Sometimes Hollywood strikes with a logic all its own. Albert Brooks plays Steven Phillips (Brooks), a screenwriter who has lost his touch. Panicked and desperate after a smarmy young executive (Feuerstein) suggests a career change, he turns to Sarah (Sharon Stone), an alleged descendent of Zeus whose muse-dom has kept some of Tinseltown's favorite players afloat (James Cameron, Rob Reiner, and Martin Scorsese make cameos). But the movie itself is uninspired.
Brooks' trademark wry wit surrenders to predictable cliche. The weakest link in The Muse's chain is the muse herself, Sharon Stone. She flounces histrionics, demanding the instant satisfaction of her every shallow whim in return for her muse services. Her character is scene-stealing and disastrous, Greek comedy slumping to tragedy.
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