Word: eastwicks
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...dark side of E.T.: in Empire of the Sun a boy goes to war, and nearly goes mad. Even the comedies are cynical. The Secret of My Success got Michael J. Fox into bed with his uncle's wife to help advance his career. The Witches of Eastwick sent Satan to defeat at the caressing hands of three ravishing feminists. This week's predictable hit, Throw Momma from the Train, is a jolly farce about matricide...
Hollywood is happy again. A lot of summer films are making big money; each June weekend brought a new box-office champ. Beverly Hills Cop II, then Predator, then The Witches of Eastwick, then Dragnet. Half a dozen other films are silly-season successes. And so the industry, even as it fretted about a strike threatened by the Directors Guild, entered July with high hopes for the best summer since Ghostbusters, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom and Gremlins made the wickets blister...
Andrew Wyeth might summer there. Bob Newhart could run the colonial inn. Eastwick -- it looks like a travel poster for the New England dream. It surely boasts a trio of dream girls: Alexandra (Cher), who sculpts clay Earth Mothers; Jane (Susan Sarandon), who cues the school band with a hearty "Horns up!"; and Sukie (Michelle Pfeiffer), abustle with her six kids. All are displaced, not quite fulfilled by their evenings together swapping naughty secrets. And when this comely sorority is restless, Eastwick suffers, with plagues of sudden storms and cherry pits. The women are witches, you see. And now they...
Daryl Van Horne (Jack Nicholson), a newcomer to Eastwick, is everything the women crave, fear, pity, hate. He is, in other words, a man. In public, he snores like a boar. His jokes smell, and he does too. He is, he admits with the grin of a baby Hitler, "just your average horny little devil." With a capital D. Big Bad Beelzebub. But devilry in New England is not what it used to be. Women suspected of having sex with Satan are not burned at the stake; they are snubbed in the check-out line. And in an age when...
...this film is based, is alert to the minutest shifts in a suburbanite's emotional barometer. George Miller, director of the wondrously violent Mad Max movies, sneezes and blows a typhoon. At first it seems a mix of two unsuited masters. And anyone who comes to The Witches of Eastwick expecting a Masterpiece Theatre adaptation will be disappointed, not to say grossed out. Alex wakes up in a bed of snakes; puke spumes as if from a seasick sewer pipe. No problem. Miller and Michael Cristofer have simply chosen to tell the story from coarse Daryl's point of view...