DOLLS! DOLLS! DOLLS! BY STEPHEN REBELLO

If you were to ask me which screen adaptation, big or small, I do fancy best I probably would say TVs LACE. Nothing beats this highly expensive-looking trashy miniseries of 1984. On the other hand, if I had to choose my favorite big-screen adaptation thus far? Only one title comes to mind, VALLEY OF THE DOLLS. Oh yes, this 1967 infamous film starring three unforgettable (not always in a good way) actresses and one mean son of a bitch of a director (according to many witnesses) is right up there with the best of them. Mind you, the best for me are mostly over-the-top campy fares such as THE LONELY LADY, MOMMIE DEAREST, BEYOND THE FOREST. But there’s something about VALLEY OF THE DOLLS that surpasses them all. Call it stylish; call it gripping, call it unintentionally funny. Whatever it is, I just can’t get enough.

That’s why when I learned that BAD MOVIES WE LOVE co-author Stephen Rebello had an upcoming book about the making of VALLEY OF THE DOLLS I just couldn’t stand still. This film has been my guiding light to bad cinema ever since I first saw it back when I was still a kid. It was because of that film that I discovered later on how much involving trashy books really were, and still are since I go on running this blog decades later. In other words I was a really happy trooper. I immediately rushed to the NetGalley site in the hopes that the book would be available to review. It was. I clicked for an ARC and waited for a response. And I waited and waited and waited. After almost a month I gave up. Clearly the publisher, Penguin, was unimpressed by my request. 

Then COVID-19 entered our lives. For two weeks my husband and I were out of it. Suffice to say I didn’t even think about DOLLS! DOLLS! DOLLS! All I wanted was for us to get better. We eventually did. Then I started to see the book on social media. The itch to get a copy got to me again. So here I am post-COVID cured and ready to review this title, which I finally purchased despite having been dissed by Penguin Books (shame on you!).

I finished DOLLS! DOLLS! DOLLS! in no time. It was that good.  Like the focused film, it pulls you right in, starting with a teaser involving a star-studded cruise ship and the ill-prepared screen presentation of VALLEY OF THE DOLLS. Then it’s a quick bio of Jackie Susann which, if you have already read LOVELY ME: THE LIFE OF JACQUELINE SUSANN by Barbara Seaman, won’t be anything new to you. But once we get into the producing and financing of the film then it’s jackpot all the way. What I enjoyed most—though it was hard to pick from all the juicy chapters—was the never-before-seen round-up of the first two screenplays. I have never heard of them before and was pleasantly surprised on how different they were from the finished product, especially the first one written by famed-author and first-time screenwriter for the equally bad THE OSCAR (1967) Harlan Ellison. I really would have loved to see that version on-screen.

Then it’s the behind the scene shenanigans surrounding the many frictions between the stars and the director, and of course the day by day on-set account of what led to the firing of Judy Garland as Helen Lawson. That part is harder to take, especially if you’re a Garland fan. The way she was badly treated was, in my opinion, unforgivable. Then we come to the post production of the film and the many strategies the studio takes to get it seen. You’ll also get a kick out of finally knowing the reason why singer Dionne Warwick’s rendition of The Theme from Valley of the Dolls was omitted from the movie soundtrack album (copyright issue). Just like any common sense was omitted when it came to make and sell this lovable but accidentally silly film. But in the end it did have the last laugh, for we are still talking about it, thanks mostly nowadays to Mr Rebello who wrote one hell of a book. And praise heavens for that, for I wouldn’t be sitting here and rave about DOLLS! DOLLS! DOLLS! So do yourself a favor and get this gem. You’ll definitely thank me later.

Until next post—Martin

THE WOMEN OF ‘THE LOVE MACHINE’ (1971)

Last evening my hubby and I decided to re-visit a fave film of mine, one that I have not watched for a very long time but reviewed on this blog in 2012. It was none other than the 1971 screen adaptation of Jacqueline Susann’s mega bestseller THE LOVE MACHINE, directed by the guy who brought us The 42^nd Academy Awards the year prior, Jack Haley Jr. I have no clue as to why executive producer and Susann’s other half Irving Mansfield have opted for this man, but Haley sure made everything look bright and groovy, never a bad thing in my opinion when it comes to early ‘70s showbiz over-the-top dramas. 

