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When Elizabeth was a girl, she had a mischivous imaginary friend called Drop Dead Fred. Now grown up, Fred re-enters her life after her womanizing husband leaves her and she moves back in with her controlling mother. It is a zappy movie that emphasizes self-actualization.
The episodic flashbacks are cast in an unfunny Freudian light -- domineering mother, helpless hubby, the tragically withdrawn child. What a laugh riot!
The movie is no comic masterpiece, but it is consistently amusing in a way that sometimes reminded me of a kiddie picture and at other times of a more sophisticated comedy.
It tries too hard to mimic Beetlejuice, especially in British comic Rik Mayall's frantic performance as the title character -- Mayall is no Michael Keaton -- but it has a whimsical comic energy.
Drop Dead Fred is a therapeutic fable for people who believe that by becoming an adult, one inevitably loses the capacity to have fun. But the alternative it suggests is nothing short of horrifying.
Drop Dead Fred is an erratic stab at making madness sensible, a slapstick nightmare that goes too sane, that tries too hard to be both good and rotten.