Friday, December 31, 2010

Backstairs at the White House (1979)

Solid historical drama in the vein of "Roots," (with many cast members to share), "Backstairs at the White House" is a warm miniseries, a strange thing to say about what should be a dry political lesson.  We rip through all of the Presidents and First Ladies from the Tafts to the Eisenhowers, all with varying degrees of charm or difficulty, but in an obvious ape at its obvious British counterpart, more important here is the story of Maggie Rogers and her daughter Lillian who work at the White House and observe all that goes on.  I'm not sure that any miniseries has ever boasted so many fancy guest stars, but it's the main characters that really keep up the sweet and confident pace.  I can't believe I'm saying this, but the Presidents and First Ladies are often mere window dressing.

It's 1961 and John F. Kennedy is being inaugurated.  A young taxi driver drops Lillian Rogers Parks (Leslie Uggams) at Levi Mercer's (Lou Gossett Jr.) place where the two old timers have settled in to watch the inauguration, the driver not at all believing Lillian's claim that she has been to the White House.  Lillian notes it's her ninth inauguration, and Levi knowingly rebuffs her, saying she's too young.

Ah, but she's not.  She can remember all the way back to the Taft inauguration.  Actually, it wasn't the inauguration she remembered most, but her father's return home (a jovial Paul Winfield).  Lillian and her brother are thrilled, but mother Maggie (Olivia Cole) is more reserved.  He's no good, gone for months at a time and Maggie needs stability.  Paul says all the right things, but Maggie knows better and has gotten herself a job where she can bring her kids.  She fails to mention it's at the White House!

On her first day, Maggie encounters a cow on the lawn and Mrs. Jaffray, the head of the household.  Maggie is the first black maid to work with the first family, and though the salary is meager, the perks are better than anywhere else.  As Mrs. Jaffray goes to market, Maggie meets Ike Hoover (Leslie Nielsen), who runs everything and the rest of the staff at breakfast.  Even in the servant's quarters, there is a hierarchy, not race-based, but experience-based.  Mrs. Jaffray had warned Maggie about gossiping, but they sure as hell do a lot of it on their own.

It's tough work and it's long into the first day when she meets Mrs. Taft (Julie Harris), who actually does check the plants for dust (Maggie had already done them).  As hard and laborious as it is, Maggie is very impressed by the White House, the furniture, the walls, everything.  Maggie was brought on because of her skill at doing hair, and gets to hear an awful lot while doing it.  Mrs. Taft is always worried about appearances (she won't allow bald men), so careful to keep the President from being made a fool of. 

At one point, with Mrs. Taft gone, Maggie is needed back at the White House at night, bringing Lillian with her.  Crippled in one leg with polio, Lillian is full of spunk, and amazed by the President's bathtub.  It's here that we finally meet Taft himself (Victor Buono), who is very friendly, even inviting little Lillian to snack with him, holding her hand.  He indeed has a very hearty appetite and rambles on about ghosts and politics to Lillian, but he seems like a harmless lonely man. 

Fellow staff members help Maggie to make extra money, even getting her son Emmett a job in the garden.  Charlie Taft gets in him into trouble, which horrifies Maggie.  Even worse is Lillian earning money by helping men bet on horses, which gets her sent off to Catholic school. 

There are times when the narrative gets a bit cloying in its stretch to go both upstairs and downstairs.  For instance, Maggie goes to get her curling iron, trapped in the bathroom when the Tafts come up unexpectedly.  She overhears Taft complaining about being President, summarizing pretty much his entire career in three minutes.  Or, right after that, Maggie tells one of her wealthy clients about poor Lillian's leg, and the client offers to pay for the surgery. 

Naturally, during the surgery, Mrs. Taft has a stroke and Maggie is called back to the White House.  She has to work, so she leaves the hospital to tend to Mrs. Taft.  Luckily, the operation is successful, and all of the servants are so relieved, giving Maggie the good news as she brushes delicate Mrs. Taft's hair.  Both Lillian and Nellie Taft recover well (so well that Leslie Uggams has taken over as Lillian now), though Lillian will always need her crutches. 

For the Butler's Ball, Maggie dresses up in one of Mrs. Taft's old dresses that Lillian has redone for her, but neither of Maggie's growing kids is happy.  Lillian stays inside sewing, afraid to be seen handicapped and Emmett is tired of Charlie Taft's hand-me-downs and leftover duck. 

Taft loses his bid for re-election and the staff members are all upset to see the Tafts go.  It's time for the Wilsons (Robert Vaughn and Kim Hunter), far less friendly, but more thrifty.  Wilson can't be bothered to meet the staff, but will go around turning off lights.  The Wilson daughters are a bit more fun, joining a White House tour and pretending to be tourists.  Maggie adores the Wilson daughters, much to Lillian's jealous dismay. 

A charitable do-gooder, the first Mrs. Wilson actually pays Maggie a visit to see how they live, promising to "fight for the Negroes with the very last ounce of my energy."  You say a thing like that in a miniseries and you are a goner.  Indeed, the first Mrs. Wilson expires in the very next scene.  Luckily, before she died, she told Wilson how much she liked Maggie and he orders that Maggie is "never to be on her knees again." 

The first Mrs. Wilson is soon forgotten as Wilson marries for a second time (Claire Bloom).  Maggie asks for a raise and is told that is not going to happen as then she would be making the same amount as a white maid, the first time we've encountered obvious racism.  "There's a new Mrs. Wilson now," Mrs. Jaffray snaps at Maggie's reminding her that Mrs. Wilson had promised.  Maggie then tries to get a maid's job for Lillian once Emmett goes off to the army, but Mrs. Jaffray knocks that down too as Lillian is not fast enough. 

Maggie is doing Mrs. Wilson's hair when she and her husband are arguing against women getting the vote.  Unlike the Tafts, they don't seem to notice Maggie at all.  She literally stands a foot from them as Wilson bashes everyone, and then Mrs. Wilson suggests they send Maggie outside to find out what the female protesters are saying.  Vapid Mrs. Wilson then tells Maggie how easy she has it, going home from work every night while the President sits up worried.  "Backstairs at the White House" is never mean-spirited, but it does have its little moments of acidity.  Plucky Lillian is outside marching, to the horror of her mother! 

With World War I on, the staff is worried that Wilson won't eat.  As one of their own goes off to fight, a letter comes from Emmett.  He's been promoted, thrilling everyone, but Mercer notes the return address is a hospital.  He's been gassed, they find out through the White House chain.  Wilson tells Maggie that Emmett is on the way home, but then a telegram arrives.  It's not what you think, because Emmett arrives home safely (though with a nasty cough).  It's Emmett Sr. coming home, $112 in need.  Maggie is utterly thrilled with everything.  When one is that happy...  Well, the next telegram says Emmett Sr. is not coming home.