The first thing I remembered while watching the film is how happy a kid I had been the first time I had set eyes on it. I was around 10 I believe and I had just spotted one of The Price is Right original beauties Anitra Ford. She was in the fashion TV montage, broadcasted through the living room of the Judith Austin character, wife of the head of the IBC network who eventually makes and breaks Robin Stone’s career. But I’m ahead of myself. Let’s get back to stunning Anitra Ford for a second. I was a major Price is Right fan at the time and was simply astounded catching her in the film. I stayed glued to the screen in the hopes of seeing her again but to no avail. But it barely mattered, for by then I was already caught up into the whole cinematic debauchery. 

For those who have yet to see it, THE LOVE MACHINE focuses on Robin Stone, a TV reporter who sleeps his way to the top. Of course no female character emerges unscathed on his fast and sexy journey to get there. One person who learns this the hard way is sweet but dim-witted top model Amanda. By the time she realizes her predicament she has already been used and abused by him (a hard slap on the face). And that’s where it gets tricky, folks. Had the role been given to a better actress her pivotal downward spiral scene would have been something to watch. As is with then-newcomer Jody Wexler at the reins, she barely makes waves. Oh make no mistake Wexler is still fun to watch but she can hardly hold a candle to the other seasoned performers sharing the screen. It’s no surprise that THE LOVE MACHINE ended up being her only film. She passed away in 2013 at the young age of 68, according to IMDB.  

In the novel, the character of Maggie, another one of Stone’s conquests, is fully developed. In the film, however, she has three scenes. In the first one we learn that Maggie (Sharon Farrell) has already been used by Stone when she admits to have ‘auditioned’ for him for a project from which she is now being axed (reminiscent of Neely O’Hara’s abrupt exit from a Broadway musical in VALLEY OF THE DOLLS). She seems angrier for having been denied the role than for having used the casting couch to better her career. It is further confirmed when Stone chance meets her at the infamous party scene brawl at the end of the film. There she claims to having finally ‘landed’ a few roles, which makes Stone very proud. Later on, when Stone is in need of a pick me up after losing everything she offers him a lift (in other words, her help) in her expensive red-colored Jaguar, which definitely shows a somewhat lucrative career on her part. What kind of a career, that we are never sure. Stone still chooses to reject her offer. One thing we are positive though is that there clearly is a kinship between the two characters, one that will probably never come to fruition. I don’t recall if they end up an item in the book. I’ll have to check it out and come back to you.  

One female character who ends up not being on Robin Stone’s sexual radar is ‘celebrity fucker’ Ethel Evans who also works at the network. Her reaction to his cold rejection after making a pass at him? ‘You don’t know what you’re missing, buster’. Of all the women in the film Ethel is the trashiest and, strangely enough, the most likable. She knows what she is and makes no apology for it. When plain comedian du jour Christie Lane (the effective Shecky Green) makes an honest woman out of her Ethel finally feels vindicated, a stepping stone from her wild, wild ways.  She may not have landed prince charming but is very much satisfied with her newfound posh life. Besides, now that she is with child and still manages to wear the pants in the family what more could she ever want? Actress Maureen Arthur is perfect in the role. Her facial reaction to everything her clumsy husband does or says is pure comedic timing gold. We can’t see anybody else playing Ethel. Kudos to the great Miss Arthur who, BTW, is still alive and kicking as we speak. 

That leaves Judith Austin (Dyan Cannon), who, if you remember, is the powerful wife of IBC network owner Greg Austin. Clearly you wouldn’t want to mess with her, but Robin Stone does, big time. When he ends up shunning her Judith sees red. So she vindictively sets his bedroom on fire while Stone is in the shower with two other ladies. Later on while being ignored by Stone at that infamous lavish party held by famed gay photographer Jerry Nelson (played to perfection by David Hemmings) she discovers a misplaced self-inscribed bracelet belonging to Jerry but given by close friend Stone. Believing that the rumor mill is true, that Stone swings both ways, she is hell-bent on destroying his career. What follows is the zaniest cat and mouse chase in film history as Stone tries his hardest to retrieve the piece of evidence that will ruin him. He eventually does get it back just before the cops and the press show up but he still ends up losing everything in the end. What a guy to do next? Moving on, as singer Dionne Warwick so melodiously sings during the end credits. Indeed, the film makes you think that you have not seen the last of him and we certainly believe it, for he is Robin Stone after all, THE LOVE MACHINE.

