Bad movie notes: The Craft

There is a certain masochism inherent in being a die hard MST3K fan.  You find yourself having conversations like this in video stores:

“Hey, look at this movie!”

“That looks awful!

“I know!  Let’s buy it!”

It was a conversation of this nature that lead to us having a copy of the film The Craft lying around, and last night, in the absence of British comedy on the teevee, we put it in.

I’d seen a long time ago, but I’d forgotten how bad it is.  Synopsis: depressed WASPy Sarah moves to California with her father and stepmother (presumably from New York, this being Hollywood).  She quickly falls in with a group of OMG REAL WITCHES, and they have a grand old time shoplifting, pining after asshole boys, killing homeless men, and generally living the typical Beverly Hills high-school life.  But then Fairuza Balk gets God in her veins, wigs out, and goes all manic and aggressive and paranoid.  Yes, “God” in this movie is apparently a thinly veiled metaphor for methamphetamines.  Just in the nick of time Sarah’s dead mom pulls a Ben Kenobi and tells Sarah to look deep inside herself.  She takes a deep breath, rolls a twenty, and saves the day.  Unluckily for Balk’s character she is poor white trash, so she winds up a mental institution instead of a cushy rehab center.

Some notes:

  • I’ve never heard of the God they were invoking in this movie (“mana”?  “mano”?  “Manos?”); but he is apparently the god of cattiness, because once Sarah gets imbued with his power at the end of the movie she becomes just as much of a smug bitch as her ex-friends.
  • Speaking of which, this movie featured the most God-centric Goddess religion I’ve ever seen
  • Fairuza Balk:  hotter with her mouth closed.
  • I seem to recall some controversy when this movie came out, because it glorified witchcraft or somesuch.  Which is ironic, because this movie glorifies wichcraft the way Eyes Wide Shut glorifies casual sex.
  • Good gravy I had forgotten just how badly music sucked in the 90s.  The only good moment in the soundtrack is when they dig up some vintage Morrissey.
  • EDIT: Also, although I’ve heard the makers consulted with practicing witches while making the movie, I have a beef with the movie’s authenticity.  To be consistent with the Gardnerian-style Wiccan  practice depicted, Neve Campbell, Robin Tunney, Fairuza Balk, and Rachel True should have been 100% more nude during their rituals.
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