The war ends and the servants are overjoyed, even stuffy Mrs. Jaffray.  But Wilson loses his League of Nations battle.  Wilson forgets his glasses and then gets a chill.  Students of history know what is coming next: Wilson's big stroke.  That it happens in the middle of a big monologue delivered to Mercer is a bit much.  The story gives Wilson far less sympathy than Mrs. Taft after her stroke.  Mrs. Wilson full intends to take over and run things.  A big deal is made over finding Lincoln's bed for the big show Mrs. Wilson wants to put on to make everyone think Wilson is just fine, and it's heavy-handed, but it's only 1979 and the miniseries is hardly subtle at this point.  Okay, it will never be subtle, but it did do some learning. 

Surprisingly, there is some sympathy given to the second Mrs. Wilson, who never gets any in real life.  She's worn out from running the country and has a touching scene with Maggie where they discover they must be "blood sisters" as both have Indian heritage.  The Prince of Wales pays a visit, giving way to a comical scene where everyone learns how to bow and address him properly.  Even Mr. Wilson is able to greet him.  Maggie and Mercer are proud of their Wilsons, but it's time for them to leave the White House.

No one is eager for the Hardings.  They have to put spittoons in the rooms!  And sauerkraut!  Mrs. Jaffray tries to get Maggie back to scrubbing the stairs, but Maggie says she's been spared that by Presidential order.  Lillian is there hear her finally stand up to Mrs. Jaffray, but they do not agree about Lillian's new bob hairdo.  It goes with her new job at a dress shop, where Washington ladies are already full of gossip about Harding and his affairs. 

Celeste Holm is immediately pushy as Mrs. Harding, brandishing a dog and a bird as she makes her first appearance.  She's quirky, confusing Maggie.  She wants a facial every day and sings "Look For the Silver Lining" before saying she gets "good psychic vibrations" from Maggie.  The formality of the previous First Ladies at least made sense to Maggie.

It's Prohibition, but President Harding (George Kennedy) has the White House staff supplying him with alcohol, must to Maggie's dismay.  Mercer takes full advantage and drinks what is available.  Harding is a fun-loving people person who plays poker with his cronies in the White House, easily the least stiff of the Presidents so far (and he's making Taft Chief Justice, which Taft had wanted to be years earlier).  The corruption goes on right under his nose and he seems to have no idea because his friends, including the Attorney General (Barry Sullivan) make it seem legal. 

Maggie does what she does best, comforting First Ladies.  Florence Harding is exhausted from shaking hands and smiling all day long, but not too tired to blather on about Harding's destiny and her psychic notions.  Let's not mention her bird that sings at night, a "bad omen."

Lillian has found the family a new apartment, bigger than before and with furniture.  Emmett comes home from the hospital for a meal...not leftover duck, but pork chops that Maggie herself made.  Both of the kids know about the house on K Street, infamous during the Harding administration as THE place for illegal activity.  Fiercely devoted Maggie refuses to believe anything bad about any of her employers.  Once again, she chooses the job over her family.  Mrs. Harding wants her back while Emmett is choking at the kitchen sink.  Mrs. Harding is right to be worried.  On top of everything else, there are rumors that the President has black blood in him. 

For the first time, we meet a future president before he's in office.  Silent Calvin Coolidge (Ed Flanders).  Harding brings him to the White House in desperation to see how he'll vote should the Senate need his tie-breaking vote.  He refuses to give an answer, ever the Sphinx.  He'll arrive soon enough as Harding's problems mount.  One of his best friends kills himself and the Senate is bouncing around various charges, including Teapot Dome.  We hear of this in one of the miniseries' annoying "coincidences."  Maggie is tending to Mrs. Harding who tells Maggie to open the door, allis owing us to hear/see what Harding and his friends are doing a room away.  Poor Mrs. Harding--her husband is a bum with multiple mistresses and a crumbling presidency.  She has only her Maggie to keep her company, though Maggie is exhausted by it. 

It comes time for the Hardings' fateful trip to the West.  For Mrs. Jaffray, it's only a chance to give the White House a big cleaning.  Mercer shows up at Maggie's in the middle of the night to break the news that President Harding as died.  Weeks later, Florence Harding is refusing to leave, and Coolidge is not pushing to move in.  When she finally does leave, it's without her pets.  She leaves the damn bird to Maggie. 

There are changes in staff, so many that Mercer and Maggie are near the head of the table and the Irish maid Annie, who gave Maggie such a hard time early on, is retiring after 25 years.  Maggie is the new first maid!  Coolidge is the kind of man who rings for the servants just to see them hurry in and who also expectes change when Mercer gets him the paper.  And he keeps a pet racoon. 

Mrs. Grace Coolidge (Lee Grant) insists her husband has a sense of humor, but she seems to be the only one who can see it.  He's the kind of man who visits the White House kitchen, instructing everyone on stretching soup by adding water, saving stale bread, etc.  There will be no leftovers for the staff as Coolidge wants them for himself. 

Lillian is caught up in living on credit, as is the rest of the country.  She's happy to buy her mother a Victrola on credit, much to the delight of the staff members who visit Maggie.  At 26, Lillian has a date, the first one we've known about yet!

The only time President Coolidge shows any excitement is with his family.  But even then he's sour, telling his sons, "don't get too comfortable, boys, we're only temporary tenants."  Mrs. Coolidges's biggest worry is sneaking a few moments away from the Secret Service.  Hell, she even makes her own bed, but will defend her husband to the end as a "good man."  Beware the slightest hint of pain in a miniseries.  One of the Coolidge boys complains of a blister on his foot and in the next scene...dead.  Both parents are utterly undone, but after a while, they manage to get back their lives (Mrs. Coolidge has all of those creepy dolls to help). 

However, it's Silent Cal Coolidge who has the best line of the entire miniseries.  He's in the attic with the servants helping to patch a buckling roof when Mrs. Jaffray starts wailing at them all, not realizing he's there.  "Mrs. Jaffray, wouldn't you be more comfortable at Buckingham Palace?" and she resigns.  Having taken care of that, he's off to his wife full of dire warnings about the economy, that someday there will be a depression. 

On the homefront, Emmett has been moved to Arizona for a better climate, thanks to the President.  So, that leaves Maggie to worry about only Lillian, who goes to speakeasies and boys.  Lillian chides her once again about her devotion to the White House.  "It's like taking the veil," she huffs. 

