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The movie was so good. Sridevi and everybody acted very well in the movie. Songs were not good but BGM in the movie was so good. The movie was so interesting and thrilling. But the movie has some logic mistakes and there were some vulgar scenes. But the movie was so good.
Imagine this: the main character is a woman called Beverly Sutphin. Her husband is a dentist and she does her best to bring up her children. In short, she is a respectable human being with the particularity of being a real stickler for good manners . Maybe, a little too respectable so that when someone speaks ill of one member of her family, Beverly is ready to kill to defend her family!Only one filmmaker seemed designated to shot this highly entertaining black comedy: John Waters, the king of bad taste and extravagance. In \"Serial Mom\", most of the comical situations are structured about the two quoted characteristics. The whole is condensed in one hour and a half. You don't get bored one moment and you honestly laugh in front of all these murders. In \"Serial Mom\", you also recognize Waters' strong taste for bloody, gore and horror movies. Moreover, for this extraordinary director, it is the occasion to harm the model image of the American family.All in all, a delightfully politically incorrect comedy led by a Kathleen Turner on top form.
This is probably one of John Waters' most approachable films for the mass audience--along with CRY BABY and HAIRSPRAY. Unlike Waters' earlier films, which were meant for a niche audience (i.e., weird people--and I don't mean that derogatorily). So if you are looking for the ultra-low budget over-the-top films starring Divine, you may be disappointed that this film has a lot more polish and higher production values. However, this is NOT to say that SERIAL MOM is normal--just a lot more normal than these earlier flicks. Plus, this is one of the few Waters films you can watch with your kids--provided they are older and not terribly impressionable!Kathleen Turner turns in her best performance as a combination between June Cleaver and Ted Bundy--complete with the pearl necklace. This movie, start to finish, is very funny and a great satiric look at life in the suburbs. In addition, like his later CECIL B. DEMENTED, it's an interesting satire that is a way over the top look at America's fascination with celebrity and how we admire and are fascinated with anyone if they are famous--even the vile and horrific.NOTE--Like many of John Waters' later films, this one features a cameo by Patty Hearst.
SERIAL MOM is one of my all-time favourite black comedies, a genre that's notoriously difficult to get right (I mean, seriously, how many good ones can you think of). I'm no fan of John Waters - in fact, this is the only film of his I've ever seen - but in this he has created pretty much the perfect antidote to the psycho-thriller genre.Kathleen Turner bags the role of a lifetime as Beverly R. Sutphin, a seemingly ordinary housewife with a sinister side: she bumps off anybody who crosses her. Add in a quirky family (young 'uns Ricki Lake and Matthew Lillard are both particularly funny) and you have the scene set for plenty of unusual and unexpected laughs. The murder scene set to ANNIE is by far my favourite moment and one of the funniest things I've ever seen.What I like most about SERIAL MOM is the plot. In lesser hands, Turner would have successfully covered up her murders for the film's duration. Not so here - she's discovered, and becomes an unlikely celebrity, basking in her new-found fame. This gives Waters plenty of opportunity for satirising American law and order, fame, celebrity as well as suburban life and the nuclear family. DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES may satirise those kinds of things these days, but SERIAL MOM got there first!
On a September night in 1974, the wet season was closing down andan encore of rain washed the streets of Monrovia, Liberia; a torrent of skyand trash--discarded slippers, supine roaches, maybe a lost crab. The rainstopped as abruptly as it started, as if a conductor had pressed his fingerstogether and cut the thundering chords, and then a film of humidity stretchedover the city, steaming the downtown party strip that ran from Carey Streetto Broad and Gurley. That night, The Maze--a small discotheque on MechlinStreet--was cramped. Some fifty people, a cut of high society, had gathereddespite the weather; women in draped dresses, men in suits with pocketsquares and bow ties. Nina Simone arrived at midnight, giddy on champagne andin the arms of a Liberian date. By then the umbrellas in the corner had longdried and a mirror ball was sending out spots of light, bleaching the redvelour curtains over and over. The speakers rang with imported soul anddisco: James Brown, The Temptations, twelve-inch records from labels likeMotown's Gordy and Stax. Living for the City. Don't You Worry'Bout a Thing. Not long after Simone walked in, something got toher--the place or the drink, surely--and throwing her head back in laughter,she unfastened the button at her nape, peeled off her dress, and, as the menat the bar clapped and hollered, she danced until sun up, only putting herdress back on to leave. I found another piece, a videotape.
It was a language that Simone spoke fluently. She was forty-onewhen she first landed at Robertsfield International Airport, hertwelve-year-old daughter Lisa in tow, their belongings--clothes, books,records--packed into the belly of a Pan Am jet. Six years had passed sinceMartin Luther King Jr.'s assassination; nine since Simone had belted outprotest songs during the Selma to Montgomery voting-rights march. Althoughblack America still saw her as a talented political performer, a civil-rightsrevolutionary armed with loud and furious song--\"Oh, but this wholecountry is full of lies, you're all gonna die and die like flies,\"she sang in \"Mississippi Goddam,\" berating the go-slow politics ofthe Johnson administration--she had seen little racial progress. Two of thebig six were dead, as were her friends Langston Hughes and Malcom X; HueyNewton and Bobby Seale were in jail. The rhythm of the civil-rights movementhad ebbed, and Simone wondered if her cris de coeur for a more just racialorder had fallen short.
His younger brother, William A. Tolbert, was too small to rememberSimone, but her voice burned into his brain. \"In the nineties, I waswatching the movie Point of No Return, and I heard Nina's voice on thesoundtrack,\" he said. \"It sounded so familiar, almost maternal tome. I felt that it could have been my mom, or someone that close to me.\"He initially brushed it off, but a few years later he asked his mother ifshe'd heard of Nina Simone. \"She looked at me like I was crazy andsaid, 'Well, of course I've heard of Nina Simone! You used to siton her lap at our house.' At that moment, everything came together. Irealized I had heard Nina's voice before; that's why it was sofamiliar, so centering.\"
As the country crumpled into civil war, Simone moved toSwitzerland--the antonym of Liberia, with its white winters, symmetricalpeaks, and carefully measured minutes (\"I swear all ten million Swisscitizens go to bed at exactly nine o'clock each night,\" she wrote).Her own downward spiral into mental illness would come, underpinned by grieffor Liberia and her lovers there, for her father, and for herself, EuniceWaymon, the black concert pianist erased by an unjust racial order. 153554b96e
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