EVERYONE KNOWS THAT DEWITT loves to party, but few are aware of his more serious side. Many nights, long after the cheese dip has curdled and the half-empty highballs have been infected with stray cigarette butts, after the last guest has either gone home or passed out, Dewitt engages in his secret passion: creating life from nothingness.
Late into the night Dewitt struggles, working without pause on the far side of the rotating bookshelf that hides his laboratory. Occasionally he may pause for a brief demonic cackle, but apart from that it's work, work, work.
Unlike most mad scientists, however, Dewitt's object is not to conquer the world with zombies brought back from the grave, nor to steal the brain of a buxom virgin; no, Dewitt aims much higher than those petty goals. His intention is to fuse the breath of life into the lost casualties of Hollywood.
Impossible, you say, to turn Love is a Many Splendored Thing into a crowd-pleasing romance? Mad, you say, to attempt to transform Caligula into a film less mindless than its creators? Bizarre, yes, unheard of, yes! But mad? Well, maybe.
Call it poor lab safety techniques, call it contaminated chemicals, call it what you will, but last night Dewitt was working on the unsalvageable 1970 film l, Monster when the decinemadroxylase began to fibrilate--the rushes began to fade--everything was going black--Dewitt knew he was in trouble...
When he awoke amidst the rubble of lab benches Dewitt's eyes were greeted by a strange sight. It was hard to describe...sort of like a cross between Motown, Saturday Night Live and low-budget horror films. Consulting his dog-eared copy of Halliwell's Film Guide, Dewitt quickly identified the unknown quantity.
It was none other than Little Shop of Horrors (Copley Place)--and no wonder, for this is one film that has been through several incarnations. Little Shop began as a ridiculous cult thrill flick, was transformed into the hit stage musical of the same name, and finally came full circle back to the silver screen.
Anyone who's been to a comedy film this decade will not be surprised by the cast, who are pulled a usual from the ranks of the "Saturday Night Live" and "SCTV" casts. What is surprising, though, is that Rick Moranis, as Seymour the wimpy flower shop assistant, does remarkably well with his own voice in the show tunes. Of course, he gets blown away by the professional pipes of busty Ellen Greene, who plays Audrey, Seymour's love interest. And both are outclassed by the delicious deep tones of the former Four Tops Levi Stubbs, who plays the voracious herb.
Dewitt was pleased with the transformation he had wrought. He liked Little Shop of Horrors--it was pretty funny, fast-paced, and certainly not as painful as sadistic dentist Steve Martin would like. But Dewitt had already seen Little Shop. Could his new formula produce a different film?
A flash of light, a loud noise, and a curious smell later, Dewitt found himself basking in the unearthly glow of Children of a Lesser God (Copley Place). William Hurt plays a sensitive teacher of deaf children who falls for the lovely yet defiant Marlee Martin. Filmed in the Maritime provinces of Canada, Children has a warm, picturesque look to it that goes perfectly with the touching tale of love's triumph over painful skin conditions--sorry, I mean deafness.
Marlee Martin seems like the kind of girl you wanted to go out with in high school: short with a good body, and real quiet. But Hurt discovers the real truth--that she is a fireball of an individual who brandishes her deafness as a challenge to the rest of the world. Martin is actually deaf in real life, and to watch her develop an entire character without uttering a single word is truly amazing. It is also somewhat disheartening to think that she will probably never appear on film again.
Children is a well-crafted, romantic, warmfuzzies kind of movie, the perfect sort of film for taking a date to if you like them. But the only date Dewitt had on his mind was his date with destiny--and he had the makings right there with his amazing new transformation potion! Trembling with scientific curiousity, he ladled out a portion of the special goo, and bang!...
An unexpected geologic inversion produced a bizarre result: Crocodile Dundee (Beacon Hill). Beyond this, Dewitt couldn't figure out what had gone wrong. Paul Hogan always seemed pretty funny on the Foster's commercials, and Dewitt always found a certain charm in the Land Down Under--so why is Crocodile Dundee such a bad movie? The answer can be stated in very simple terms: because it's stupid.
The idea of a wacky, no-holds-barred goofy kind of outback Australian making his way through the wilds of New York is a charming concept. All sorts of neat possibilities come to mind. Unfortunately, none of them came to Paul Hogan. Instead he offers dumb and offensive jokes about the tribal origins of Blacks and hackneyed scenes of whores and innocents. This is one film that deserves to be transported back to the other side of the earth.
Dewitt was worried. Was his wonder substance losing its potency? Was its capacity to work good, and not evil, for mankind diminishing? Frankly, Dewitt did not know. So a teaspoonful of magic was applied, and there was the answer in black and white.
Dewitt breathed a sigh of relief. It was The Philadelphia Story (Harvard Film Archive), the charming, wise, funny classic that gives the lie to W.C. Fields' famous epitaph. One look at the cast--Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant, and Jimmy Stewart--just about says it all; but when you figure in the top-notch script and director George Cukor's subtle direction, you have one of Hollywood's few truly timeless jobs.
At last, Dewitt was satisfied that his transforming fluid was good enough to earn his personal seal of approval. And they said he was mad. As a weary Dewitt shuffled happily off to bed, he stroked his stubbly chin and thought of the future. Would he use his discovery to launch himself to fame?
Or reap his breakthrough for financial gain? No, he thought, much greater prospects lay ahead. Finally he could rid the world of Beach Blanket Bingo.