We find out Coolidge is done when the Republican party fails to nominate him in 1928, going for Hoover instead.  It's suddenly 1930 and the Great Depression is in full swing.  The dress shop where Lillian works is going out of business and the movie theater where she worked has closed.  Things are so bad the refrigerator is taken by the repo man.  In fact, she does something she said she would never do; she takes a job at the White House.  "I've come to take the veil," she announces during breakfast one morning and takes her place at the end of the table.

President Hoover (Larry Gates) is also not the friendliest of men, and even Maggie is caught up in the gloom, ordering around Lillian mercilessly.  The first time we meet Mrs. Hoover (Jan Sterling) is when she summons Lillian, who is schooled in Mrs. Hoover's finger gestures by her mother.  And Maggie wasn't wrong.  Mrs. Hoover is definitely an imperious broad, with a bird yet.  She wants to "fatten up" Lillian and sends a boat of ice cream her way, with a servant to make sure she eats every bit of it. 

Mother and daughter are having trouble because Maggie is so tough on Lillian at work.  Lillian is worked to the bone, but Maggie puts it in perspective: there are a lot of people out of work and everyone at the White House knows someone who needs a job, so if she were easy on Lillian, everyone would want to bring in someone.  On top of it all, everyone has to take a pay cut! 

Mercer, Maggie and Lillian's savings are all wiped out when the banks fail.  Maggie has been putting even coins aside and now gets a big actorly scene of tears and mourning.  "Backstairs at the White House" has been relatively free of these, as it races at break-neck speed through history, but since Oliva Cole can handle it, she might as well have a scene like this every now and then.

A crazed man has gotten into the White House and threatened the President, so security measures are ramped up, meaning the servants have to be even more out of sight than ever.  The Bonus Army is a big worry for the Hoovers, who have everyone working overtime.  Maggie looks ready to drop.  An old army buddy of Emmett's shows up as part of the Bonus Army (much to the consternation of Frazier, their boarder/coworker). 

The Hoovers are the first couple given no sympathy.  Yes, the President speaks to Maggie once, by accident, and Mrs. Hoover, on her way out, has a scene with mother and daughter for a split second and then they have their own scene where they speak of the good things they have done.  His achievements are minimal, but a bit overdone is Hoover's speaking Quaker.

Maggie collapses while working.  The doctor orders rest, but Maggie is stubborn. 

The loud Roosevelts show up.  Eleanor (Eileen Heckart, no looker herself, is way too pretty for Eleanor) chatters endlessly and even helps out in the kitchen.  She's a dynamo.  But right behind her is FDR's secretary, Miss LeHand, who lives next to Lillian's sewing room  We first see FDR (John Anderson), appalled at the bell system the Hoovers put in to scatter the servants.  FDR and Lillian immediately bond over their affliction by polio.  He insists no more steps for Lillian, only the elevator!  I know it's mushy and calculated, but it works.  It's a moment that chokes one up.  Ike Hoover finally retires. 

Maggie is horrified to hear Lillian's stories from the White House.  She's training maids.  The staff calls the First Lady Eleanor.  They even gossip about things that are not in the paper!  Times are chaning, but Maggie is stuck back in the Taft administration.  Maggie is even grouchy over Lillian's suitor, who very much wants to marry her. 

Lillian and Missy have a nice chat, where Missy explains how she helps the President swim, and both note the lack of free time they have.  Hey, if we can humanize poor Missy LeHand, we probably could have found a way to make nice with the Hoovers, but whatever, they are gone. 

Well, Lillian finally gets married, but without telling Maggie.  They stall at the movies rather than face her, understandably.  She's not happy.  She fears for Lillian's job and the husband doesn't even have one.  At the heart of it is Maggie's fear of losing everyone.  Lillian assures her she'll never leave her mother.  Unfortunately, that means even on her wedding night, she sleeps in her room with Maggie and hubby is out on the couch. 

There's another pay cut, this one 25%.  However, FDR is understanding, noting in a letter to Eleanor that they need to cut back too. 

In a hoot of a scene Eleanor moves into Lillian's sewing room because there is no room in the house, especially with Alexander Woolcott staying on and on.  She formulates a plan to get him out, literally stripping the room bare right out from under him.

It's 1939 and Hitler is on the move, with Roosevelt thinking of a third term.  Maggie is supposed to retire, but Eleanor has asked her to stay on through a royal visit.  Lillian's husband is laid off and very crabby that he gets to spend no time with his wife, the breadwinner.

The King and Queen of England come for a visit and frumpy Eleanor wears a wool dress with an uneven hem, but she doesn't care.  "That's my lady!" Lillian says proudly.  "Not quite yet!" Maggie says with each word taking a full minute.  But, four days later, it is indeed her time to retire, after 30 years.  Franklin and Eleanor give her an inscribed pocket watch.  She has as sweet goodbye speech and of course Mercer is sad to see her go, having obviously loved her from the first day they started together,  "I want to go out the way I came in...by myself," she says in a very Miss Jane Pittman moment. 

As Maggie is leaving, we hear an ambulance and Lillian thinks something has happened to Maggie, but it's actually Missy LeHand who has had a stroke.  Mercer takes that moment to remind us of all the death and decay he's seen in the last 30 years, as if we hadn't remembered.

Suddenly it's Pearl Harbor Day and we're in World War II.  Now it's Maggie who is lonely and begging Lillian not to work so hard.  She's without purpose.  Wheatley also hasn't seen Lillian, but does so just long enough to tell her he's enlisted.  When he gets back, he also wants a divorce.  It's the old "you're not married to me, you're married to the White House" speech we've all heard so many times in life. 

Jackson and Mays aren't holding up so well.  Jackson is coughing and Mays has memory trouble.  But, with Mercer, they keep going.  Maggie is still around too, but also having memory issues, confusing the two wars.  When she shows up at the White House, Mercer and Lillian think she is confused, but Eleanor has sent for her to help with Madame Chiang Kai-Chek's visit.  Eileen Heckart and Olivia Cole have a beautiful scene sitting in the kitchen talking about the horrors of war. 

Maggie collapses on those darn backstairs and for once asks to go home to rest.  Now she's telling Lillian she's doing too much.  Poor Frazier, who had been living with Maggie and Lillian before the war, is killed in an air raid. 

Flashing off to March, 1945, FDR is only weeks away from death, old and haggard after years of service.  He and Lillian have another one of their personal chats.  Lillian knows the house history and FDR notes she would make a fine tour guide, which of course she wanted to be years before.  It is, of course, their last chat.  "Good night, Little Girl," he says as she lives.

