The Witches of Eastwick (1987)

The Witches of Eastwick is the rare studio comedy that feels wickedly alive: a glossy small-town fairy tale with sharp teeth, where desire, power, and gossip swirl together into something both seductive and slyly satirical. George Miller stages the whole thing like a decadent party you can’t quite trust, and Jack Nicholson’s flamboyant menace is matched beat for beat by Cher and Susan Sarandon, who give the film its real electricity—funny, smart, and unexpectedly human even as the supernatural dial keeps turning. It’s playful, nasty, and oddly cathartic, using its fantasy to poke at the battle of the sexes without ever turning into a lecture. If you’re allergic to R-rated sexuality or don’t enjoy your laughs laced with a bit of horror, it may not be your brew—but if you like your entertainment bold, stylish, and a little dangerous, this one casts a spell.

The Witches of Eastwick is clearly trying to be a naughty, glossy cocktail of small-town satire, supernatural wish-fulfillment, and horror-tinged comedy, with George Miller leaning into heightened, almost storybook chaos. When it works, it’s thanks to the sheer star power—Nicholson going full peacock and the three leads giving the film real spark and chemistry. The catch is that the movie’s tone can feel all over the place: it swings from playful and sexy to nasty and grotesque, and the back half gets so cartoonish and effects-driven that the story starts to feel thin and oddly paced. If you want tight plotting, consistent mood, or a more grounded take on female empowerment, this may feel like a messy mixed bag rather than a satisfying spell.