“The Witches of Eastwick” (1987) is an ugly little troll of a movie hiding behind a trio of screen hotties (Cher, Pfeiffer, Sarandon). It’s Jack Nicholson at his worst. He’s a sweet-talking stranger who rolls into town and starts sweeping women off their feet (hijinks ensue). It’s not hard to figure out the secret he’s hiding. It’s also not hard to imagine this being a cinematic parody of Nicholson’s actual, real-life romantic relationships. I mean, the dude is gross looking, but he’s talented and rich and can seemingly get laid whenever he wants. I sympathized with all the on-screen vomiting.