Until next post—Martin 

‘YARGO’ BY JACQUELINE SUSANN

YARGO (1979, Bantam) is the kind of novel I would never have approached had it not been written by trash connoisseur Jacqueline Susann—or by the likes of Jackie Susann, come to think of it. I mean, let’s be real here, Sci-Fi has always been a bore to me. The genre and I just don’t gel. So I was a bit reticent in starting this one. Turns out my worries were for nothing, for I found it to be very delightful indeed.  

The story is rather simple: a beautiful girl is mistakenly abducted by aliens and ultimately falls in love with their leader who strangely looks like actor Yul Brynner (Google him or scroll down to the French edition pic). The planet they take her to is called Yargo. In a space (pun intended of course) of 347 pages we follow her journey as she goes through the motion of discovering the planet, its inhabitants and their ways of life. A little mundane in imagination perhaps, but touched by the Susann pen it is anything but. The author hooks you right away with the misadventures of her sweet protagonist which, BTW, almost read like a romance comic book magazine from the ’50s and ‘60s. I can easily see it as a bi-monthly thing where we discover further on if our heroine will finally settle in Yargo for good or be brought back to earth to forget all about this close encounter of the Susann kind.  

Speaking of the author, she wrote this one way before VALLEY OF THE DOLLS, during the mid-‘50s, if I remember correctly. It was then called THE STARS SCREAM, and she tried to get it published without success. It was only after her death in 1974 that if finally saw the light of day, most certainly to cash in on the Susann name. But, like I said, contrary to what some may believe, YARGO is surprisingly effective. Of course you have to dig Jacqueline Susann to really get this one. We’re not talking about Alan Dean Foster here. YARGO is just a quick and satisfying—and yes, silly—read that will make anyone on the Susann band wagon smile and appreciate her range as a trashy novelist.  

One last thing before we part yet again. YARGO can even be taken as a continuing story of January Wayne from ONCE IS NOT ENOUGH, Susann’s third consecutive #1 best-seller from 1973. Remember, the novel left us to believe that her sudden disappearance was the cause of an abduction by a UFO. Well, there you have it—in all its sleazy glory no less—the unofficial continued drama of poor January in a galaxy far far away. Makes some of you drool, doesn’t it? 

Until next post—Martin  

French edition 

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‘LOVELY ME: THE LIFE OF JACQUELINE SUSANN’ BY BARBARA SEAMAN

By the end of the 1980s I, like many of you, just couldn’t get enough of trashy books. Novels like HOLLYWOOD WIVES, THE LONELY LADY, SINS, SCRUPLES, RAGE OF ANGELS ruled my days. The glitterier they were the happier I was with them. Yes, I was that addicted. Of course I was in the minority in my group of well-read friends but I didn’t care. No, that’s not true. I did care but, try as I might, I just couldn’t control my trashy urges. I wanted to love literary greats but I just couldn’t do it. Like my own sexuality I rather enjoyed marching to the beat of my own drum. So color me happily surprised when all of a sudden LOVELY ME: THE LIFE OF JACQUELINE SUSANN (1987,  Morrow) by one Barbara Seaman came my way. Not only was I ecstatic about it but I truly believed that the gods of paperback sleaze had literally confirmed my decision to always stay unique.   

LOVELY ME: THE LIFE OF JACQUELINE SUSANN is as dishy as anything Susann had ever written: jealousy, revenge, obsession, incurable diseases…  Seaman goes through with a fine-tooth comb the tumultuous life of this controversial author who, despite no love from the critics, still ended up breaking sales records three times in a row. From her humble beginnings as an inspiring actress to her successful years after the release of VALLEY OF THE DOLLS, Susann’s marginal frame of mind plus the heavy publicity junket for DOLLS and her subsequent work—all generated by her then-hubby manager publicist Irving Mansfield—made her a household name. Of course, her rise to fame came with many blows, one of which most definitely fatal as she ended up losing her battle with cancer in 1974. But leaving her marks she did, becoming the biggest best-selling author of her generation. 

