With that October chill in the air and Halloween fast approaching, I’ve got a trio of sexy and resilient witches on the brain these days. Alexandra, Sukie, and Jane form the triumvirate of powerful practitioners of witchcraft in the sleepy New England town of Eastwick. When a devilish interloper moves to town, strange occurrences become commonplace and the smirking stranger takes a lascivious liking to the three besties. To this point, the women were living quiet, ordinary, even boring lives in Eastwick, until Daryl Van Horne stirs something inside them—a calamitous concoction of sensual desire and black magic. The witches eventually break free to Van Horne’s seductive spell and unlock their full, majestic powers as witches to combat the evil Van Horne’s fire and brimstone.
Directed by George Miller and starring Jack Nicholson, Cher, Michelle Pfeiffer, and Susan Sarandon, The Witches of Eastwick (1987) has long been an annual October must-watch for me. From the quaint New England setting to the dark humor of the script and the uniformly great performances from all the leads—and scene-stealing supporting players like Veronica Cartwright and Richard Jenkins—The Witches of Eastwick is pure comfort viewing, but the best kind of comfort viewing. The movie is slyly subversive, with a delightfully nasty dark streak, and it isn’t afraid to push the creepy sexual undertones of Van Horne’s leering interest in the three witches. In short, it has just about everything you’d need out of a movie about three smoking hot witches battling the epitome of evil itself (Daryl is clearly the Devil).
Nicholson is at his hammy best, clearly relishing playing the ultimate bad boy. I adore Cher. She stands toe-to-toe with Jack throughout and especially in one memorable scene (“…you are the most unattractive man I have ever met in my entire life.”), turning in one of my favorite performances of hers. If you’ve forgotten just how great Cher was in so many films in the eighties, let The Witches of Eastwick be your reminder this October. Sarandon transforms from a shy church mouse into a full-blown sex bomb of epic proportions. She’s staggeringly sexy here. Michelle Pfeiffer’s no slouch in that department either, as evidenced by her own staggeringly sultry lounging about in Van Horne’s boudoir. As the sensitive and thoughtful Sukie, she’s not just a pretty face (and legs) though. She’s also the true heart and soul of the film in a performance that’s just magnificent—sweet, sexy, funny, and feisty.
The story of three witches coming into their own sexuality while being manipulated by the Devil may seem questionable to modern audiences, but the overwhelming feeling I’ve always taken from the film is ultimately one of empowerment. Sukie, Alexandra, and Jane unite their powerful witchcraft in a decidedly feminist rebuke of Satan’s sleazy manipulation.
That’s my two cents. Mainly, I love The Witches of Eastwick because it’s a wonderful film. It’s a joy to watch, and that’s why I watch it every October.
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