You know when Bette Midler wormed her way into my heart? It was this little movie called Hocus Pocus. After that virgin, Max, lit the Black Flame Candle and resurrected her, she was just the baddest witch on the block. Little brat that I was, I really related to Winnie, always having to boss around her two idiot sisters (Kathy Najimy! Young SJP!). Also, Winnie loved her bo-ook, and I was a fan of books myself. Maybe not enchanted spellbooks bound in human skin, but whatev. I think I actually begged my two childhood best friends to go with me as the Sanderson sisters for Halloween one year. They weren’t having it. Probably they sensed it was just my excuse for a power trip (true stuff). I went as Wednesday Addams instead.
Oh, but back to Bette. What really cemented Midler in my affections was The Rose, which I only saw last year on a whim (Thanks, On Demand, you changed my life!). Bette Midler plays the tragic, Joplin-like rock star Rose, a dervish of raw power, talent, and destruction. And man oh man, can that lady rock out. I don’t really follow her Vegas career or her comedy stuff nowadays, but I beg of you, give gay-bathhouse-loving Bette circa 1979 a chance. Also, she was kinda sizzlin’, was she not?