Ah, Thinner (1996). The Stephen King movie where the scariest monster isn’t the gypsy curse, but the fatsuit budget. Directed by Tom Holland (the guy who gave us Child’s Play and apparently wanted to follow it with “Pie: The Movie”), it’s a body horror flick where the “body” is Robert John Burke, and the “horror” is watching him shrink faster than Blockbuster’s stock value. It’s also got Kari Wuhrer as a slingshot-wielding Romani vixen, which means the movie is automatically worth watching, because Kari Wuhrer could make a colonoscopy look like high art.
A Lawyer, a Road, and Bad Timing
Billy Halleck (Burke) is a fat-cat lawyer, literally—he’s stuffed into a Greg Cannom fatsuit like Jabba the Hutt on retainer. While driving, his wife Heidi decides that traffic safety can take a backseat to roadside oral sex, and Billy, distracted, plows over an elderly Romani woman like she’s roadkill. You know, just another Tuesday in Connecticut. He’s acquitted thanks to some good ol’ boy corruption (a judge friend, a dirty cop, etc.), but Grandpa Romani Tadzu Lempke isn’t impressed. He strokes Billy’s face and mutters the magic word: “Thinner.” Honestly, the way Michael Constantine hisses it, it sounds less like a curse and more like an aggressive Jenny Craig ad.
The Diet Plan from Hell
Billy starts shedding pounds. At first, he’s thrilled—screw Atkins, all you need is a curse and a corpse. But then the pounds keep dropping, like the film’s box office returns, and suddenly Billy looks less like a proud Weight Watchers spokesperson and more like Nosferatu after a juice cleanse. His doctor suspects cancer. His wife suspects an affair. And Billy suspects that maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to hit the accelerator with his pants around his ankles.
Meanwhile, the other conspirators get their curses too. The judge melts into a lizard, the sheriff sprouts oozing sores that look like low-budget Nickelodeon slime, and both commit suicide. The makeup team probably had a blast, but the audience is left wondering if this is horror or just an elaborate PSA for hygiene.
Kari Wuhrer, Goddess of the Sling
Enter Kari Wuhrer as Gina Lempke, granddaughter of the curse-hurling Tadzu. Kari plays a Romani femme fatale who shoots Billy in the hand with a slingshot, because apparently curses aren’t enough. Watching Kari Wuhrer in this film is like watching a panther prowl through a PetSmart—she doesn’t belong there, but you’re grateful she showed up. Every scene with her is electric. Every scene without her feels like a Weight Watchers infomercial directed by Satan.
Mafia to the Rescue
Billy, desperate, calls in Richie “The Hammer” Ginelli, played by Joe Mantegna. That’s right: Billy’s diet plan now includes organized crime. Ginelli shows up, smokes a thousand cigarettes, and proceeds to terrorize the Romani camp like Tony Soprano on a field trip. Poisoned dogs, kidnappings, fake FBI stunts—it’s like Goodfellas meets The Biggest Loser. And honestly? Joe Mantegna is having the time of his life. His character adds the only real fun to the movie, because when you’ve got mafiosi involved, you know pie murder is about to get serious.
The Strawberry Pie of Doom
Finally, Tadzu agrees to lift the curse with a ritual involving Billy’s blood baked into a strawberry pie. The rules are simple: if someone else eats the pie, they die instead. Tadzu urges Billy to “eat it himself, with dignity.” But Billy is a lawyer, which means dignity is the first thing he plea-bargained away. Instead, he gleefully feeds the pie to his wife, whom he suspects of cheating. The next morning, she’s a corpse, crust crumbs on her lips like a gruesome Pillsbury ad.
But then Billy realizes his daughter had some pie too. Oops. Suddenly the whole “curse weight loss” thing doesn’t feel so celebratory. In the movie’s final moments, Billy is about to eat the rest himself when Dr. Mike shows up at the door. Billy, smirking, offers him a slice. Because if you’re going to hell, might as well bring a friend.
Why It Weirdly Works
Now, this movie got trashed by critics. And sure, it’s goofy, politically incorrect, and about as subtle as a pie to the face. But here’s why it deserves a darkly humorous thumbs-up:
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The Premise – An evil diet plan? That’s brilliant. It’s horror for anyone who’s ever tried SlimFast and failed.
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The Makeup – Burke’s transformation from Jabba to Skeletor is genuinely impressive, if not entirely convincing. The prosthetics earned Saturn Award recognition for good reason.
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Joe Mantegna – He’s basically in another movie altogether, but thank God. He chews scenery better than Billy chews pie.
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Kari Wuhrer – The woman could turn Ishtar into cult gold. Here, she elevates every frame she’s in.
Why It’s Still Ridiculous
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Robert John Burke – He’s fine, but John Candy was King’s original pick. Imagine Candy’s tragicomic brilliance melting into horror—now that would have been terrifying. Instead, we get Burke looking like a man who lost a bet with a fat suit.
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Tone Confusion – Is this serious horror? Camp? A dark comedy about dieting? The movie doesn’t know, so it stumbles through all three like a cursed buffet.
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The Ending – That final smirk with the pie is supposed to be chilling, but it mostly makes you wonder if you’re watching a Little Debbie commercial.
Legacy of Pie
Thinner made a modest box office splash, then quickly slid into VHS obscurity. But it lives on as a cult oddity. People remember the grotesque makeup, the absurdity of its diet-from-hell premise, and of course, Kari Wuhrer. Because any movie with Kari Wuhrer automatically gets an upgrade—she’s like cinematic hot sauce: pour her on and suddenly the blandest dish has some heat.
Final Verdict
Thinner isn’t a great movie. It isn’t even a good movie by normal standards. But it’s an oddly entertaining one—half body horror, half mafia flick, and half Kari Wuhrer glam session (yes, that’s three halves, math was never this movie’s strength). It’s the cinematic equivalent of eating pie for breakfast: you know it’s bad for you, but damned if it doesn’t hit the spot.
