In John Updike's playful novel, 'The Witches of Eastwick', the "witches" are three ordinary divorcées considered such for two reasons: by others for their unconventional and active sex lives, and by themselves, as they start to fear that some occult games they engaged in have actually created the devilish new lover who appears in all their lives. This film starts reasonably true to the book; but soon descends into a terrible mess. The sexual element is downplayed, whereas the mystical element is taken increasingly literally. The move ends with an extended, excruciating sequence of supposedly comic horror; this is neither comic nor horrific, but moreover, stripped of the writer's subtlety, at least one scene becomes directly misogynistic. If the film's worth seeing at all, it at least gives one an exposure to its triple dosage of 19080s big hair; for a wry take on sexual politics, look elsewhere.
Review of The Witches of Eastwick
