If ever there was better casting than Jennifer Tilly as a homicidal, love-crazed baby doll with a heart of gold, I don’t know it. The brightness of the screen is blinding, but I navigate Netflix anyway and listen to the scenes I remember so well from childhood. When the crooked cop’s fingers itch to open the bag of stolen evidence — a pile of dismembered Good Guy parts — I hear Jennifer’s unmistakable lilt crackle through his cell phone. She cackles melodically, and I say the words with her, Curiosity killed the cat. She dispatches the “cat” with fishnet tights and a nail file. Later, Jennifer resurrects her dead serial killer boyfriend using Voodoo for Dummies. My queen is unashamed and hella resourceful. I think how, with this sight, I can’t even slice a zucchini or complete a large print crossword puzzle. But what’s the use of sitting around bemoaning eyes that feel like pin cushions, when the police chief is about to get a face full of shrapnel. Come to think of it, another two police officers get offed before the credits roll. Is this movie anti-copaganda, and clueless, preteen me never knew?! Maybe post-convalescence I’ll write an essay about the revelation, but for now, it’s just one more reason to fangirl Jennifer Tilly. When I remind people of the existence of Bride of Chucky, they always forget John Ritter, Kathy Najimy, Alexis Arquette, and baby Katherine Heigl are also in this gory masterpiece. Everything fades against the star power of a doll with bleach blonde hair, black lipstick, and a full wedding dress, quipping,
                                                                                                           Barbie, eat your heart out.