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Tag: Based on a True Story

Because Mommy Works: The Nightmare of Having a Self-Sufficient Mother

Anne Archer is a persecuted parent in Because Mommy Works.

From Stella Dallas to Kramer vs. Kramer, there’s no tearjerker quite like the separation of parent and child, and Because Mommy Works (1994) is no exception. An NBC production that found a second home on Lifetime, it could more accurately be called Because Daddy’s a Dipsh*t. And while its plot and resolution are likely to astonish or even amuse younger or more sheltered viewers who don’t take it seriously, the ’90s were indeed still a time when mothers, unlike fathers, were legally penalized for working or attaining higher education.

Anne Archer plays Abby Forman, a cardiac care nurse and mother to six-year-old Willie (Casey Wurzbach of Gramps). Her ex-husband, Ted (John Heard, a specialist of sorts in detestable characters), has spent nearly half of Willie’s life largely absent from it, doing whatever he pleases, but believes he has fulfilled his fatherly obligations by never missing a child support payment. Now remarried to homemaker Claire (Ashley Crow, who makes the most of a small but complex role), he reappears to again hassle Abby for having the temerity to think that she, like him or any other working father, can effectively parent while also holding a job.

The Deliberate Stranger: Before There Was Netflix…

Mark Harmon in The Deliberate Stranger (1986).

Netflix, the streaming giant once poised to join or overtake HBO as a premiere destination for prestige programming, now happily wallows in lurid filth—and, sadly, I don’t mean that in the best spirit of the phrase. Whether it’s the new Marilyn Monroe film (which I’m avoiding for reasons better articulated by Michael Campochiaro of The Starfire Lounge), or an endless parade of deeply exploitative true crime ‘documentaries’ that aren’t worthy of the name, I regularly receive promo emails from Netflix touting irredeemable content.

Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story, one of its most recent ghoulish offerings, is produced by Ryan Murphy, a titan of tabloid tragedy who has never met a murder he wasn’t happy to exploit for profit. Even as real-life families of victims called the series re-traumatizing, it was quickly watched in its entirety by more than 56 million households. I’ve heard more than one viewer justify their decision by insisting they’re merely interested in abnormal psychology, which is absurd. No one is bingeing a 10-part series about a cannibal weeks before Halloween for academic reasons.

Schlocky Fatal Memories Trivializes Abuse

Dean Stockwell and Shelley Long in a scene from Fatal Memories (1992).

The best I can say about Fatal Memories (1992), a telefilm about recovered memories, is at least Shelley Long doesn’t have multiple personalities in it— watching her cry for 90 minutes as just one person is exhausting enough. (Masochists who want to see her grapple with that contentious diagnosis can consult the 1990 miniseries Voices Within: The Lives of Truddi Chase.)

Based on a controversial true story, Fatal Memories follows suburban homemaker Eileen Franklin Lipsker (Long, porcelain-skinned and chin quivering bravely throughout) as she recovers long-buried memories of an abusive childhood. The triggers can be as mundane as bathing or opening the refrigerator. Whatever your take on repressed memories, a once-popular concept that has since been scientifically discredited, I think we can agree this movie is best forgotten.

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