Harry Truman (Harry Morgan) is now in the White House with fumpy Bess (Estelle Parsons, in a strange fright wig) and Margaret in tow.  The servants are split on the Trumans.  There's a lot to make fun of, but the old-timers like Lillian, are sounding an awful lot like Maggie used to, defending whoever lives there no matter what.  Harry is homespun and Bess makes muffins to share with the staff.  The only problem is the one that always emerges...economizing.  They won't even be feeding the staff breakfast anymore, but both Harry and Bess' mothers are moving in. 

Mrs. Jaffray's position has never been an easy one to fill, with a succession of women.  The latest, Mrs. Nesbitt, is fired after denying Bess a stick of butter.  Harry has bigger problems.  Big as in the atom bombs that end the war.

Would you believe Maggie is still alive?  Yup, still pasting clippings into her scrapbook for that book she's always wanted to write, ignoring her health.  The White House is in even worse shape, so bad that the Trumans famously had to flee it temporarily so it could be patched up.  Jackson has retired, but Mays and Mercer are still at it.  Mays and Mercer even make the cut when the Trumans move to Blair House, the only two of the whole staff to stay on.  But, that doesn't last long because Truman squeeks out a win and Bess wants Lillian back. 

Then it's 1950 and Korea creeps into the regular vocabulary.  One of history's more forgotten episodes happens right outside Lillian's sewing room window when assassins target Blair House and kill a policeman.  The Secret Service wants to stop Harry from a speech, but he refuses.

On Inauguration Day, Dwight Eisenhower (Andrew Duggan) refuses to come in and do the hand-off properly.  This time, the goodbyes are very small, as only a handfull of staff members are still around, but it gives Mercer a nice last bonding moment with Truman before he disappears from the story.  But, at least everyone is back at the White House, Lillian in her sewing room.  Eisenhower bucks tradition again and banishes the portraits of Truman and FDR to the attic. 

Lillian is summoned by Mamie (Barbara Barrie), a stickler for small details, such as calling drapes drapery.  She has a habit of not addressing people directly, only through her housekeeper.  Mamie and Ike are as bland as Mamie's Pepto pink. The first time we actually see Ike, he's off to golf.  Mamie can't stand footprints on carpet.  One already misses Bess' antics, though Ike's personally-made soup (on a hot pot) is somewhat endearing.  Lillian doesn't have to mend the linen anymore, instead having to make them brand new. 

Mamie demands to see Lillian, who is ready to quit due to Mamie's demands, but it's only a ruse to get her downstairs for a surprise birthday party.  By now, we're really stretching for things to do in the White House.  That night, Lillian comes home just in time to see Maggie going back to the White House, confused about where she is and when it is. 

Mercer and Mays are still in the White House, though they complain they aren't really noticed.  They have been there since the Tafts and even Lillian has nearly 30 years on the job.

The last of the illnesses in the story is Eisenhower's heart attack, kept a secret from everyone except the staff, much to the chagrin of a dressmaker who wants to fit Mamie.  Mays has to have a leg removed and then dies.  Mercer, Maggie and Lillian are present at the funeral, making Mercer the only old-timer left in the White House.  As Maggie breathes her last, Mercer finally admits his love for her. 

But Lillian and Mercer return to work, admitting the only people they know now in the White House are each other.  Mays had gotten a nice parting speech before he was dispatched, so now it's Mercer's turn.  He decides to retire once Kennedy is elected.  "The presidents, their families, they are temps.  We are the ones who live here," Lillian tells him when he says he no longer belongs. 

Then it's back to where we started, Inauguration Day, 1961.  Lillian leaves her sewing room for the last time.  She gets the 30-year tray and autographed pictures of Dwight and Mamie, though Lillian wonders who told Ike her name, since they had no contact in his years in office.  Going down the staires for the last time, Lillian says she intends to write a book, the one her mother had wanted to write, but one that can now be about their summed 50+ years on the job. 

There couldn't be a better Cliffs Notes version of presidential history than "Backstairs at the White House."  Made at a time of organized simplicity, it's really a very elegant and streamlined production.  The main characters are given delightful easygoing personalities, without any trace of soapiness in the plot once Emmett Sr. leaves the family after the first scene.  There is a great deal of fun to be had at the expense of the Presidents and First Ladies, but the comedy is never downright bitter.  This all gives the miniseries an expert tone, not political and not preachy, but a sweet story that just happens to take place at the very center of 50 years of American history.  The final praise goes to the three leads.  Olivia Cole is a tender and solid presence as Maggie, a rock solid center.  Lou Gossett, always looking at his favorite ladies with love, is as kindly a Mercer as can be imagined, and Leslie Uggams hits just the right notes of feistiness and knowing drama, as always.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

The Two Mrs. Grenvilles (1987)

Upon seeing "The Two Mrs. Grenvilles" in 1987, I was hooked from the start and 20+ years later, it's lost none of its zing.  Based on a true story, as are all Dominck Dunne novels, I find the movie far more entertaining than the book, which gets far too hung up Dunne's precious society.  The movie gives Ann-Margaret one of her juiciest roles ever, but the bonus here, on top of great writing, acting and a frisky story, is Claudette Colbert, in her last role, not only still stunning, but stealing the movie!  Make no mistake, this is pure trash, pure romance, but dolled up so well that you hardly notice. 

From the credits, it even seems special.  Yes, the score is cheesy, but it's elegantly cheese, courtesy of Marvin Hamlisch, with the names of the cast members (and an impressive list at that) set against a satin background.  It has all the hallmarks of a 1940s "women's picture," which is exactly what it's trying to be.

The story is wisely told in flashback, with a prologue of Ann Grenville (Ann-Margaret) as she is now, aging and alone.  This will allow us to believe Ann far younger, twenty years earlier, in the middle of World War II.

Now we have Ann-Margaret in her full glory, dancing and singing into the ear of an Argentine partner, dripping with glamour, perfectly made up, dressed and coiffed.  Two soldiers arrive, John Rubinstein and Stephen Collins (playing Billy Grenville), who is smitten with Ann-Margaret immediately.  Ann coos "Speak Low" into his ear and if he weren't completely madly in love with her already, he is now!  Forget the age difference between Ann-Margaret and Stephen Collins; yes, it's there, but ignore it.

After this first real scene, we have had Marvin Hamlisch background music, Kurt Weill, Ann-Margaret in full fetch, what's not to love?

And for her encore, she's in a tiny robe having spent apparently days and nights in bed with Stephen.  The dialogue even makes fun of lesser movies of its ilk (all of the Dominick Dunne novels filmed).  Stephen wakes up hoping he's dreaming and Ann says, "not original, but I'll take it."  It's not until some pillow talk that she finds out he's incredibly wealthy, from one of New York's most fashionable families. 

