![]() What was I missing?Ī few years later, I saw Mommie Dearest again, alone, on a fairly ropey DVD, and everything about the film – and my own response to it – clicked into place. And yet I didn’t find the surrounding film as riotously funny as everyone around me seemed to. Its most iconic, culturally entrenched moments delivered all the ramped-up kitsch that had been promised, plus an additional, frightening jolt of in-context shock that they never had as isolated clips. I felt I hadn’t watched Frank Perry’s film so much as I’d watched other people watching it, and while there was both pleasure and fascination in that spectatorship, the film felt a little lost in the mix. A generation of viewers had already rehabilitated Mommie Dearest from its initial critical infamy, and determined how it should thereon be enjoyed. I left the screening having had a good time, while also feeling slightly left out of the joke.
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