Like her classic novel, I own two copies of LOVELY ME: THE LIFE OF JACQUELINE SUSANN, one to get busy with; the other in mint condition on my busy bookshelf. I can tell you that I re-read it every few years, if not in its entirety then at least for the juiciest parts. My favorite one of course is her rise to fame. In between her locking horns with publishers, movie directors, the press, and other celebrities (like Truman Capote who infamously called her a ‘truck driver in drag’ on TV) she manages to be quite endearing toward her sometimes rocky relationships with her husband and her institutionalized autistic child (her biggest heartbreak). A lot of readers have noticed the use of too many gay slurs in her novels and I tend to agree, but I always felt that it was mostly used for shock values more than anything else. Besides, Susann has been known to take a dip in the lady pond herself. According to the bio, that is.  

If you’re into trashy greats and have read or are planning to read all of Susann’s work then you must pick up LOVELY ME: THE LIFE OF JACQUELINE SUSANN. You’ll be in nostalgic bliss just following the rise and fall of a go-getter who not only enthralled readers with her juicy tales of the elite but who also managed to finally and rightfully become what she always wanted to be: a star. Barbara Seaman sure loves her subject and we couldn’t thank her enough for that.

Until next post—Martin

1996 softcover 

‘VALLEY OF THE DOLLS’ BY JACQUELINE SUSANN

After almost a decade focusing primarily on camp I just couldn’t go on without honing in on this highly-sought title, especially since it’s celebrating its 50th anniversary this month with a brand new edition from Grove Press. Yes, my little dollies, the classic of all classics about three desperate beauties reaching for the top in love, work, and pills is back in print to commemorate its sheer fabulousness. The first time I ever held a paperback copy in my hand I was around 17, working at this pizza place answering phones.  After rush hour, which ended around 9 PM, I was allowed to read my eyes out if I wanted to, as long as I did my chores. That’s how cool my bosses were. I already knew about this novel since I had previously seen the movie adaptation, but what a rush it still was having the chance to get acquainted with it. I had read it many times over since that faithful day but nothing compares to that first connection between the book and reader.

Let’s not mince words here. VALLEY OF THE DOLLS is the grandest, most important piece of work to have ever been published in this genre. Never mind its many carbon copy successors. Nothing surpasses Jackie Susann’s baby. Oh, many have tried, some have even come close but in the end only one novel comes up on top, and we wouldn’t have it in any other way. Why? Simple: VALLEY OF THE DOLLS is as addictive as the pills those three leading ladies gladly take. If you have yet to try this novel I’m warning you it is one effective buzz. Like I, you’ll probably never be the same once consumed. I still have long-term effects as you can probably imagine just by navigating throughout my many reviews on this blog. Before this title came around I was a total horror geek, jumping from one scary read to the next, but once I got my hands on this juicy novel, well, the rest, as they say, is history.  



Never have I felt so in synch following the troubles of these protagonists. All three succeeded in charming their ways into my life as if nothing else mattered. It was the first time that I truly experienced what we call a compelling read. It also made me realize that VALLEY OF THE DOLLS was the start of a new phase in my life, one that would eventually involve my own sexuality. You could say that this celebrated novel was my first dib into this so-called gay lifestyle of mine. I say so-called because I never considered myself a label. To me, loving a guy is just that, love. Gender barely matters. It’s the same with my reading choices. I never think of myself as a lover of women’s fiction. I just follow my instincts to what really appeals to me, and suffice to say VALLEY OF THE DOLLS and the likes do, big-time.  

The novel got scathing reviews when it first hit the shelves in 1966. Yet that scarcely stopped people from investing their good-earned money in it. It stayed number one on the New-York Times best-seller list for an unprecedented 28 weeks. 28. It would be impossible to have that same longevity nowadays with the current market being overflowed with titles (yes, I’m talking mostly about you Amazon self-publishing services). But back then, my god, talk about a ground breaking success…   

Not a week goes by without me hearing something about VALLEY OF THE DOLLS, whether it’s on TV or during a conversation among friends or in some article from the trades. The name and its author are forever imprinted in our minds. Yes, I’ve come to appreciate other genres as the years went on. Heck, I can even say that I’m well-read in my spare time, but nothing will ever come close to my addiction to this type of a novel. It’s in my DNA as I’m sure it is in yours if you’ve reached this part without nodding off. Susann may be already gone (she succumbed to cancer in ’74) but she will forever be remembered from people like us who cherish everything she has ever churned out.  How can we not? She is the queen of trash after all.

