As acidic a take on Hollywood narcissism, PR-generated “redemption arcs”, and Tinseltown buffoonery as one can get, DEATH BECOMES HER gives a proper sendoff to the era of the rapscallion-Zemeckis who reveled in surface-level bitterness and throat-catching laughter. The film centers on self-obsessed actress Madeline (Meryl Streep), her aspiring writer friend Helen (Goldie Hawn), and an alcoholic plastic surgeon named Ernest Menville (Bruce Willis), who breaks off his engagement to Helen once he’s easily won over by the flimsy charms of Madeline. Deeply depressed, Helen bides her time in a fat suit until she can get her revenge on Madeline. 14 years later, Madeline and Ernest’s marriage is rapidly crumbling, until Helen re-emerges into both of their lives, looking more youthful than before, and making Ernest think he’s made a grave mistake. This prompts Madeline to seek out the source of Helen’s magical makeover, bringing her to an absolutely smoking Isabella Rossellini, who gives Madeline the opportunity to try this miracle drug out on herself. The film barrels past the usual critiques of cosmetic surgery, to show these women being treated like the used cars Kurt Russell was juicing a decade earlier for Zemeckis, as Ernest lathers their bodies with cheap car paint to help preserve their remaining layers of outer-beauty. Zemeckis utilizes about every cinematic tool/trick in the book to tell one of the blackest comedies about the town that would only a few years later come to embrace the director whole-heartedly, and award him a few of those little gold statues they so lovingly cling to like the fading embers of youth.