Captain EO kicks into gear--Not that it doesn't land running to begin with--when Anjelica Huston takes the screen as the B-Bad to the B-Bone Evil Queen. She's amazing. Or rather, it's amazing.

Like a bastard-bitch of all the great Hollywood hags--the Wicked Witch of the West, Snow White's nemesis, the Big Mama Jamma of Aliens, Linda Blair--or like a Heavy Metal album cover, or maybe Charlotte of Charlotte's web keye-up on Benzedrine, she hovers suspended in a junkyard web, hissing threats to Michael Jackson, clicking her Ultra-Nails at the camera. The best 3-D moment in Captain EO comes when the Queen unravels her armor-plated crab claws and practically, you know, picks yer nose. It's great. It's, uhh, disgusting.

What happens, of course, is little old Michael's got to dance and sing the Evil Queen and her whip-cracking tinpan entourage into an early grave. And the forces of Music and Light oblige him, transforming Huston into a doe-eyed Greek goddess. It's a happy ending, sure. But with that mayonnaise-in-her-veins look of Nirvana on her kisser, you kinda sorta miss the spitting-spider Evil Queen.

THE SONGS are passable. Standard Thriller outtakes. I liked the dancing, though it's sort of fascistic; lots of upthrust fists and "Sieg Heil!" grunting. The sets are impressive, too. Like Harlem in space.

At approximately a quarter of an hour running time, Captain EO seems to go by in the blink of an eye. And I had an urge to see it again, to stay-put right where I was. But the usherettes usheretted my date and me outside, Michael Jackson "ooo!" -ing on the muzak overhead, and I managed to smuggle out a pair of purple wrap-around 3-D glasses. And I'm wearing 'em right now.

In a word, then ...

Hey, Michael! Hey, Mickey! Hey, Francis C.! And everybody! Thumbs up, Dudes. I dug it, I dug it!