War of the Roses, TheAcerbic, sadistic comedy in which a divorcing couple (Douglas and Turner) battle each other for ownership of their marital home. And very nice it looks too: glossily photographed by Burum, clearly worth destroying your partner for. So DeVito pits Douglas's nasty tom-cat misogyny (he pursues his campaign by urinating over a fish his spouse is serving to dinner guests) against Turner's sour-mouthed voluptuousness. The result is a deliciously cynical battle of the sexes, some of whose skirmishes are eye-wateringly unchivalrous. Hepburn and Tracy would never have stooped to such tactics, but this remains one of the most durable - and characteristic - comedies of the 1980s.
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