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| Available at Amazon.com |
What if June Cleaver suddenly went mental? And by mental I don’t mean forgetting to make dinner or clean the house, top to bottom. She’d probably be Beverly Sutphin (Kathleen Turner), a wholesome and caring mother who puts down her broomstick and takes up the fight for common decency – even if it means getting her hands dirty…with blood.
Leave it to John Waters to produce something like Serial Mom. A fan of court trials and drive-in theatres, the man, with his trademark pencil-thin mustache, delivers a wickedly perverse satire that borrows from classic television shows and pokes fun at suburban Americana, and our morbid curiousness when it comes to celebrity trials and serial killers.
This is a clever film, and one I hadn’t seen since it first arrived on the now archaic videocassette. Such a child I was, not wanting to add this to my queue of movies to revisit every few months. Though, back then, I didn’t know much about John Waters, having only seen Hairspray – his most commercially accessible feature. Only later would I discover his earlier works, inspired by the likes of Russ Meyer and gorehound horror auteur Herschell Gordon Lewis (who is also referenced in the film Juno). Several instances of Serial Mom act as a horror homage to the famed director, including one scene where Beverly Sutphin’s son, Chip (Matthew Lillard), is watching a sequence from Blood Feast in his bedroom.
John Waters may be credited as the writer, producer and director, but clearly Kathleen Turner is the one steering this vehicle. Her peachy keen performance as the perfect mother with a killer smile is probably some of the best work she’s ever done. Other than her animated performance as Jessica Rabbit in Who Framed Roger Rabbit? I can’t think of anything that comes close. She is just awesome as the serial-killing homemaker. Her look alone echoes the likes of Barbara Billingsley and Donna Reed. Not a hair out of place, her pearly white teeth disguising a wicked tongue. In one gut-busting scene, Turner delivers a profanity-laced telephone tirade with words you’d never hear in Sunday school. Yes it is childish and appeals to a younger base, but to hear Turner say those words in that acerbic tone of hers makes it all the more fun.
“Hey, can I borrow your mother? My Aunt is coming for dinner and she’s always getting on my nerves.”
Having grown up watching Freddy Kruger, Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers make mincemeat of their prey, I need to recognize Betty Sutphin. She’s no pushover. Sure, her moral compass may be whacked, but she knows how to take care of business. She doesn’t care about leaving fingerprints or getting a little sliver of liver on her shoes.
But with each senseless killing another life-affirming lesson is reinforced. Honest. Lessons like remembering to buckle your seatbelt or the importance of recycling. And I can’t forget about abstaining from using the “brown” word at the dinner table. Saying that word won’t get you killed, unlike the others, but it’ll definitely get you a stern talking to.
The passage above should make it clear that Serial Mom is full of sarcastic wit and charm. The gags, like Waters’ vision of the suburbs, are all over the map. While the story takes place the ‘burbs of Baltimore, the neighborhood is a cross between the oddness of Edward Scissorhands and the perverseness of David Lynch. And with the jokes I’m not sure which is the best. The inventive means of killing, which rely on resourcefulness rather than intricate planning, rate high, but so does Betty Sutphin’s murder trial. Actually, I’ve got it. It has to be when Betty makes a witness clam up on the stand by opening and closing her thighs at a rapid rate and at just the right angle. For a second there I bet the witness thought he was seeing the “jewel of the Nile.”
This new collector’s edition release by Universal Pictures is to update the version that has been long out of print. Unfortunately, while Serial Mom is anamorphically enhanced for widescreen televisions, it isn’t the correct aspect ratio. The ratio should be 1.66:1 but this release has it at 1.85:1. It’s not as glaring as the Lord of War aspect ratio flub, just a nitpick issue. The video transfer is good enough, though you can definitely see the dirt in the print. But this new transfer does wonders for cinematographer’s Robert M. Stevens visual palate. Pastels and bright whites are at the forefront. Sometimes muddy, but solid overall.
The films of John Waters don’t need to be presented in Dolby Digital 5.1 but Universal thought it fitting to let us hear Betty Sutphin swat a fly in 5.1 clarity. Actually, except for the opening sequence where she uses a flyswatter, the rest of the film isn’t as dynamic in 5.1. Basil Poledouris’ score does not engulf your family area or bedrooms. It’s a little low, and not the aural juggernaut it could be.
Billed as a collector’s edition, let’s see if this release is more substantial than the 1999 release, which included a commentary track and some brief features.
The bulk of the extras is two commentary tracks. The first track is Waters going solo, and as far as I can tell it is the same commentary that appeared on the OOP release. Waters is so outgoing, whether he’s conducting interviews or being interviewed himself. He covers the basics: inspiration for Serial Mom and accounts from the production. But he also talks about his personal life and delves into his past, talking about his best friend, the late Divine. For the second track, Kathleen Turner joins Waters. Newly recorded, Waters repeats, or tells stories, that were in his previous commentary, but now we get some female perspective about the film’s irony and how now that Court TV is TruTV, the tabloid sensationalism of court proceedings has lessened a great deal.
“I don’t like to read about movies. They’re so violent.”
“Serial Mom: Serial Moments” is a 30-minute featurette which contains a series of interviews with Waters, his production crew and select cast members (sadly, Kathleen Turner is nowhere to be found). It’s not a linear making-of as the participants offer insights on different areas. Best of all are the stories of certain celebrities visiting the set. One day it was former Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Conner, another day it was a Patty Hearst. Patty’s visit probably got the most attention, so much so Waters just had to put her in a bit part. (Here’s a hint: she’s the one wearing white after Labor Day.) There’s even comments from the lead singer of the all-girl rock group L7, Donita Sparks. The group appears in the film as the fictional band Camel Lips.
“The Kings of Gore: Herschell Gordon Lewis and David Friedman” is a brief, 11-minute feature about the originators of the splatter film. Lewis’ films, which were produced by Friedman, had a garish style and exploited graphic violence. Predating Sam Peckinpah’s Wild Bunch, this feature has some great sound bites from Waters, Lewis, and Friedman among others. An interesting bit is learning that Gary Sinise’s father, Robert Sinise, was one of the editors of Blood Feast.
“The Making of Serial Mom“ is the original promotional featurette about John Waters’ film, and includes behind-the-scenes footage and short sound bites from the cast and director. And if we didn’t already know that Waters was influenced by Tim Burton’s films, the background music is a sampling from Beetlejuice.
Finishing off the extras is the original trailer, again accompanied by Danny Elfman’s Beetlejuice score.
Serial Mom is one of those films that was made at just the right time. Before O.J., Scott Peterson, and Court TV, Waters was one step ahead. Revisiting it again, I can’t believe it was as funny as it was. Kathleen Turner is a mother to be feared by high school teachers, non-recyclers and those who prefer musicals over schlock entertainment. This DVD release has a nice presentation and some decent extras. Those who have forgotten this gem of a satire should rent it again, and fans of John Waters will want to pick this up.
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Savoy Pictures presents Serial Mom. Written and directed by John Waters. Starring Kathleen Turner, Sam Waterston, Ricki Lake, Matthew Lillard, and Mink Stole. Running time: 94 minutes. Rated R (for satirical presentation of violence, vulgar language and sexual episodes). Released on May 6, 2008. Available at Amazon.com.
About Travis Leamons
