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<text id=89TT3215>
<title>
Dec. 11, 1989: Marriage To The Bitter End
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1989
Dec. 11, 1989 Building A New World
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
CINEMA, Page 93
Marriage to the Bitter End
</hdr><body>
<p>By Richard Schickel
</p>
<qt> <l>WAR OF THE ROSES</l>
<l>Directed by Danny DeVito</l>
<l>Screenplay by Michael Leeson</l>
</qt>
<p> Everything has come up roses for the Roses. Oliver (Michael
Douglas) has made partner at his influential law firm. Barbara
(Kathleen Turner) has converted her catering service from
busywork to flourishing business. The kids are trouble free and
accepted by all the right schools. The last expensive antique
has been placed in the last empty space in their exquisitely
restored house. In other words, disaster now looms.
</p>
<p> For the habit of discontent has been the engine driving
their lives. And the only thing left to be discontented about
is contentedness. Suddenly Barbara can't stand the way Oliver
chews his food. Or his insistence on correcting the details when
she tries to tell dinner-party stories. When he suffers what at
first looks like a heart attack -- it turns out to be a hiatal
hernia -- she cannot quite make it to the emergency room to fake
anxiety and sympathy. That night, she proposes separation.
</p>
<p> So far, so realistic. One imagines them heading for the
sort of civilized divorce settlement that people with a fair
amount of community property to protect generally work out. No
such luck for the Roses. All kinds of good luck for moviegoers
willing to follow director Danny DeVito and screenwriter Michael
Leeson down an increasingly dark and comedically dangerous path.
The problem is their house, symbol of everything they have
struggled to achieve. Barbara is willing to forgo alimony if she
can keep it. Oliver is ready to pay her almost anything if he
can have it. His lawyer (nicely played by DeVito) discovers an
obscure statute under which they can divorce yet continue to
live under the roof on which they have lavished their truest
love.
</p>
<p> This is a terrible idea, an invitation to declare a war of
attrition. It opens at a level just beyond practical joking: he
saws the heel off every shoe in her closet; she totals his
collection of Staffordshire. Soon enough, fires are started.
And not long thereafter, the situation turns life threatening,
first to household pets caught in the cross fire, then to the
combatants.
</p>
<p> What is wonderful about the film is that the filmmakers are
no more willing to compromise their black comic vision of
marriage than the Roses are willing to compromise their
differences. Both ends are pursued to a conclusion that is
bitter, surprising and utterly logical. But it is the style with
which this wild farce is developed that sustains our horrified
interest and keeps us laughing as the darkness gathers around
Barbara and Oliver.
</p>
<p> DeVito's transformation of a sun-splashed showplace into a
haunted house is admirable, and so is his pacing. Turner is,
needless to say, beautiful when she's angry -- sinuous,
calculating, purring before she pounces. Douglas makes
something equally good of the self-righteousness and self-pity
with which some males exercise territorial imperatives. And both
contrive to suggest that their warfare is a kind of perverse
courtship, a form of preening designed to achieve a surrender
that goes far beyond the sexual. You can take or leave the
implication that all marriages (and all divorces) may have that
as their ultimate goal. But it would be wrong to ignore a film
that blends incautious comedy and cautionary morality so
expertly.
</p>
</body></article>
</text>