Better In Your Head?--THE WAR OF THE ROSES

 

Spoiler Alert: don't let the home own you. And never apologize for being multi-orgasmic.

THE BOOK-Written by Warren Adler, released 1981

THE MOVIE-Directed by Danny DeVito, written by Michael J. Leeson, released 1989

THE STORY-There's these people. People who wear underwear every day. People whose mother-of-pearl shells breed maggots. These people fall crazy in love, then crazy out of love, and The War Of The Roses is their frosty story. When the tongue can no longer distinguish water from vodka, when undercover resents overflow, when indifference becomes the new anger, and waging war is the only thing that brings peace. 

MIND THE GAP-The film alters quite a bit. Two lawyers become one; an American au pair becomes a German housekeeper; and said lawyer provides voice-over narration in the guise of advice to a disgruntled husband. The excessive one-upmanship between the estranged Oliver (FKA Jonathan) and Barbara Rose, while still ludicrous onscreen, is tempered somewhat. Spiked drinks, sabotaged saunas, crunched Ferraris, bathtubs of rotting food--the movie shows you most of the carnage. But it pusses out when it comes to the dog. Can't risk alienating the audience!

Danny DeVito pulls double duty as the lawyer, and makes their kind seem not-so reprehensible. The book lawyers, with full knowledge of the depths their respective clients would plunge in order to retain possession of the opulent family home, take separate vacations. 

The film doesn't care that the action takes place in Washington, D.C. Shame; Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner tearing into some Double-R burgers would've kept Roy Rogers from near-extinction.

The Rose children, vital on the page, are non-entities on the screen. Once they're sent off, the battle between their folks escalates. Respect, decency, love--up in smoke. The epiphany hits just before the end does. 

BETTER IN YOUR HEAD?-Most who've consumed both prefer the film. Already familiar to '80s audiences as the stars of Romancing The Stone and The Jewel Of The Nile, Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner proved equally successful in a dark, lethally clever comedy. It's for sure funnier than the book; like being tickled with rusted tongs. And as mentioned, the filmmakers pulled punches in their quest to push out as many gallows guffaws as possible. Viewers never get the space or time to consider the headier issues.

I walked away from the book dazed, knowing that parents who abandon their responsibilities (no matter the reason, regardless of the rhyme) are hopelessly lost. I walked away from the film dazed, knowing that spouses who abandon their common sense are not as lost as they imagine. The idea of sympathizing with either version of the Roses is laughable to me. A control freak who'd feel markedly happier with an acquiescent partner of modest ambition, or a nauseatingly-entitled sociopath whose single gift cannot sustain her desired lifestyle? I'll choose the beach, thanks, and I'll be re-reading the book.