 

Until next post—Martin  

 

 

 

 

'JACQUELINE SUSANN'S SHADOW OF THE DOLLS' BY RAE LAWRENCE

 

 

 

 

If you’re like me, Jacqueline Susann’s VALLEY OF THE DOLLS — the novel — is to you what Chopin’s Minute Waltz is to many others:  sheer perfectness.  I mean no one can really call themselves a connoisseur of sleaze if he or she has not read and enjoyed this timeless classic.  It’s the rule of the law, period. The glitz and glam subgenre in modern literature has really started with VALLEY OF THE DOLLS.  Without Susann’s impeccable savoir-faire, we probably wouldn’t have had Collins, Krantz, Sheldon, Steel and so on and so forth. So we owe big time to this author.  

  

When I heard in the early 2000s that a sequel was in the works my excitement hit a new high.  Mind you, my trash-o-meter was already at its peak but this news, as all news regarding Susann for that matter, couldn’t have come at a better time.  I had just finished re-reading VALLEY OF THE DOLLS for the hundredth time and was yearning for someone to discover an unpublished Susann manuscript of some sort.  Suffice to say, I ran to the bookstore the day JACQUELINE SUSANN’S SHADOW OF THE DOLLS hit the shelves.  As I began reading, I promised myself that I would avoid comparing it to the original.   An impossible task of course, for one cannot go through SHADOW OF THE DOLLS without making some form of thought or connection to the first novel. It is a sequel after all. 
 

In it we find most of the characters (minus the one of Jennifer who took her own life but is still mentioned throughout the book) in the big hair, big shoulder pads era of the late ‘80s which is quite unexpected since the setting of VALLEY OF THE DOLLS starts around the mid ‘40s, or something like that. According to my calculation, Neely would be around 60-70 in the 1980s. But guess what: in this new novel she is still young and vivacious (barely 10 years older) and trying to make another comeback in Hollywood. Anne and Lyon are still married and have a teenage daughter but he still sleeps around, and yes, Anne's still popping pills. Anyway, to make a long story short, everyone is miserable and can barely manage their lives. Yet as in the original oeuvre, their personal struggles make for a fun and engaging read despite the time cheating mishap.   
 

SHADOW OF THE DOLLS would have made a wonderful prime time miniseries but since the frothy kind has fizzled out in the last decade or two, one has to settle for glam in print.   Thank heavens we still have novels like SHADOW OF THE DOLLS here to quench our thirst.  It may not be as engaging as the first one but it still manages to bring forth excitement and originality to a bunch of memorable characters we thought would never see the light of day again. So kudos to Rae Lawrence (really Ruth Liebermann, director of Account Marketing at Penguin/Random House in New-York) for having succeeded in channeling the Susann touch, and let's hope another sequel hits the printers real soon.

 

 

 

 

 

Until next post—Martin

 

US paperback edition

 

 

JACQUELINE SUSANN’S VALLEY OF THE DOLLS “1981”

I’ve been waiting eagerly for the release of the TV remake of JACQUELINE SUSANN’S VALLEY OF THE DOLLS on DVD, but no luck so far. And I’m not talking about the forgettable ‘90s late-night soap opera that starred Sally Kirkland and her  hair but about the two-parter mini-series event that came our way in 1981 via the CBS affiliates. The one executively produced by Susann’s hubby Irving Mansfield. I was a young teen back then. I had already seen the original on TV with my mom (I talk about it here) and I just couldn’t believe I might experience that same camp appeal all over again. Because let’s get this straight: VALLEY OF THE DOLLS, whether the film or the novel,  is by far the guiltiest of guilty pleasures, and just the thought of settling myself in front of the TV screen for this new version gave me goosebumps all over.   

From the moment Dionne Warwick What Becomes of Love cues in at the start of the mini-series, I knew I was in good hands. Not only is the piece as catchy as the title song from the original but also just as syrupy; so much so that many like moi still wish the song was available somewhere (hint, hint, Ms. Warwick). But moving on, of course the whole plot is about the same: good girl gets caught up into the world of show business and suffers greatly. And orbiting around her is a whole bunch of colorful but ever-so troubled characters. The difference in this one, however, is that most appear a little less one dimensional. Take Ann, for example. She’s not just a victim of her bad choices but a survivor as well. She does not retreat back where she came from to mend her broken heart or rely on drugs and alcohol as the character did in the 1967 version.  She faces her problems head on, as do many others throughout the mini-series five-hour run.   

