His cast this time includes Ricki Lake (whom he discovered in "Hairspray") as Misty Sutphin, the boy-crazy daughter who eventually begins to twig that something is wrong with mom Sam Waterston as Beverly's unobservant husband, and Matthew Lillard as Chip, the brother whose bad grades at school inspire his mom to run down one of his teachers with her car. Both films, like "Serial Mom," depend for a lot of their humor on his memories of a time when people seriously believed that cheese could come in cans. After his early X-rated weirdo extravaganzas starring Divine, he scaled back to PG-land for " Hairspray" (1988) and "Cry Baby" (1990), invocations of the early 1960s and mid-1950s. John Waters has, of course, been over some of this ground before many of his films show a surface of inane suburban normality, pierced by the secret depravities of his inhabitants.
Like " Clifford," this is a movie where the comedy doesn't work because at some underlying level the material generates emotions we feel uneasy about.
She gets a weird light in her eyes that I guess we're supposed to laugh at, but, gee, it's kind of pathetic the way she goes into murderous action. The movie shows her triggered by passing remarks (a garbage man says "somebody ought to kill" a neighbor woman who refuses to recycle). Turner's character is helpless and unwitting in a way that makes us feel almost sorry for her - and that undermines the humor. Watch "Serial Mom" closely, however, and you'll realize that something is miscalculated at a fundamental level. In the classic horror films, we're amused because the evil is so stylized we can't take it seriously Vincent Price licks his lips and rolls his eyes and intones his pseudo-Shakespearean imprecations, and his behavior takes the edge off his actions. In the slasher movies, the humor comes because the killers are seen as the victims of their programming, repeating the same obsessive behavior over and over again we laugh because we see their mistake.
But in a comedy they need to extract some sort of zeal and manic joy from their atrocities they have to give the audience permission, for the time being, to suspend the ordinary rules of good conduct. All serial killers are insane (at least I hope so). In "Serial Mom," though, it's not so much that Turner's performance doesn't succeed, as that there's something sad about it that works against the humor. One thing I like about Turner is her willingness to tackle unlikely roles her agent probably warned her against Danny DeVito's "War of the Roses," for example, but she and the equally fearless Michael Douglas took that exercise in matrimonial bloodshed and made it ghoulishly effective.
He has the look and feel of their middle-American neighborhood just right, but the movie's comic premise doesn't go anywhere with it.īeverly, the Serial Mom, is played by Kathleen Turner, a brave actress who has ventured here where several other actresses reportedly feared to tread.
There is even something about the way he shows sunlight bathing a breakfast table that's amusing his Sutphins look like they live in a cereal commercial.