Reviews

Robert Zemeckis is not my favorite director, "Contact" notwithstanding. There's nothing wrong with his movies; they're just fluffy. "Back to the Future" had an exhilarating two-billion-thread plot, but a disappointing moral climax-Marty's reengineered past creates an alternate present where his family is wealthy and the thing he covets most, a 4x4, is in the garage. (Such was our national mood--blame Reagan.) And "Forrest Gump", a decent and poignant melodrama, tried to be a satire too but instead of knowing commentary it delivered cliches (John Lennon on the Dick Cavett show answers questions using only lyrics from "Imagine"; an anti-war protester at a Washington rally makes his case before the crowd with the argument "Viet F...in' Nam!").

On the other hand, Zemeckis directed this, one of the great black comedies of the '90s. "Death Becomes Her" is a delicious, well-observed satire about makeup, makeup and more makeup. In Hollywood, if you're old you're run out of town on a rail and Meryl Streep's character is horrified that her body is going south. Streep has great comic timing (this role and her role in "Postcards from the Edge" are too-infrequent examples of it) and she makes a believable ogre of Madeline Ashton, a Streisand-esque demon. As the film begins in 1978 Madeline is onstage in a Broadway musical version of "Sweet Bird of Youth", hilariously retooled as an unironic paean to her girlish looks (she sings the unforgettable "I See Me" to her own reflection). Helen Sharp (Goldie Hawn) and her fiancee Ernest Menville (Bruce Willis) are in the audience, and after the show Madeline greets old friend Helen backstage, and promptly steals Ernest away from her for marriage. Flash forward seven years; Helen is overweight, living alone with dozens of cats and endlessly rewatching movie star Madeline being murdered in a scene from one of her films. She is evicted and arrested but in jail she hits on an elegant solution for eliminating Madeline from her mind: eliminating her.

Flash forward to 1992 Los Angeles; has-been Madeline is caking on makeup and scheduling multiple face-lifts to fend off the inevitable. Ernest, formerly a plastic surgeon with a promising career, is now a mortician who dresses and retouches the best-looking corpses in the business. (His secret: spraypaint.) No sooner has Madeline rediscovered a drop-dead gorgeous Helen--looking impossibly young and voluptuous at her own 50th birthday party--then she panics and becomes desperate for a quick fix for her fading looks. She ends up in a mysterious Hollywood mansion with a sorceress (Isabella Rossellini) who gives her a magic potion granting eternal youth. Meanwhile Helen seduces Ernest and enlists his help in murdering Madeline. But comes a twist (literally) and suddenly Madeline gets a looks at immortality, and her own rear end, following a nasty fall down a staircase.

All the actors shine here. Goldie Hawn is hilarious. Bruce Willis, an underrated comic actor, is goofier than he's been since "Moonlighting". Sydney Pollack does a virtuoso one-take cameo as a doctor who loses it after examining a dead-but-still-breathing Madeline. There are a lot of twists and surprises, not the least of which is that the FX get some of the biggest laughs. With technology these days being so good FX often slip invisibly into the background, this movie flaunts its CG-manipulated human bodies as something to goggle at.

Zemeckis' usual trademarks are here, including elaborate tracking shots in expositional scenes and the use of mirrors to combine on- and off-screen space (in this movie about vanity there is a surplus of mirrors, one in practically every scene). The movie was written by Martin Donovan and David Koepp (they cowrote "Apartment Zero"; Koepp wrote "Jurassic Park" and its sequel). The mordant, sour-as-kumquats score is by Alan Silvestri ("Back to the Future", "Who Framed Roger Rabbit"). The special effects were produced by Industrial Light and Magic.

This is a creepy little film... Kristy McNichol plays Kathy, a flautist and daddy's girl from the suburbs who is invited to join a professional jazz combo with a gig in a downtown restaurant in a big city. No sooner has she rented an apartment in town than she is attacked by a stalker, whom she kills in self-defense. Afterwards she attempts to suppress the memory of the attack and subsequently is plagued by a recurring nightmare where she relives the night of the attack. The rest of the movie deals with her relationship with a sleep researcher who uses her as a guinea pig in his experiments into the dream-life of animals. The scenes with McNichol playing flute and scatting are a little embarrassing (the movie employed technical advisors for scenes involving clinical psychology, and they could have used similar advice in the scenes with the jazz combo). Also, there's not much dramatic tension in a movie where Science is the protagonist and the only real antagonist is McNichol's lingering nightmares (in contrast with, say, "Altered States", where sound scientific theories complemented perfectly the fact that all the scientists were raving nutters). But the atmosphere is certainly unnerving and claustrophobic. The movie shifts from dream-frame to reality-frame often enough so that at the most crucial moments, you're kept guessing whether what you're seeing is real or not. Director Pakula coaxes his usual understated, naturalistic performances from all concerned. McNichol is perfectly cast as the slightly lost, sexually vulnerable young artist out on her own for the first time, and gives a great performance I've never seen her match. Her scenes with her father are affecting and pathetic. Paul Shenar is great, too, as Kathy's Dad; "Twin Peaks" fans will no doubt spend most of the film watching and waiting for the man who played Laura Palmer's possessed father to look in a mirror and see the face of Bob. To sum up: this is not one of Pakula's best movies, but definitely worth seeing--if only for the scene where McNichol meets her psychotic, and armed, self in a dream.