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SERIAL MOM. Directed and written by John Waters; produced by John Fiedler nud Mark Tarlov for Savoy Pictures. Starrlng Knthleen Turner, Sam Waterston, Ricki Lake and Matthew Lillard. Rated R. (violence, language)

***

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If you want to see just how black comedy can get, then don't miss Serial Mom. But if you are the least bit squeamish, please, please, give it a wide berth. (The people who clean up the floors in the theaters will thank you!)

It is a wickedly funny movie, with an emphasis on the wicked. So much so that I was quite disgusted with myself for laughing at several of the scenes. But I couldn't help laughing.

Not all of the scenes are winners however, and there are some pacing problems from time to time. But except for a few minor lapses, Serial Mom is well-written and remarkably self-consistent— it's weird, but the weirdness has a logic to it.

Turner obviously has a lot of fun playing Beverley, the title character, a suburban housewife who's just a wee bit obsessive/compulsive. Besides keeping an immaculate house (pity the poor fly who tries to catch a meal at her table), she's fiercely protective of her family.

When son Chip's math teacher suggests he may need counseling, he has an "accident" in the school parking lot. When her daughter is dumped by a local stud, he gets a poker in the back. Beverley is nothing if not inventive, never repeating a murder method.

The movie ends with her trial (complete with t-shirt sales), acquittal, and book and movie deals. This satire of celebrity/criminals is as pointed as any of Serial Mom's murder weapons.

This is supposed to be director Waters' breakthrough to the mainstream, but I found it to be every bit as weird, and considerably darker in tone, than the only other movie of his that I've seen. (That was Hairspray, a light-hearted 1988 look at obesity, dancing and race relations, among other things.)

The current film has mainstream stars, to be sure, but they're still swimming in a pretty remote backwash, definitely not the main channel.

May 11, 1994

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