Death Becomes Her
★★★
I kicked off October’s spooky season with something that felt festive but not terrifying—Death Becomes Her. It seemed like a perfect choice: a dark comedy with just enough supernatural flair to fit the mood, but still something I could watch with my teenager. Somehow, despite growing up in the early ’90s and seeing so many Robert Zemeckis films, I had never seen this one.
Right away, the film oozes that early ’90s energy—lavish sets, big performances and a visual style that feels halfway between Beetlejuice and a perfume commercial. It’s campy, glossy and knowingly absurd. My teenage daughter, however, wasn’t having it. She found the effects “horrible,” while I actually thought a lot of them held up surprisingly well. For a 1992 release, the digital effects were groundbreaking, even if they now feel delightfully dated.
That said, I had a hard time fully settling into the movie’s vibe. Death Becomes Her operates in a heightened world where death is bendable, bodies are breakable and vanity is eternal. It’s less about horror and more about the poisonous pursuit of youth and beauty—a theme that still resonates today. If anything, it’s more relevant than ever. You could easily reimagine this as a modern story about influencers chasing digital immortality.
The trio of stars—Meryl Streep, Goldie Hawn and Bruce Willis—are clearly having a blast. Streep and Hawn nail the over-the-top rivalry, bringing both bite and glamour to their roles. Bruce Willis, though maybe too handsome to fully pull off the schlubby husband, commits completely to the physical comedy.
Still, as fun as it can be, Death Becomes Her sometimes gets bogged down by exposition and a strange underground subplot that doesn’t age as gracefully as its central theme. I laughed a few times, but I also found myself waiting for it to click—and it never quite did.
Overall, I’d call it okay but interesting. Not my favorite ’90s comedy, but one I can understand others loving for its bold weirdness and biting satire. It’s one of those movies that probably gets better once you know exactly what kind of absurd world you’re walking into. For me, that first watch was a little too uneven—but undeniably memorable.
