Watched: 10/12/2025
Format: Prime
Viewing: First
Director: George Miller
I checked Roger Ebert's review of The Witches of Eastwick (1987). Look, some movies are a product of their time, and this is one. Ebert found it an edgy, sexy romp. And that was how I remember the movie being discussed in 1987.
I finally got to the movie here in 2025, and in short, all of the interesting bits are left off-screen. We hear about them, can infer or guess other bits. But we're still in 1980's America here, and if you want to not wind up in the midnight movie ghetto, you keep it polite so Mom and Dad have a movie they can sneak off to go see and leave you alone with a rented copy of Beastmaster.
The Witches of Eastwick is about two divorcees and a widow (Susan Sarandon, Michelle Pfeiffer and Cher) who live in a small Rhode Island town where they are hit upon by married men and saddled with lives they don't want. The three get together on Thursdays to eat processed crap food, drink, play cards and have someone listen.
During one such session, they describe what they want in a man, and, lo and behold, these three women - with what X-Men comics would call latent magical abilities - seem to summon exactly that man to their town in the form of Jack Nicholson/ some light version of Satan.
Nicholson buys a massive mansion (think Newport on steroids) and proceeds to be an ass around town and impresses everyone he meets.
He swiftly seduces Cher, Sarandon and... in front of the other two, Pfeiffer.