Who should showgirl Ann-Margaret have as her showgirl pal?  Elizabeth Ashley, of course.  Brash and loud, she's the perfect social climbing partner.  In fact, she has to educate Kansas-born Ann (the character is nee Ursula Merton) as to what the Social Register is, but Ann only loves the sweet officer she met.  And to add to the class factor?  Stephen picks Ann up at the theater one night and takes her to a nightclub where Michael Feinstein is manning the 88s.  This is where cynical John Rubinstein (as Bratsie) interrogates her, hoping to come up with a schemer and finding a genuine pearl instead. 

Unfortunately, Stephen's mother and sisters would like to meet Ann.  Ann is naively thrilled.  Upon arriving at the Grenville manse, she's stunned by the opulence, told by Stephen not to call it a mansion, but rather a "house" as his family does.  He warns her one last time before taking her in to meet the family.

That would be three sisters, Penny Fuller chief among them, and Claudette Colbert, a regal dream in her 80s (with a soft lens helping, but still looking fantastic). Claudette plays Mrs. Grenville initially as incredibly charming, adoring and helpful, despite a wealth of faux pas on Ann's behalf.  That comes to a screeching halt when Ann admits to being an orphan and Claudette tells her she shows "very little respect for death" and that she herself mourns her parents still.  With Ann gone, Claudette and Penny tear her apart.  Penny says that Stephen will forget her when he goes back to the war, like he did with the last one.  "I could put the fear of God into K.K. Summerset, but not into this girl."  The talons are out, though hidden behind needlepoint and a saccharine demeanor. 

Stephan proposes to Ann, who reluctantly accepts, but then he goes to a fortune teller who tells him he will die violently on May 5, 1955.  Even more dire is his mother's reaction, who cares about "pride, respect, dignity" and not love.  "I don't know what she's told you in bed to get you to the altar," our Maternal Minx says, "but I found out a few things about your Kansas chorus girl.  She has quite a past."  I can't imagine any other actress making trash sound so damn regal. 

The wedding is lively because only John and Elizabeth attend.  Naturally no Grenville's would dream of being there.  Stephen goes back to war and Ann goes back to NYC as Mrs. Grenville, now pregnant (in real life, the Woodwards has two sons, both of whom committed suicide).  Elizabeth is in the middle of telling her to become a wife and not a mistress now when Claudette comes sweeping in.  Ann says she's named her son after her father, and Claudette purrs out, "I'm sure we'll all learn to accept that," as if it's not a smack in the face.  Ann tries to cut through the bullshit and asks why Claudette is being so helpful.  "Because you are my daughter-in-law.  That's all." 

Ann-Margaret turns into a social climber who uses a ladder with golden rungs, much to the annoyance of everyone, including her husband.  She's mocked everywhere, tolerated by her mother-in-law and Stephen turns full-scale drunk.  But Annie's got her gun.  She's handy skeet shooting, because she and her father used to shoot rabbits, "until I got sick of rabbit pie."  As her life becomes agonizing and her husband distant, John kills himself, leaving her with one less ally.  Stephen is even more upset than Ann over the death and pulls further away from her.  Both are having affairs and Stephen drinks constantly.  After rattling off a list of his amours, Ann holds out a bottle and says, "make love to THAT," dropping it on the floor.  Come on, society juiciness doesn't get better than this!  Dominick Dunne knew it and so do the creators of the miniseries. 

Temporarily, things improve when Stephen realizes he needs a change.  Ann all but steals his sister's farm for him and he's thrilled.  He even quits his dull bank job.  "He's just like the man I married," she tells Elizabeth Ashley.  She even plans him a birthday party without consulting her mother-in-law.  And they dance like they did years ago, with her singing in his ear, though his eyes are wandering.  All is perfect, at least on the surface. 

They are in London on May 5, 1955, the day he is supposed to die.  He pretends he's scared and off to the hotel, though really he has a woman waiting for him.  "If I rang you at midnight and you didn't answer, would that mean you were dead or in someone else's bed?" Ann asks and tries to vamp him in the scantiest of an outfit (Ann-Margaret looks sinfully wonderful), but he begs off.  He's had it already and intends to again with his girlfriend.  When May 6 rolls around, he's off to the hoochie.  Ann finds out and Elizabeth advises her to get a lawyer to "scare the hell out of the Grenvilles." 

She does, and Ann here gives an excellent performance when questioned by him.  She gets feistier with every scene, building up in both sympathy and greed.  She knows he's off in Kansas buying a plane, but doesn't know he's also investigating her past.  He finds her ex-husband running a diner there.  He hasn't seen her since he went off to war and she disappeared.  Oh, and they have never gotten divorced!  This gives her character an interesting twist.  She appeared so warm and winning, not at all a social climber when she met Stephen, at least not until she actually married him, but did she have designs all along?

They go to their country house and the caretaker tells them there has been a break-in on the property, as well as on other properties.  Stephen is concerned, (arming the guns) but not Ann.  She has a party to attend for the Duchess of Windsor and servants to order around ("I hate bottles on tables," she barks).  On the way to the party, in pouring rain, Stephen mentions he's been to Maplewood, Kansas.  They argue about each other's affairs as he drinks and drives. 

At the party, British showtunes play in the background as the Grenvilles pay homage to the Duchess (Sian Phillips) and everyone gossips about Ann.  Lord So-and-so flirts with her, much to the delight of the assembled crowd and she has the piano player do "The Lady is a Tramp."  That is nothing compared to the moment when she hears Stephen on the phone with his lover and she hurls a glass at him.  They fight and he slaps her as a crowd assembles.  "I think the curtain has come down on our showgirl," one quips.  "Poor Alice," the other says, referring to Claudette.  They are rough, these society ladies!

Back home, the two argue again.  She sets her terms for a divorce, but he brings up Maplewood again, this time noting the previous husband and telling her she has no right to anything if they divorce.  This is the first time sheer terror is written on Ann's face as she fights to get out of his clutches (heard by the kid and the maid).  Stephen stops when he hears a noise, thinking it's that prowler he's so worried about. 

I don't need to tell you what happens next.  You have all seen enough nighttime soap operas to know.  You can probably even guess at the howling wind, the thunder the rain, the dog, the kid and the maid seeing shadows, all of it.  Stephen checks out the property and then spits out a good night to Ann, who is, of course, too wound up to sleep.  She goes downstairs to get the gun Stephen prepared for her to ward off the prowler and then Stephen hears her howling in terror.  He rushes in from the shower and she shoots him point blank.  The maid finds her crying over the body and then Ann calls the police.  And also the slimy lawyer she had gone to see.  He coaches her on what to do when the police arrive. 

