Subtle, it ain't but George Miller's film version of John Updike's "The Witches of Eastwick" is extremely entertaining. Jack Nicholson, in a role you feel he was born to play, is Darryl Van Horne, 'just your average, horny little devil' who, it would appear, is conjured up by three New England women, (Cher, Susan Sarandon and Michelle Pfeiffer), one stormy night and whose presence in their lives turns them into 'the witches' of the title. He's magnificent and very funny but the movie goes to pieces before the end. What starts out as a satire on New England prudery and what, I suppose, could be called 'the battle of the sexes' just becomes another Faustian horror-comedy about selling your soul to the Devil but, at least on that level, it's great fun, (and you do get the impression that these witches are having a ball). Throw in Veronica Cartwright as one of those New England prudes who sees Nicholson for what he is and not just a great lay with supernatural powers and you have a female-centered movie of the first order. It may be no classic but it's a great guilty pleasure.
Review of The Witches of Eastwick
