From: frankm@microsoft.com (Frank R.A.J. Maloney)
Subject: REVIEW: DEATH BECOMES HER
Reply-To: frankm@microsoft.com (Frank R.A.J. Maloney)
Organization: Microsoft Corp., Redmond WA
Date: Thu, 13 Aug 1992 17:46:05 GMT
Followup-To: rec.arts.movies
Summary: r.a.m.r. #01484
Keywords: author=Maloney

			     DEATH BECOMES HER
		       A film review by Frank Maloney
			Copyright 1992 Frank Maloney

     DEATH BECOMES HER is a movie directed by Robert Zemeckis, from a
script by Martin Donovan and David Koepp.  It stars Meryl Streep, Goldie
Hawn, Bruce Willis, and Isabella Rosellini.  Rated PG-13 for violence
and nudity.

     DEATH BECOMES HER is an occult black comedy, neither qualifier
being an easy one to bring off successfully.  LOVE AT FIRST BITE and
YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN did this neatly, but a hundred other efforts have
failed to find that perfect mixture of camp, horror, and conscientious
scenery-chewing.  DEATH almost succeeds in its aspirations, never quite
going over the top, but it works as entertainment; it is bold,
inventive, chance-taking, and a lot of fun.

     Of course, no small amount of the fun arises from the amazing,
seamless special effects.  This is Hollywood's most expensive film in
this genre and the money was well spent.  The folks at Lucasfilms'
Industrial Light and Magic Company employed a rich vocabulary of
computer-generated, live-action effects of the sort we would normally
expect to be possible only in animated cartoons.

     Robert Zemeckis (WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT, ROMANCING THE STONE)
found the right cartoon visual style and comedy tone to highlight both
his f/x and his stars, and to carry us over the rough spots in the
script by Martin Donovan and David Koepp.  The script is the weakest
element of the movie; it has an important satiric point to make about
aging in a society that prizes youth and is rapidly aging itself.
Unfortunately, the script never finds a way to give this point the
necessary power and force.  The set up is a long time developing and
exposes some holes in the plot.  Some of the scenes are strictly of the
slow-boat-to-China variety, some are open to charges of prejudice
against women, against the overweight, and so forth.  All of which
distracts from the point of the film: the price to be paid for immortal
youth.

     The cast, like the special effects and the direction, help
overcome, or at least obscure, the script problems.  Meryl Streep is
nothing short of brilliant as the aging, frightened star, the insecure
grande dame.  The first time we see her is in the funniest parody of the
Broadway musical since Robert Preston gasped and panted his way in drag
through the finale of VICTOR/VICTORIA, and possibly since the
"Springtime for Hitler" sequence in THE PRODUCERS.  She trots out a rich
store of expressions, gestures, and slapstick schtick.  In our
household, her line "*Now* a warning!" has become a by-word, a running
joke, but we still can't do it as well as La Streep.  Goldie Hawn
handles her triple-part effectively.  But it is Bruce Willis who is the
greatest surprise and therefore the greatest pleasure, in its way; he is
the broken wimp caught between two self-obsessed, manipulating viragos;
he is our, the audience's, spokesman and as such becomes the moral
center and the hero, the point of light in the blackness.

     I found DEATH BECOMES HER an pleasant way to spend a couple of
hours and can recommend it to you for its virtues.  For its failings, I
recommend you pay matinee prices.

-- 
Frank Richard Aloysius Jude Maloney

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