What happens next is done very well and cautiously.  We alternate between the fracas on Long Island and the Grenville house in the city.  Claudette has a private cry and then calls the Governor.  However, it's going to take a lot of pull to blunt the fact that Ann tells the police "I shot him," which her lawyer told her not to say, though she does make sure to howl that it was a prowler.  Lucky for her, the nurse sedates her and she can't talk to the police.  With her daughters around her, Claudette takes care of hiring a doctor for Ann, getting her to the city and issuing all sorts of orders. 

With Ann in a hospital in the city, she can be watched and kept from the press.  Her only visitor is her lawyer, who tells her people are "just respecting your grief."  She knows the truth: she's been dropped. 

Claudette informs her daughters that they are to believe it was an accident and always support Ann, hoping that eventually another scandal will grab people's attention.  They will fall in line and take her orders, down to what the maids are to wear to the funeral!  The police have no idea what they are up against as every single person they interview, down to the Duchess of Windsor, says Ann and Stephen were "an ideal couple."  Claudette's reach has assured all of society fall into line.  Her weapons are not subtle: she tells Millicent Hearst on the phone to tell reporters to stop or she won't give any more money to various charities.  She dispatches daughter Penny Fuller to the hospital to deal with Ann.  She's cagey with her information, calmly doing her needle point and whispering to Ann, all a-howl again, that the family thinks she's guilty. 

Then comes the showdown.  Claudette arrives at the hospital.  She tells Ann she will "stand behind you until the day I die, as will my daughters."  The room is dark, with lighting just on the faces of the ladies and they have a very civil conversation.  Ann realizes for the first time that Claudette has gone to extraordinary lengths to protect her, even though she thinks she's guilty.  Ann sticks to her story that she's innocent, but Claudette doesn't really care.  She just wants the scandal to go away, and that means sticking by her.  Ann realizes she's lost this war, and the terms from Claudette are complete silence forever and devoted widowhood. 

A grand jury is convened and it's not great for Ann.  The police relate how she was sedated and whisked away.  The maid has memory problems.  The prowler changes his story.  And then Ann takes the stand, where she's asking when her affairs started.  She remains a remarkable sang froid, admitting in her past she had slept around, but when Stephen showed up (cue "Speak Low" in the background), all of that was over.  It's one of those classic witness stand weepers and Ann nails it.  The verdict is "death by accident," as if it was going to go any other way. 

The only person who pays respects to Ann is loyal Elizabeth Ashley.  "What if they had found me guilty?" Ann asks.  "Darling, look around you, they have."  In fact, two years go by and Ann remains a recluse until one day, out of the blue, Claudette sends for her.  Society's collective jaw drops.  "That was quite an entrance," Claudette says.  "I mean it, that took courage."  "I've had worse audiences," Ann snaps.  Claudette suggests that Ann leave the city, for the sake of her son.  It's quite an impassioned plea and it works.  Ann is off to travel the world.  The narration tells us that her son felt deserted, but that seems a bit out of touch with the script. 

From there, Ann drinks and sleeps her way around, never entirely forgotten, but not by the right people.  She has her gigolo lovers and packs of cigarettes.  It's in the middle of a session of both that she gets the call that her son has killed himself.  "Now you know how it feels to lose a son.  Do you know what day it was that he took his life?  Mother's Day.  That was his final statement to you," Claudette says at the graveside.  Ann admits defeat, but that's not what Claudette wants.  They have all lost. 

It comes as no surprise that both of the leading ladies were nominates for Emmys and Claudette Colbert even won a Golden Globe.  These are two delicious performances.  Ann-Margaret certainly has more fun, getting to play the harpies and the society dame (as well as being in nearly every scene), and she tears into it like no other performance in her career.  But, Claudette, in a far smaller part, is every bit her competition, giving her final performance pitched where all of her classic performances were given, way above anyone else's.  1987 was the perfect year for something like this.  The miniseries was still going strong (we haven't hit the ice berg of "War and Remembrance" yet) and a story as juicy as this with the two stars, well, it's television nirvana!  Everyone would have had to work triply as hard to ruin it, but luckily no one did and this one sits grandly atop the pile of romance miniseries about tough dames and murder.

Monday, December 27, 2010

The Bourne Identity (1988)

Quick: who played the female lead in the 2002 movie version of Robert Ludlum's classic Cold War thriller "The Bourne Identity?"  I could give most people an hour and, like myself, they wouldn't come up with it.  But, back in 1988, when Matt Damon was just a kid in Boston, American miniseries royalty did their version.  I'm talking about Richard Chamberlain and Jaclyn Smith, two of the biggest and most important stars of the genre (Richard straddled the great and not-great while Jaclyn excelled at the camp side of things). 

As soon as we see "and Denholm Elliott as 'Washburn' (another 80s regular) in the credits, not even a minute of time, Richard Chamberlain is on the deck of a ship getting shot and falling into the water, seemingly dead, but washing up on the rocky shore pretty quickly.  He apparently has learned nothing since 1980 in "Shogun" where he barely survived that shipwreck.

Two Frenchmen drop off the body at Dr. Denholm Elliott's clinic, where Dr. Denholm is soused (the character, for sure, the actor, quite possibly).  Dr. Denholm does a series of surgeries on our hairy-chested hero, who remains comatose the whole time.  Except when he's muttering incoherently, that is.  Dr. Denholm extracts what seems like a microchip from Richard's leg and it has a bank account number on it.

Richard thrashes and yowls in German, much to the amusement of the local kids and finally wakes up.  Introductions are not made since Richard can't remember who he is.  "I need to know where to send my outrageous bill," Dr. Denholm cracks wise.  He tells Richard his body is filled with bullets, his mind with languages, scars fixed up beautifully and (don't laugh) plastic surgery! 

As Richard jogs on the beach with the children in a wildly off-tone montage (though he has a fleeting image of an Asian child at one point that might be important), Denholm begins to think Richard might be the mysterious assassin "Carlos" that the world is looking for, especially since Richard can pull apart a gun in mere seconds. 

His location compromised, Richard flees to Zurich, hoping to find answers in the bank.  Though he doesn't remember his name, he seems to know that he only stays in style and tells the cab driver to take him to the most expensive hotel in Zurich.  His mind is spry enough to get the hotel manager to write out his name: J. Bourne and a few other details.

