Baby Comes Home (1980) Dir: Waris Hussein

Baby Comes Home VHS sleeve features an image of a Polaroid picture split in two - the left side has a photo of a woman facing right, the right side a photo of a man facing left - between the two torn pieces is an image of a very young baby.
Kramer, Vs Kramer, Vs Kramer – Baby Comes Home…and is rarely seen from again as this WASP hive thrives with First World Problems!

Colleen (Satan’s Voice, Exorcist III) Dewhurst stars in what I was duped into thinking would be a Menopause Holocaust. The jacket cover leads you to believe that an aged mother, shitting another one out after a lengthy hiatus, will return home to an increasingly indifferent family, find out her husband’s been cheating, and take baby for a vehicular high dive into the San Francisco bay. This unfortunately is not the case, despite indications to the contrary early on, when Colleen gives us a Satan vocal cameo during labour.

The Kramer Family consists of a bunch of sickening Yippies, that collectively play ‘Greensleeves’ of an evening, with their eldest son’s mixed-race girlfriend filling in on lute duties, naturally. Not satisfied with having shat-out a healthy baby in middle age, and three others over a spawning career spanning two and a half decades, Mrs Kramer begins to bemoan that fact that she is approaching 48, and as a 47 year old mother of 4, is feeling a little bit unsexy. Her genius husband (Warren Oates), while ogling some tennis-tautened buns over lunch and his eldest daughter’s shoulder, decides to buy his wife membership to a fitness club and spa, with predictable results. Despite having been married for at least 20 years, and being pussy enough to admit to liking, and even regularly playing Greensleeves, he fails to have learned some basic skills in chick manipulation.

Further problems arise when; at 47 years old, and 10 weeks after laying her fourth flesh-egg, she isn’t quite up for Warren’s Oats. Obviously, this leads to a fairly severe bout of Agoraphobia (what?!). It is worth pointing out that, at this stage, we have barely heard or seen anything from the eponymous ‘baby’ for about 40 minutes. Not since Colleen and Warren went to her yuppie friends’ vineyard.

It could be there still, mewling at the moon, and bawling at the dawn.

A despondent, Warren goes for drinks alone at some bar, whereupon a silk-shirted, bullet-nippled temptress verbally bends and spreads. Drawing on the scintilla of loyalty in his otherwise sweat-beaded and misogynistic heart, he momentarily makes as though to stand, but slumps back down. The fade to black here is strongly indicative of Warren shooting his pedigree seed into the love gulch of the aforementioned. When we fade back in, Warren arrives home late, missing a date with his eldest daughter for a classical jam.

While dithering over whether to leave the house one day, the police show up, and announce to Colleen that her youngest son has climbed a tower and is looking like throwing himself off. ‘Baby-machine’ Colleen immediately leaves the house, and rides with police to the location. It is here she finds that it is in fact Emil from RoboCop, and not her son who is monkeying around the parapet with suicidal intent. Emil (her son’s best friend) got lousy SAT scores, and doesn’t see the point in going on. Colleen winds-up the old Concrete mixer vocal chords, and lets-fly with what someone clearly assumed would be an award winning monolgue (unfortunately someone forgot to inform the writer). Convincing herself of life’s worth in the process.

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