Is it wrong that I wish a Macbeth-like curse fall upon those who've undertaken to remake The Women, smite them mercilessly for not understanding the difference between a cute story ready for a remake and grinding up a Rembrandt for mulch? No, it is not wrong. May Mary Boland and Joan Crawford, and Rosalind Russell too, rise from the grave and snatch them all bald-headed, especially Meg Ryan. Ptew. Curses. I'd call it the Jungle Red Curse except I don't wanna be cute, they don't deserve it.