Then it's off to the bank, where they are watching him as much as he's watching for clues.  He's not at all subtle, but no one seems to mind, so he gets to play with the $15 million in the account as he wishes.  He's nearly killed in the elevator and then again in the lobby, but naturally escapes.  The fun of Ludlum's book is watching Bourne learn what he's capable of, but it's even more fun here watching it happen to Richard Chamberlain's perpetually blank face.

He avoids two more goons in his hotel lobby by grabbing onto Dr. Jaclyn Smith, a world-famous economist.  He's awfully rough with her as he runs from the goons, but our Jackie is a tough gal, despite her incessant whimpering ("My wrist is broken!"  "No it isn't!"--it's not about the dialogue).  Her expert driving skills, tissue-paper-thin car and the inability of the goons to move very quickly manage to evade four killers and all the usual garage doors, check point barriers, etc.  "Comb your hair, you look a mess," Richard rudely tells our leading lady.  We're a long way from 2002, where no self-respecting actress would be playing anyone this simpering.  Jaclyn doesn't so much as karate chop him unconscious or turn a napkin into a deadly weapon when they head to a restaurant based on Richard's vague memory.

In the restaurant, Richard gets more information, finding out he may be the assassin of the American Ambassador.  By this point, Jaclyn has fixed her mascara, but still has yet to utter a line stronger than "please don't do this to me" or "I don't want to be involved."  It's off to wheelchair-bound Bill Wallis' apartment, where things become more confusing.  Bill, perhaps on loan from making the heaving "War and Remembrance" at the same time, is killed ten seconds after we meet him and Jaclyn actually attempts to show some guts by escaping from a window, unsuccessfully.  She then takes advantage of Richard's head injury to escape her car and run through the streets of Zurich yelling wildly...but luckily, she runs right into the goon patrol and tells all she knows.

Richard remembers an address and they seem to know him there, but so do his enemies, one of whom he kills just opening the door.  Luckily, they are the same size (if off by about two decades age-wise), so Richard slips out in the other guy's clothes, but the bad guys are there to meet him.  So is Jaclyn.  She's been duped, so Richard tells her to "run, scream your head off," but the head baddie tells his henchman to "take her to the river, kill her."  That's a shame, because she does the screaming and running thing so well.  It's all she does! 

Richard kills the two goons who kidnap him and then makes a curious decision.  Well, curious because it's silly, but it's part of the plot, which is the height of nonsensical entertainment, so why should this moment make any more or less sense?  He decides to go after Jaclyn.  Why?  She's done nothing to help him!  He arrives right as the goon is about to rape her, so she's wailing and yelping understandably.  Richard chases the goon and fights with him, but shots are fired by (get this), Jaclyn in a bra and torn shirt.  She buttons up the shirt by the time she helps Richard get to safety.  He saved her life, so now it makes sense that they are bonding.  "I can't do this.  I don't know how to do this," she mutters to herself as she drives around Zurich with Richard passed out in the car.

Jaclyn spirits them away to the country so they can puzzle it out, trying to guess at who he is, what he knows, etc.  There's the inevitable post-shower moment where Jaclyn is drying her hair by the fire.  He gazes at her longingly as he tries to get her to go back home to Canada.  She wants to go with him to Paris because her economic background can help him at the bank.  And her story has changed.  She doesn't want to help him just because he saved her life, but because she's convinced he's not a killer.

"Put your arms around me, Jason.  I need to be held, even if it's just for tonight.  We need to forget the violence."  That has to be the least well-written invitation to sex either one of these TV cheeseballs has ever uttered.  Literally, she went from discussing her knowledge of banking to bedding him.  And woah, is the love scene a doozie.  By the fire, everything in slow motion, him with scars and scabs, her seemingly perfect, and Laurence Rosenthal's music a mass of violins.  Post-sex, Jaclyn lays her head on his chest like every post-sex scene of the decade and they go back to discussing what was important before they had sex. 

After that, it's off to Paris, thankfully, because I can't take another moment in the country.  In not her best move, Jaclyn had called her co-worker in Canada to find out about Treadstone, a company name Jason remembered.  It's a top-secret CIA group, he tells her on a public phone.  Oh, like he's not going to end up dead?  Our leads then go to the library and microfilm their way through the headlines (yes, microfilm--it's 1988, don't forget) while killing time before going to the bank.  At least they didn't try to have sex again. 

We know for sure Richard isn't Carlos because we see the real Carlos giving orders to kill him and Jaclyn in a confessional booth in a small town.  Our leads, now dressed up as nebbishy tourists, go a-bankin'.  Except that she's been followed into the bank...

And we pause as Part 1 ends.

Part 2 starts with Jaclyn having outwitted the killer (she's getting good at this), and Robert formulating a plan to save her.  It works too.  Jaclyn calls her friend back and guess what?  Dead.  She has something of a nervous breakdown, running around Paris where, of course, the goons find her after about three paces. 

In NYC, a group of very unlikely and idiotic experts finally fill us in on the story.  Jason Bourne is their trained assassin, made that way to kill Carlos.  Either they have done a great job or a lousy job.  None of them seem to know. 

From the banker, they figured out something is going down at a dress shop.  Richard, adopting a Texas twang, goes in and starts picking out dresses (he says for a woman, but...) and because he looks so wealthy, they let him rest in the owner's office while they shop for him.  He finds yet another number on the inside of a drawer.  Why he looked there is any one's guess.

Jaclyn trots off to the Canadian Embassy (which has a gold plaque that says "Canadian Embassy," that's how we know), but there she finds out they just want to use her to get to him.  So, she does what she does best, runs away, slowly enough to be caught by a wheelchair brigade, but faster than the police the Canadians send after her. 

The Parisian dressmaker knows everything about Carlos and Jason and spills all the beans dramatically on a lunchtime cruise down the Seine.  According to her, Jason Bourne and Carlos have been chasing each other around the globe assassinating people in order to top the other one for years.  It's heavy stuff.  Delivered in a heavy accent.

Jaclyn shows up in Richard's room and we get the following discussion, the kind that is no doubt responsible for the entire Canadian inferiority complex.

"I thought you would be in Canada by now."
"They are after you."
"The CANADIANS?" (with a contorted face as if he's holding back a guffaw)
"Everyone."

Oh, and to top that, she confesses that she loves him.  Bring back the violins, folks, but please, not the roaring fire. 

There's a hitch.  As they pass by a newsstand on the way out of Paris, they see Jaclyn's head shot on the front of every paper (she's the only economist with a head shot) claiming she is wanted for the murders in Zurich.  Actually, that is courtesy of the Americans, trying to bring him in.  He has 24 hours or they will kill him.  Really?  How?  They haven't been able to find him so far, now have they?  The Eurogoons attack the NYC brownstone and kill everyone, though two manage to escape . They steal the files, plant his fingerprints, step over the dead bodies and dash.

