Die, Mommie, Die!

Reviewers who complain that Charles Busch is not believable as a woman - comparing him unfavorably with Divine, et al - miss the point. Busch is in a class all his own, and comparing him to ANYBODY else limits the viewer's ability to enjoy what he offers.

He's not SUPPOSED to be a believable woman. He's like a precocious kid who loves to dress up and act like glamorous movie stars from the long-gone days when EVERYBODY overacted, when ALL stars were hams, before Marlon Brando changed the nature of screen acting forever.

Unless you can enter Busch's unique world on HIS terms, you won't like his movies. He's letting us watch him act out his glamorous fantasies, the same delightful fantasies he's been acting out since he was a child.

He's not a drag queen, he's not a female impersonator, he's not a cross-dresser or a transvestite. He is a MAN - but with the sweet, innocent, wide-eyed, starstruck heart of a little boy - who has a whole lot of fun dressing up like and acting like Bette Davis or Joan Crawford or Olivia de Havilland. He invites us to join in the game.

It's fun, unless you're trying to fit it into some mold it doesn't belong in.