Who Framed Her Column About?

I’m sorry, but “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” is too much of a pseudo-silly, intellectual movie for my taste.

I know I’m supposed to like it. It’s the movie “everybody is talking about.”

And I did like it. It’s a technical marvel. I loved Bob Hoskins. I could watch Joanna Cassidy do anything--run around Central America with Nick Nolte, play straight person to Dabney Coleman, match breasts with Jessica Rabbit. But any movie that has a cinematic pun in the title is bound to be trouble.

To find out if I’m really supposed to like it, I phoned the New Yorker--yes, the New Yorker. I wanted to know if Pauline Kael liked the movie, but I didn’t want to wade through the verbal effluence of that renowned magazine to get an answer. Apparently even the people who work for the New Yorker can’t handle the Zen of their own verbiage.

“I want to know if Pauline Kael liked ‘Roger Rabbit,’ ” I asked whoever answers the phone if you ask for “Editorial Department . . . Movies. . . .”

“Pauline Kael is on vacation,” said the New Yorker. “Terrence Rafferty is taking her place. He reviewed it in the issue that’s on the stands now.”

“Well, did he like it?” I asked.

“Hold on,” the New Yorker said to me.

After several minutes, she took me off hold and said, “I can’t tell.”

“You can’t tell if your reviewer liked it?” I pushed.

“It’s long. Four columns. But, no, I can’t tell if he liked it.”

No, the New Yorker can’t even tell its own reviews from Shinola.

Well, the guy at the pizza place liked it. That would be one of the Yuppie Four I had the misfortune of being seated next to at the non-franchise pizza cafe. A pompous pop, an indulgent mom, and two worshiped, adored and carefully planned children, 2 and 4.

I hadn’t seen the movie yet when the dad started to lecture on cinema. “Did you girls like ‘Roger Rabbit’? Well, your mom and I certainly did,” he began, not giving the girls an opportunity to tell him they liked “Rambo III” better.

“What was your favorite part?” he continued, still not giving Sarah Jessica and Rachel Tamara a chance to speak.

“My favorite part was when Betty Boop appeared,” he said. “You see, Betty Boop was a major cartoon figure from the pre-color era of classic animation. . . . “

I wanted to sock him with a hot pepperoni. I had to plug up my ears and sing “Jingle Bells” while he recited his favorite lines. I knew then that I had to rush out to see “Roger Rabbit” before some other cinerati was seated next to me at a pizza place.

OK. I went. I saw. I enjoyed.

I watched “Roger Rabbit” the way I watch fireworks, going “ooh” and “aah.” And as soon as it was over, I wanted to be out of the parking lot before the traffic jam.

An hour later, I was hungry for a real movie. You know . . . one with feelings.

This is a cartoon for grown-ups, an “in” Hollywood joke. The fact that the kids can stand it does make you want to bow down and kiss the feet of Spielberg, Disney, et al. They provided me and my children with a few hours of family entertainment that wasn’t pure schlock.

Great. Now can we not talk about it?

One thing, though. The whole movie is based on the idea that evil people once tried to ruin Los Angeles by getting rid of public transportation and putting in freeways.

It’s only a movie. But who gets to tell my kids the bad guys won?