BARF BARF

I loved Jack Nicholson in “The Witches of Eastwick,” but can someone please tell me why the persistent Hollywood fascination with barf?

I first encountered cinematic regurgitation in “The Exorcist,” but nowadays even a “safe” movie like “Stand By Me” assaults us with Panavision puke. Let me tell you, there’s nothing like a fresh coat of vomit on my shoes to make my theater evening complete.

Now that Nicholson has legitimized the act, I’m pushing my own Streep-Hurt-De Niro vehicle, “Celebrity Upchuck.” One wonders if Tracy or Hepburn would have accepted such roles.

This is not a question of taste. It’s a question of cultivating the powerful and influential art of cinema as an art--to entertain, enlighten or empower us as people. There is no skill or honor or contribution to society in spending millions of dollars to show us what we can already find in our own toilets.

JOSEPH DENNETT

Colton