Familiar "Helen" Surprises with Smiles

But the blonde party girl isn’t exactly known for her maternal instincts, and having teenager Audrey (Hayden Panettiere, “Remember the Titans”), pre-teen Henry (Spencer Breslin, “The Cat in the Hat”) and kindergartner Sarah (Abigail Breslin, “Signs”) thrown into her world isn’t exactly soothing. In no short order the stiletto wearing Manhattan-ite finds herself moving to Queens, dealing with nose boogies and losing her high-profile job as an Executive Assistant in one of New York’s premier modeling agencies. Worst of all, she’s terrified of getting on the kid’s bad side, letting them – especially the free-spirited and ready for exploration Audrey – get away with almost anything.

Of course, not everything is going badly. The wound of losing her job becomes a distant memory as the realization of how much she dearly loves the three children slowly sneaks up on her, while a seductively sexy romance with the pastor and principal (John Corbett, “Serendipity”) of the kids Lutheran private school certainly doesn’t hurt. Soon, Helen begins to suspect there just might be more to the world than Prada handbags and perfectly defined cheekbones, the once out-all-night enchantress more than happy to succumb to a life of sneakers, basketball games and school plays. But when her old life knocks on her door with the promise of better pay, luxurious travel and unending perks, will she turn her back on the children she loves to fulfill her own selfish goals?

If the plot of director Gary Marshall’s (“Pretty Woman”) latest fairy tale “Raising Helen” sounds so sugary sweet to be cavity causing you’re right, it is. This is a Lifetime movie-of-the-week masquerading as a feature-length motion picture, a flick so paint-by-numbers you’re almost positive Barbara Stanwyck or Deborah Kerr are going to pop up any moment and take over. It’s cliché ridden and silly, too long by half and full of deathly dull moments of treacle so leaden Pennsylvania Steelworkers could almost melt the film down for scrap.

But darn it all if “Raising Helen” doesn’t connect. Marshall and screenwriters Jack Amiel and Michael Begler (“The Prince and Me”) – working from a story by Patrick J. Clifton and Beth Rigazio – manage just enough affecting moments to somewhat thaw my heart towards the picture. Granted, it helps that they’ve put together an amazingly solid cast, each going through their respective paces with a guileless ease even if in some cases – especially Huffman and the wondrous Helen Mirren (“Calendar Girls”) – they are so clearly slumming.

For the first time since her Oscar-nominated turn in “Almost Famous,” the intoxicatingly effervescent Hudson reminded me why I fell so maddeningly in love with her in the first place. She’s a perfect Helen, and even if the role is clearly beneath her talents she still manages to make something memorable out of it. In her best moments, such as when she lands a job as the receptionist of Queens used car lot, she effortlessly combines elements of longing, regret and charm together to create an impression so indelible the actress glows. Hudson is so good I’m almost tempted to forgive her for the double whammy of mediocrity “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days” and “Alex & Emma.” Almost.

Even better is Cusack. Whenever Marshall unshackles the reigns and lets this gifted dynamo roar, “Raising Helen” thunders to ferocious life with Cusack painting a picture of caring motherhood that’s so startlingly accurate I felt the need to call my own mother just to say hello. All the best moments are hers. At one point the actress is called upon to go from sisterly warmth to motherly fury in a matter of seconds, bursting in upon an after-prom scene every parent dreads but only a few have the courage to deal with. It is a magical moment, raising the picture to a whole new level.

Of course, there is no way “Raising Helen” can stay there. The romance between Hudson and Corbett (whose essentially phoning in his “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” performance) is leaden, and like most comedic dramas out of Hollywood today the filmmakers have no idea when to end their picture. This one goes on and on well after its run out of ideas, flat-lining into a final so forgone a telephone psychic could have called it.