Lest we forget what it is to be a woman, there's always the chick flick to remind us exactly what this may imply. In the case of "Evening," the implying rather has the effect of a tidal wave. There they are, all the usual suspects: love (unrequited and otherwise), weddings, marriages, careers, motherhood, sisterhood.
"Evening" tastefully portrays these issues and does it up in a pristine package with a brittle edge here and there, no doubt to stress the elements of tragedy and disappointment that inevitably occur in a woman's life. Oh man! Or should that be oh woman!? In any case, "Evening" is so formulaic as to border on presumptuousness. Surely women have preoccupations besides these tried and true themes. Surely they can talk of things other than personal happiness and men.
"Evening's" screenplay was penned by novelist Susan Minot, whose works about modern women and their desires (she is best known for a collection of short stories called "Lust") strike a fine balance between aggression and insecurity, demure inhibition and seductive audacity. The stinging subtlety of her prose, however, fails to translate to the screen. So much of "Evening" is a confused (albeit pretty) collage of fragments of emotion, moments of passion and teary outbursts that leave no marks.