Serial MomThe brighter the smile, the darker the bad side. Serial Mom is a black comedy about Beverly Sutphin (Kathleen Turner)--by day, a wholesome hausfrau and the matriarch of her perfect, nuclear family in the suburbs. But by proverbial night, when irritated by a social faux pas or other perceived slight on her family or her June Cleaver version of the world, she becomes a viciously creative serial killer. She considers it her civic duty to excise those who flout wholesome goodness with their bad manners by any means necessary. But as Beverly's murderous antics become more publicized, her bloody crusade threatens the very family unit she believes she is defending.
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Written and directed by cult movie icon, John Waters, Serial Mom represents one of the "tamer" entries into his oeuvre--and that says a lot given the amount of language and violence in this movie, which Beverly would no doubt protest. From start to finish, Serial Mom is a self-aware satire of purported wholesome values and of a disingenuous society which masks the insidious corruption and hatred crawling beneath the surface. Beverly is the scion of this motif, but it is felt throughout the rest of her family and community where they live in the suburbs of Baltimore. Making up the rest of the Sutphin household is her husband, Eugene (Sam Waterston)--a milquetoast dentist who sometimes forgets to administer novocaine when drilling--as well as their kids, Chip (Matthew Lillard), a horror movie enthusiast, and the lovelorn Misty (Ricki Lake), who can get surly when she doesn't get her way. The rest of the Sutphin household are generally good people, although after Beverly is finally captured and put on trial, the kids capitalize on their mom's newfound fame. Almost everyone else in Serial Mom exhibits some degree of self-righteousness or rude behavior, or is otherwise self-serving and a bit perverse. This is because the world of Serial Mom--as a satire--is a funhouse (or madhouse) version of our own. The people Beverly offs are those who have offended her or her family--questioning her parenting or cheating on her daughter--and even the witnesses to her crimes are unreliable degenerates. As an improvising avenger, Beverly performs her killings with diverse and sometimes innocuous murder weapons, including a pair of scissors, her family station wagon, and even a rack of lamb. Beverly is like the overachieving administrator of a condominium association, or the obnoxiously positive soccer mom who always brings perfectly formed Rice Krispie treats to the Cub Scouts pot luck. (There's also the eerie resemblance between Beverly Sutphin and Hillary Clinton which speaks for itself.) Take this smarmy perfectionist and add two cups of bloodthirsty tyrant, and you get Beverly Sutphin. Because Beverly is such an unlikely murderess, even circumstantial evidence that would incriminate her is usually disregarded (or even ignored). There's the intimation that because her victims are creeps, that they "have it coming", and because Beverly is such a charismatic, beaming figure, that when she goes to court and takes on the impossible task of defending herself, the everyone rallies for her victory. As her fame (or infamy) soars, she becomes a media sensation, like the paradoxical sensationalism showered on serial killers before her--like Martha Stewart crossed with Charles Manson.
Serial Mom purports to be based on a true story; while untrue, this is used as a framing device, similar to Fargo...her killings are even timestamped. The "true story" facade is subversively critiques films that present a sterile, made-for-TV version of reality, which absurdly depicts a plot based on a true crime. The way Serial Mom juxtaposes this artificial world with real-world tragedy underscores how manipulative reenacting these events are when done for the entertainment of disinterested TV audiences who channel surf between commercial breaks. By exploiting the derivative cliches and tropes of the genre, Serial Mom forces the audience into self-evaluation about their definition of true crime as entertainment, and the sinister implications of making a profit off of another's suffering. The world of Serial Mom is immersed in violence and horror; Chip's job at a video store has copious references to horror movies, and there are references to violent events like the siege of the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas, hinted at on the cover of a Newsweek magazine. In a way, Beverly is a victim of the media, too quick to turn atrocious killers into rockstar celebrities, evidenced by her secret correspondence with her "heroes" like Ted Bundy and Richard Speck. During her trial, her lawyer's strategy was to be an insanity defense; Beverly is undoubtedly crazy, but she has been made sick from an inability to differentiate the real world from a hyper-mannered fantasy version of it, born from a lifetime of "Better Homes & Gardens" magazines, and other psychosis-inducing artificial interpretations of reality. Her superficial persona of the smiling, apron-clad "Stepford Wife", is a counterpart to the equally "waspy" killer in American Psycho, Patrick Bateman; both of their murderous rampages are like an immature outburst, a reaction to a world they can only experience in a shallow way.