Like in the original, VALLEY OF THE DOLLS “1981” brings to light a big chunk of melodrama found in the Susann novel, not to mention some extra goodies since this TV presentation is also based on material omitted from the book. But all the characters you’ve come to know are there, from Ann to Jennifer to non-gay (!) Ted Casablanca. And if you look quick enough you’ll even see a young Nathan Lane as a stage manager (reminiscent of the small role Richard Dreyfuss had in the original). The part of Helen Lawson is played by silver screen beauty Jean Simmons.  She really nails down the role of the jealous fading star, from her hard facial expressions to her dismissive gestures.   Susan Hayward would be proud. Wish the same could be said for Lisa Hartman Black’s performance as crazy-ass Neely O’Hara. As much as she’s lovable on screen, her portrayal of an insecure, pill-popping songbird is a little bland. Don’t get me wrong, when she goes ape shit she does it in a big way (that includes the infamous wig throwing in the bathroom stall) but the end results are not as rewarding as they should be.

The whole production is very ‘80s kitsch, from the cheesy song numbers (most interpreted by Hartman) to the casting choices (Bert Convy, Gary Collins, David Birney…). But at times its budget seems far less generous (though I may be wrong on this) as certain scenes look awfully restrained, in need of some pizazz. The acting overall is quite decent, the most noteworthy being Catherine Hicks and Veronica Hamel as Ann and Jennifer respectively. Both bring a certain depth otherwise missed by Barbara Parkins and Sharon Tate in the original. As much as I wanted to dig this version, I got to say that it left me a little cold.  Perhaps it was the constant comparison I made to the 1967 film every time anyone appeared onscreen. It never succeeded in making me forget the original, and that’s where the faults lie mostly.  That said I’d still indeed get this well-made mini-series if it officially ever came to DVD. Why shouldn’t I? Fool of me to ever pass up the chance of owning part of a legacy taken from the Jacqueline Susann library. I barely think she’d have hated that version like she supposedly did the first one but she would have wanted someone else to take another shot at it, I’m sure.  

Until next post—Martin

'JACQUELINE SUSANN’S ONCE IS NOT ENOUGH'—THE FILM

Poor January in 1975 ONCE IS NOT ENOUGH (the late Deborah Raffin from LACE II), the girl’s got big daddy issues. But can you really blame her when the daddy in question is none other than Kirk Douglas? Talk about a Freudian flick. It’s enough to blush from head to toe just thinking about it. But not I. I’m an old pro at this game. Not about having daddy issues (although after a few drinks, watch out), but seeing the world without rose colored-glasses—especially in films. Forget about all those Hollywood goodie-two-shoes invading our screens. Give me a Nomi Malone or a Jerrilee Randall anytime. OK, I admit, this January broad isn’t really in that same category, but she does try her hardest to be.

　

The craziness starts when twenty-something January joins her father in the Big Apple. Two things we learn in  this scene: January is a little green, having spent all of her youth in a Switzerland hospital recovering from a freak motorcycle accident; and her newly married dad is a down-on-his-luck Hollywood producer living off his wife’s wealth (Silver Screen legend Alexis Smith). After he introduces his daughter to her new stepmom, who turns out to be a closeted lesbian (right on!), a disappointed January sets out to conquer the world. In comes her old high-school pal turned magazine editor Linda (PAPER DOLLS Brenda Vaccaro) who offers her a job. She’s the poster child for re-constructive surgery ("I had a nose job, my tits were lifted, my ass was flattened an my knees were straightened."), plus she’s got a mouth like a sailor. The two join January’s folks at a local restaurant where they also bump into Tom (TV’s THE FUGITIVE David Janssen), a famous alcoholic author à la Norman Mailer. Who? Google him. Linda wants to do him, but he only has eyes for January. Since he’s old enough to be her father, January is interested. But the relationship soon suffers after her dad interferes. Plus Tom seems unable to give himself entirely since he much prefers booze and destructive behavior. In a heartfelt scene tagged by a beautiful Henry Mancini score, we see little January walking into the sunset, lost forever in the Big Apple. The end.

