch”), fuels the plot line of the movie and creates the central conflict. Bening plays Sylvie, a successful and highly paid magazine editor who constantly questions the fate of her career and hopes her male publisher will not dump her for someone better and younger. Messing is Edie, a woman who plans on popping babies out until she reaches her dream of birthing a boy. And finally comes Alex, “the lesbian,” played by Pinkett Smith, who says the disgusting habits of males forced her to switch teams.

Despite the sheer volume of estrogen on the set, the movie’s plot is driven by the unmistakable shadows of men that serve to influence and taint the lives of Ryan and this circle of girlfriends. Subsequently, English’s interpretation contradicts the feministic independence portrayed through the high-powered careers and social status of the women by placing the influence of the non-existent — yet, ultimately dominant — males in the spotlight.

Putting the director’s messages aside, let’s shift our focus to the casting director. The cast is actually very culturally diverse, but for every time the casting department hit a home run (Messing and Bening), the team also miserably failed (Ryan).

Perhaps what casting clung to was the idea that they were going to get the cute, blonde, America’s sweetheart version of Ryan, not the disaster she later presented to audiences in “In the Land of Women.” When her acting was memorable in a positive way, it was I’ll-have-what-she’s-having good. But when she became a joke, it was kissing-your-daughter’s-boyfriend bad.

It is extremely difficult to pinpoint the motives behind choosing the schizophrenic Ryan for the leading role. The movie drags on forever thanks to her feeble attempts at acting. The more Ryan cocked her frazzled head of hair sideways and squinted her eyes, the more pissed off I got. I lost count of how many times she forced herself to tear up, exhale dramatically, toss her hands up and contort her over-Botoxed face.

Again, however, I will give those in charge the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps English was trying to play up the current stereotypes of women who spend too much time worrying about their appearance or those who become power-hungry to the point of self-destruction. Whatever English was trying to convey, there is no excuse for the unrealistic stretch seen in Mary’s daughter, Molly, played by India Ennenga (“Frost”).

The random scene between Bening and Ennenga, who appears to be 8 years old, about sex and anorexia definitely did not fit. The 8-year-old with teased hair? Fine. The make-up? Fine. Rebellious attitude as a result of her parent’s divorce? Fine. But when an 80-pound girl whips out a pack of cigarettes and talks about how fat she is, it’s a bit much. And to top it all off, the girl gets over her bad attitude three minutes later in the next scene when she returns wearing a sweater with dogs on it.

After intense moping and living a quiet life of yoga and desperation, Ryan, predictably, pulls her life back together. The cheesy, girl-power music blasts as Ryan (literally) puts together a collage of inspiration, throws together a fashion show and accepts love after she receives roses from her almost ex-husband who wants her back.

I knew I should have pre-gamed when I walked out thinking the best part of the movie was when the little girl who plays Mary’s daughter sat in her backyard making a fire out of burning tampons. Sadly, the rest of “The Women” doesn’t measure up to this moment, and Ryan’s latest venture into rom-com territory only highlights her inability to feign genuine emotion.

1 star out of 5