The War Of the Roses (1989)

Danny DeVito directs Kathleen Turner, Michael Douglas and himself in this black comedy where a long married couple battle each other to the death when their love goes sour.
Strange to think that this bleak, cynical anti rom-com was in steady rotation with Twins and The Three Amigos in my childhood viewing habits. My sister and I loved it as an alternative sequel to the Joan Wilder / Jack T. Colton adventures, and I realise looking back Michael Douglas was the one movie star who could get both my Mum and Dad to drop us off at the grandparents and go see a new release on opening weekend. He’s a slick scumbag here. It is hypnotic experiencing such an arrogant piece of shit watch his world fall apart. Whereas in your standard Douglas thriller the trauma is mainly psychological, here the whacks are escalating pratfalls with a co-star he has long established heat with. Turner is a classier prospect, always has been. She felt out of sync with Eighties – her flawless beauty and all-rounder talent base feeling more akin to a Rita Hayworth or a Lauren Bacall. So watching her crack is like watching a priceless Ming Dynasty vase slowly be crushed in a vice. DeVito’s sensibilities and pacing are spot on. His palette is just as expressionistic as Burton or Sonnenfeld were in this period. He still feels like an underrated director. There are some scene transitions and deadly slapstick set pieces here that are all-timers. And the whole thing is strangely moral. Homunculus.
8
Perfect Double Bill: Serial Mom (1994)
I write regular features about live comedy for British Comedy Guide here https://www.comedy.co.uk/people/bobby_carroll/features/










