moonspinner55 Why are all these Jacqueline Susann soap operas--targeted, ostensibly, at frustrated women--directed by men? Guy Green helms this thing like a farmer driving along in his rusty tractor, and screenwriter Julius J. Epstein dispatches his characters with the careless pen of a hack talent only interested in collecting a paycheck. Deborah Raffin, a painfully-thin, vanilla-flavored virgin with flaxen hair, seems to be saving herself for her chummy papa (Kirk Douglas, looking a little embarrassed); when Dad marries tough cookie (and part-time lesbian) Alexis Smith, Raffin finds a hollowed-out older man to care for (David Janssen, also looking embarrassed). Horny magazine editor Brenda Vaccaro (who in real-life was dating Kirk's son, Michael) gets the best lines and received an Oscar nomination, but this sappy movie just doesn't move...it dawdles along looking an awful lot like a tacky magazine spread for old lady jewelry. When Epstein gets tired of a character (or two, as with Douglas and Smith), he throws in a plot-twist, unconcerned with the ridiculousness of the results. His facetious ending, accented by a cooing chorus, makes the whole thing seem like a pointless potboiler. ** from ****

mark.waltz It's amazing how forgettable some films can be, even with an "A" cast list like this one. I actually saw it about two years ago and half way through the film, realized that I had already sneered at it. You'd expect at least some camp from the writer of "Valley of the Dolls", and for this story of a Hollywood writer (Kirk Douglas) reminiscing about his life with his daughter (Deborah Raffin) and an ill-fated marriage, there was only a few moments to single out. Raffin's dull creature is named "January", which is appropriate considering her cold and frigid performance, even as an ingénue. Douglas, with one of the most hideous hairstyles since Donald Trump, tries to add some humanity to his boring character, and only sparkles in scenes with his Doris Duke/Barbara Hutton like wealthy wife (the marvelous Alexis Smith) who has an interesting secret of her own. Brenda Vaccaro, in a showy Oscar Nominated performance, spends more time bemoaning her unattractiveness, yet is actually more desirable than the leading heroine, getting some really stinging dialog to deliver. Raffin is saddled in a strange relationship with the much older David Jansen, while George Hamilton, still "Mr. Tan" in 1975, and the great Melina Mercouri are totally wasted, although Mercouri stands out in a truly erotic scene that is the highlight of the film. I wanted to see so much more of Ms. Smith, then having just proved her talent by taking over Broadway in the diva role of the musical "Follies" and a short-lived revival of "The Women". Her secret is revealed after she takes a walk through one of New York's bigger department stores, having been dropped off by her chauffeur and heading out to catch a cab. The ending is a total disappointment, pretty much coming out of nowhere and adding really no emotional value to the storyline. So now embedded in my memory, I can safely say that "Two times wasn't the charm" and I won't be paying any future visits to this artificial look at a group of mainly dull characters who give Ms. Susann's Neeley O'Hara and Helen Lawson anything to worry about.

Aussie Stud If you happen to catch this movie, it could easily be mistaken for the pilot episode of an 80's prime-time soap. How the producers thought that anyone would seriously pay good money to watch this midday made-for-TV movie at the theater is incredibly hilarious.Kirk Douglas surprisingly headlines this incestuous melodrama where his daughter January (Deborah Raffin) harbors some sort of daddy-complex since the day she was born. I would have loved to have sat through a theater screening of this and observed the faces of the audience around me. I don't know if I would have seen smirks or looks of discomfort, like someone shouldn't have eaten those bad tacos for lunch.The movie is very outdated. It's lifted right from a Jacqueline Susann novel (or basically take your pick from any Harlequin read) and plays out just like it on the small screen. Most of the close-ups are shot through a filter, the soundtrack is hijacked by Henry Mancini's orchestrated strings, and all the actresses parade themselves with such high camp you'll find it hard not to fall in love with this atrocity.Most hilarious is January's attraction to David Janssen's character. Talk about taking the daddy-complex to the next level! Brenda Vaccaro who received an Oscar nomination(!!!) for her portrayal of a man-hungry sex-starved magazine editor is absolutely stunning. She delivered plain awful dialog with perfect snap, "He laid me, and then he fired me!" and also managing to keep a straight face at the same time, she definitely deserved the nomination.The best line comes out of the mouth of Douglas' long-suffering housekeeper, Mabel (Lillian Randolph), "For twelve years, it's just been a parade of poon-tang!", as she boards the bus to Santa Monica.Throw in a closeted lesbian millionaire engaging in a secret relationship with a reclusive Hispanic actress (where else could you view an interracial middle-aged lesbian sex scene!!), gratuitous shots of Gary Conway (portraying an astronaut LOL!) running in short shorts on a beach and Deborah Raffin staring blankly into the camera as if she were doped on percosets, and you have the ultimate camp classic of 1975.There was a scene with Raffin's character walking blankly across the road (nearly getting run over by a taxi) after she is devastated by Janssen's character, and yet I still could not determine any difference in her acting from that scene to the entire film.Vaccaro is definitely the one thing that holds this movie together, although her character isn't necessary to the story. She seemed to express more personality than all of the other characters combined that it was a joy to watch her self-diagnosing, "Sleeping with men makes me feel better!" It made me feel better too.

Poseidon-3 It's true....Only the skeleton of Ms. Susann's novel remains in this bland, dreary screen treatment. All the truly racy parts are sanitized out partly or completely. Still, there's something irresistible about this film in a good/bad way. The stellar cast tiptoeing its way around such sordid subjects as casual sex, incestuous feelings, loss of virginity, lesbianism et al provides curiosity appeal. Aside from the bleaching of the story elements, the biggest flaw is the time spent on Raffin. She is almost adequate in the film, but her character is not very easy to identify with and can be pretty annoying. She, unfortunately, is the primary focus of the story. Douglas carries her along pretty well, but even he doesn't get the screen time one might like and does disappear for a large chunk of it. The major interest comes from the more colorful and vivid supporting cast. Vaccaro got a lot of attention as the man-hungry, plain-speaking magazine editor. She adds a lot of zing to a very sedate film. Hamilton is his usual suave self but fades out quietly, Janssen gives a thoughtful if drowsy performance and can almost be understood at times through his growl, Mercouri is barely seen at all (her story was all but snipped out of the script) and Conway has, literally, nothing to do but look handsome. The chief reason for sitting through all the melodrama and angst (aside from witnessing Conway running on the beach in the teeniest cutoff sweat pants) is to witness the wry, slick, surprising performance of Smith. Her character is a fascinating blend of haughty arrogance, vulnerability, style, elegance and bawdiness. She plays a part that would have made her old boss Jack Warner keel over from shock. Moss Mabry decked Ms. Smith in the latest (now hilariously dated) styles and with her regal air and frosted pageboy, she RUNS the film while she's on screen. Most unforgettable is her backgammon partner "Joyce". The title music by Mancini sounds like a dry run for the TV series "Hotel". He basically switched a few notes around, dusted it off and "Abrakadabra"! ...a TV theme song was born! Most excruciating for anyone who sat through the film and didn't like it (which is probably 80% of the viewing audience) is the ending, in which "highlights" of the film are reviewed (and reviewed!) over more of the title music--this time sung by generic crooners who may as well be singing about mouthwash and who probably worked on 1973's "Lost Horizon" in some cruel attempt to end film-making forever! This is a special brand of glamorously produced, but insipid, film-making. It's an acquired taste, but delicious to those who like it. One nagging question remains...... Among Douglas, Janssen, Hamilton and Conway, they chose to show Janssen's naked behind???? Assault with a deadly weapon.