Violence is a persistent, ubiquitous presence in the media-driven world of Serial Mom, and in the twisted logic of Beverly Sutphin, polite society is the only thing keeping it at bay. After she is publicly revealed as the prime suspect in the serial killings, she takes on celebrity status of her own, even enticing Suzanne Somers (playing herself) to attend the trial in anticipation of being cast as Beverly in the eventual TV movie. Beverly's mere presence seems to encourage people to act out aggressively, like when she immolates Chip's pornography-obsessed buddy, Scotty (Justin Whalin) at a concert--performed by L7, under the name "Camel Lips"--and the lead singer spits alcohol on is burning body. Beverly's trial becomes a mockery of justice, where she easily exploits the jury's perception of her as a "normal" woman, and undermines the evidence by provoking witnesses to make their testimony inadmissible. There is no small degree of irony that "Juror #8" is played by none other than Patricia Hearst--who infuriates Beverly since she has the audacity to wear white shoes after Labor Day. (Beverly's trial appears eerily prescient in retrospect, given the notorious O.J. Simpson trial that would occur two months after the film's release.) Beverly proves to be exceptionally savvy at manipulating her audience, turning the jury into promoters, and making it look as though she has been victimized and not the other way around. This dynamic is similar to the one used by Amy Dunne in Gone Girl, adapted from the novel by Gillian Flynn. Beverly is delusional about maintaining a TV perfect life, where all the rules are obeyed--no matter how arbitrary. She styles herself as an arbiter of social justice, and is willing to kill to defend that code of behavior, embodying the worst unethical characteristics of both a mother and an activist.
Recommended for: Fans of a biting social satire about suburban superficiality and the insidious fascism of social constructs that, when violated, can lead people to terrible and extreme reactions. Serial Mom is a wholly black comedy, but a clever one that lends itself to an analysis of how the media and rigid adherence to pointless rules can in and of themselves lead to serious psychological problems.
Serial Mom purports to be based on a true story; while untrue, this is used as a framing device, similar to Fargo...her killings are even timestamped. The "true story" facade is subversively critiques films that present a sterile, made-for-TV version of reality, which absurdly depicts a plot based on a true crime. The way Serial Mom juxtaposes this artificial world with real-world tragedy underscores how manipulative reenacting these events are when done for the entertainment of disinterested TV audiences who channel surf between commercial breaks. By exploiting the derivative cliches and tropes of the genre, Serial Mom forces the audience into self-evaluation about their definition of true crime as entertainment, and the sinister implications of making a profit off of another's suffering. The world of Serial Mom is immersed in violence and horror; Chip's job at a video store has copious references to horror movies, and there are references to violent events like the siege of the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas, hinted at on the cover of a Newsweek magazine. In a way, Beverly is a victim of the media, too quick to turn atrocious killers into rockstar celebrities, evidenced by her secret correspondence with her "heroes" like Ted Bundy and Richard Speck. During her trial, her lawyer's strategy was to be an insanity defense; Beverly is undoubtedly crazy, but she has been made sick from an inability to differentiate the real world from a hyper-mannered fantasy version of it, born from a lifetime of "Better Homes & Gardens" magazines, and other psychosis-inducing artificial interpretations of reality. Her superficial persona of the smiling, apron-clad "Stepford Wife", is a counterpart to the equally "waspy" killer in American Psycho, Patrick Bateman; both of their murderous rampages are like an immature outburst, a reaction to a world they can only experience in a shallow way.
Violence is a persistent, ubiquitous presence in the media-driven world of Serial Mom, and in the twisted logic of Beverly Sutphin, polite society is the only thing keeping it at bay. After she is publicly revealed as the prime suspect in the serial killings, she takes on celebrity status of her own, even enticing Suzanne Somers (playing herself) to attend the trial in anticipation of being cast as Beverly in the eventual TV movie. Beverly's mere presence seems to encourage people to act out aggressively, like when she immolates Chip's pornography-obsessed buddy, Scotty (Justin Whalin) at a concert--performed by L7, under the name "Camel Lips"--and the lead singer spits alcohol on is burning body. Beverly's trial becomes a mockery of justice, where she easily exploits the jury's perception of her as a "normal" woman, and undermines the evidence by provoking witnesses to make their testimony inadmissible. There is no small degree of irony that "Juror #8" is played by none other than Patricia Hearst--who infuriates Beverly since she has the audacity to wear white shoes after Labor Day. (Beverly's trial appears eerily prescient in retrospect, given the notorious O.J. Simpson trial that would occur two months after the film's release.) Beverly proves to be exceptionally savvy at manipulating her audience, turning the jury into promoters, and making it look as though she has been victimized and not the other way around. This dynamic is similar to the one used by Amy Dunne in Gone Girl, adapted from the novel by Gillian Flynn. Beverly is delusional about maintaining a TV perfect life, where all the rules are obeyed--no matter how arbitrary. She styles herself as an arbiter of social justice, and is willing to kill to defend that code of behavior, embodying the worst unethical characteristics of both a mother and an activist.
Recommended for: Fans of a biting social satire about suburban superficiality and the insidious fascism of social constructs that, when violated, can lead people to terrible and extreme reactions. Serial Mom is a wholly black comedy, but a clever one that lends itself to an analysis of how the media and rigid adherence to pointless rules can in and of themselves lead to serious psychological problems.