Heartbreakers [2001]

Maxine Connors (Sigourney Weaver) and daughter Paige (Jennifer Love Hewitt) are a successful con-artist double act. Scheming mom Maxine lures rich men to the altar only to set up a seduction via her daughter that guarantees a hefty divorce settlement a little time later. Some debts to clear, Maxine fixes well-intentioned billionaire William Tensy (Gene Hackman) in her sights, which Paige insists will be her last job. Complications ensue when Paige falls in love for real with a lowly bartender (Jason Lee) and washes her hands of the project, forcing Maxine to somehow deal with this sticky situation and come to terms with her daughter’s real emotional agenda.
Heartbreakers wants to be a distaff variation of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, compensating for lack of intelligence with ample cleavage provided by Sigourney Weaver and Jennifer Love Hewitt. This alone should draw plenty of drooling guys who will enjoy the scenery and affirm the movie’s depiction of men as lecherous idiots. And what scenery it is! Dressed up in trampy glamour, Weaver and Hewitt play mother-and-daughter grifters with a devious routine: Max (Weaver) lures wealthy cads into marriage, and then daughter Page (Hewitt) seduces them, so mom can discover the infidelity and fleece the chump in divorce court. They’ve just scammed the boss of a hot-car ring (Ray Liotta) and now it’s on to Palm Beach, Florida, where they’ll dupe a wheezing tobacco baron (Gene Hackman) and retire to the good life. Or so they think…
Armed with the same air headed humour he brought to Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion, director David Mirkin relies on the clichéd notion that sex turns all men into morons–a conceit that would have worked if the dialogue and sitcom antics were more convincing. Additional plot twists–not to mention Hewitt’s microskirts and Wonderbras–may hold your attention, but you may find yourself harking back to Steve Martin, Michael Caine, and those happier high jinks on the French Riviera. –Jeff Shannon, store