Well, at least that’s what happens in the film version. In the novel, January—high as a kite after taking some LSD at a party—disappears after encountering a UFO (cue in the STAR WARS theme). But as you might guess, Hollywood Honchos weren’t in favor of filming such an outrageous conclusion. ONCE IS NOT ENOUGH is supposed to be high melodrama, not an encounter of the third kind. Speaking of melodrama, I forgot to mention that in the mix of all the fluff comes the news of a fatal airplane crash involving January’s dad and his rich wife. So you can imagine how devastated she truly is when she goes MIA.

When not focusing solely on January, the film features a cast of colorful characters. And truth be told, they all add a little bit more camp to an otherwise basic storyline (girl meets much older boy, older boy is smitten but only for a while…). Paramount Pictures spares no expenses focusing on slick designer duds and exotic  locations. It being the last of Susann’s adapted work on the big screen, I can honestly say that ONCE IS NOT ENOUGH is more subdued than any other efforts based on the author. But I still say go for it just to see Kirk Douglas take a shower in front of his maid. Now, wouldn’t it be swell if someone in La La Land decided to put Susann’s posthumous novel DOLORES to the test? It’s all inspired by Jackie Kennedy’s relationship with billionaire Aristotle Onassis. It would make a WONDERFUL film. Oh wait, it’s already been done as THE GREEK TYCOON with Jacqueline Bisset and Anthony Quinn and it’s as addictive as any Susann flick. Remind me to review it one day.

　

Until next post—Martin

　

JACQUELINE SUSANN’S THE LOVE MACHINE—THE FILM

Whenever I feel like watching some delicious trash, I always want to include my partner in the ritual. Whether it’s a soap opera (DYNASTY nowadays mostly) or an over-the-top film (you name it, I’ve seen it) I always find the need, for some reason, to share my absolute love for this genre. Since he’s such a good sport about it, he’s always game in sitting through one, no matter how bad (or so he says) some turn out to be. The latest is none other than THE LOVE MACHINE, the 1971 epic—yes, epic—screen adaptation of the Jacqueline Susann best-seller. The reason for viewing this one with my honey is simple: John Philip Law. Always preferable to have a good-looking on-screen guy in your corner when viewing time beckons. It so sweetens the pill. And believe you me, this film needs all the sweetness it can handle.

It all starts with the arrival of Law as Robin Stone, preceded by a montage of him in action (he plays a newscaster) to the Dionne Warwick theme song that keeps repeating his character’s name so you won’t ever forget it. Every time Robin is on TV women all over the world cream their panties, paraphrases Dyan Cannon, the wife of his boss. When the two begin having an affair, all hell breaks loose. Robin is a player and won’t commit. When Cannon realizes this, she torches his bed while he’s in the shower with two bimbos. Afraid for his career (he’s become president of IBC News by then, all thanks to her), he rekindles his romance with Cannon, which gives the most outrageous climax scene ever filmed involving a bracelet, face slapping, a cat and mouse chase, and, of course, the cops. I won’t say too much so not to spoil it for you, but it’s a hoot, I promise you.

As in the novel, three central women gravitate around Robin (besides the slew of wacky secondary characters), but for time-restricted reasons only two are really spotlighted. The last chick, Maggie, played by former THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS star Sharon Ferrel, is almost rendered to a walk-on as she adds absolutely nothing to the plot. One who does, however, is model of the moment Jodi Wexler (whatever happened to her?) who’s unable to keep her hands off of Stone during the film’s first half. She’s absolutely a sight for sore eyes but is built like a boy, meaning she has no tits. It’s all fine with Stone. “Anything you haven’t got, you don’t need”, he replies almost gleefully, adding another layer of innuendo regarding the character’s sexual preferences. Indeed, from his close relationship with gay photographer David Hemmings to his brutal beating of a tranny-like prostitute, the film makes you wonder if Robin isn’t really a closet homosexual after all—or bisexual at least. Since it’s 1971 and the subject matter has been taken as far as it can go, the director keeps mum about it. But does it really matter? Because whether the protagonist digs dames or dudes, whether he looses or keeps his high-paying job after that crazed but delightful survival of the fittest scene with la Cannon, songstress Dionne Warwick says it best in the end: he’s moving on; that’s Robin Stone.

THE LOVE MACHINE is now available on DVD from Sony Pictures. The disc holds no extra features but has a 1.85:1 widescreen transfer almost free of dust and debris. The sound quality is a pleasant 2.0 stereo. Go check it out and force a loved one to submit to it.

Until next post—Martin