New York Minute review

With their saucer eyes and lithe, lanky bodies, Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen have morphed from plastic moppets into strangely compelling women. They're a bizarre mirror-image spectacle that merits David Lynch's eye, but they instead get a tweener fantasy romp too threadbare for one Olsen, let alone two.

Straitlaced Jane and punker Roxy skip school, evade a truant officer (Eugene Levy, phone in one hand, cheque in the other) and chase their disparate dreams of Ivy League scholarship and rock stardom. No prizes for guessing if they'll fulfill them - even if the action is all set during one manic day in Manhattan.

Given the twins' pre-pubescent fanbase, it's odd that director Dennie Gordon overstuffs the action with underclad Olsens, the girls' sexy outfits sure to mean kiddies will be viewing a fair part of the movie through parents' fingers. Odd, too, that limo driver Andy Richter is allowed to adopt a stereotypical Asian accent that's sure to offend. Talk about puncturing the harmless, feelgood vibe.


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