Director:David Mirkin
Writers:Robert Dunn, Paul Guay, Stephen Mazur
MGM; PG-13; 120 minutes
Cast:Sigourney Weaver, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Ray Liotta, Gene Hackman

Max Conners (Sigourney Weaver) and her nubile daughter Page (Jennifer Love Hewitt) understand the power of the verbs “oogle” and “grope,” with specific regards to the male members of our species. Mom seduces a rich old lug into marriage. Immediately after the knot is tied, Daughter lures him into bed. This allows Mom to stumble in on them and emerge with a generous settlement.Heartbreakers isn't exactly about broken hearts, but you get the picture.

Ray Liotta enters the film as one of their first victims. He later returns to add dramatic complication to the mother and daughter's prize catch: a phlegmatic tobacco billionaire coughed up by Gene Hackman. In an unusual move, the story tries to weave in a subplot about Page's yearning for independence as she travels with her overprotective mom—the same woman that encourages Page's sex fraud of men three times her age. It's an oddly sentimental moment for a relatively moral-free film, and it simply doesn't make sense. The most wholesome person in the film is a bartender named Jack (Jason Lee), Page's sincere love interest.

Weaver knows how to vamp. Her knack for comedy complements the steely Ripley roles she tends to play. Hewitt's acting abilities are outweighed by her more material assets, which the camera and costumer capitalize on greedily. What Weaver called “dresses the size of postage stamps” are particularly important to Page's screen presence. Many viewers will feel as gypped as the men these heartbreakers attack.

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