Jaclyn believes he's not the killer everyone thinks he is, because he has repeatedly saved her.  "I couldn't love the man you believe you are," she says as they argue in circles over whether they should part or turn themselves in.  Then, like a bolt of lightning, Jaclyn sees it all clearly!  All of these images, memories and thoughts have been planted in his head.  He's not really an assassin.  Her monologue ends with, "for God's sake, love me Jason!" and his mind whirls.  What should he do?  Frankly, a life on the run killing famous people for money seems better than listening to her rattle on so, but he picks her.  DUH!

Novels and movies of this ilk are based on incomprehensible plots (allowing for sequels, lost childhoods, all that blather) and this one apparently revolves around a French politician, but not Charles de Gaulle.  The other one.  Richard figures out where Carlos is and rushes after him.  Carlos, dressed as a friar, escapes.  Richard has memories of him dressed as a killer in a jungle.  Oh, and the dressmaker bites it, in the confessional.  Richard goes to some political meeting and hides in the shadows outside.  If you can make sense out of this paragraph, you're a better person than I. 

The French politician, the one who isn't de Gaulle but looks just like him, dresses just like him, etc. (and played by Anthony Quayle) is accosted by Richard, who accuses him of being Carlos' messenger.  So Anthony slaps him across the face with his gloves...twice!  Is this Dumas or Ludlum?  Jaclyn and Richard convince Ze General that zomeone in hiz houze is working for Carloz.  He iz not convinzed, but it turnz out that ze mole is hiz...WIFE!  Of courze he doez not dizcuzz theze matterz with hiz wife, but he doez bring home ze paperz and she muzt go through hiz zafe.  All of zeze people were part of the plot to kill hiz beloved zon. 

There is much chasing and gunfire in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower and we find out that Mrs. Not de Gaulle has been Carlos' lover since age thirteen.  And Richard is not Jason Bourne. Oh, his face has been fixed (tee hee) to look like Bourne, but he's not the killer.  Jaclyn was right after all!  And she's not even smart. 

The last remaining member of the dippy US team explains all the rest of the details to Richard (he taught him to play tennis and talked history on top of coming up with the elaborate cover story to explain The Bourne Identity).  But, he too dies and now no one has any proof, so Richard and Jaclyn have to get Carlos themselves.  Through Mrs. Not de Gaulle, who has been shot by Mr. Not de Gaulle.  Richard gives him a rah rah speech not to kill himself, finally going full tilt for the first time verbally.  He's had to save his energy for all of those physical stunts.  But, it works!

To lure Carlos to them, Richard writes the Treadstone address on dead Mrs. Not de Gaulle's back in lip stick.  Old school, sure, but it just may work!  It does, but it takes a blessed long time to get there, with Jaclyn nervously sweating it out in a nearby car with a Senator (she's bested assassins all over Europe, but she can't overcome an aging Senator at this point?).  Carlos (Yorgo Voyagis, a long way from playing Joseph in "Jesus of Nazareth") shows up and he and Richard grapple in one of those fights where they knock down every wall, break every vase, etc.  Richard is stabbed, but Carlos goes over the railing and...doesn't die like we think he does.  A bunch of people swarm in, Carlos is finally killed and Richard collapses into Jaclyn's arms.  "It's over," she says as he does the wailing this time. 

As I said, we're a long way from "Shogun" in terms of miniseries action bliss, but "The Bourne Identity" isn't horrible either.  Overly long and repetitive, yes, but that's all in the Ludlum book.  As always, and I don't know how, Richard Chamberlain manages to be dashing and convincing, the most unlikely of heroes.  Jaclyn could play this role in her sleep (and did a few times), but the romance would have been utterly ridiculous in any other hands. 

Franka Potente.

She was the female lead in the 2002 version.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Young Catherine (1991)

Here is one of those cheats I mentioned.  "Young Catherine" was originally on a cable network, TNT, which is not a subscription channel.  However, this piece behaves just like its network cousins and a few year earlier would no doubt have popped up on one of them.

This is the story of Catherine the Great of Russia, one of the most notorious of the Romanovs (though she wasn't a Romanov and, most likely, neither were her children, but the Romanovs kept that quiet) and the perfect subject matter for an opulent costume piece/historical drama.  By 1991, wiser heads were prevailing and the opulence of filming her complete life would have been so expensive, not to mention incredibly long, so it was an intelligent decision to stick with just one section of her life.  In capable hands here, it allows for a thrilling piece, full of historical fun plus dashes of romance and adventure that marked the great miniseries of the previous 15 or so years.

We get a brief preview of Catherine's most notorious moment over the credits, but that's just a tease.  We have to start from the beginning.  Or at least the middle of the beginning, since Catherine's pre-Russia years were uneventful. 

We start in 1744 in a small principality in Germany.  Catherine (Julia Ormond, a French actress, but not a terrible stretch since the official court language was French by this point) is busy at her lessons when a delegation from Russia arrives.  Actually, at this point, she is still Sophie, a Protestant.  Sophie and her mother have been commanded to attend the Empress Elizabeth as Sophie has been judged a possible bride for the heir. 

Off her parents go to Frederick the Great (Maximilian Schell, who, only a few years earlier, had played Peter the Great), aging and eccentric, but luckily we don't have to worry about the messiness of his personal life.  Maximilian tells Sophie's mother how to manage Russian politics, especially with the rest of Europe lining up against his country.  Her mother Princess Johanna (Marthe Keller) certainly understands.  It's only her father is sad to let her go, knowing he will most likely never see her again.

On the cold winter journey to Russia, Sophie shows the first signs of the ambition which will label her.  She wants power of her own.  No expense is spared Sophie's entrance into St. Petersburg, the wealthiest European court at the time.  Empress Elizabeth (Vanessa Redgrave) is charmed by Sophie and even gives her a large cross as the assembled courtiers applaud.  All except Count Vorontsov (Franco Nero), who wants a Polish princess on the thrown.  Sophie then has her first dinner with Grand Duke Peter (Reece Dinsdale).  Known to history as a bit mentally-challenged who was fascinated by war and games, he thinks of Sophie as a friend rather than a potential mate.  He has an entire retinue of fake soldiers and plays battle games based on Frederick the Great's battles.  It's immediately clear Sophie is unimpressed by his child-like attitude. 

Empress Elizabeth insists that Sophie become a Russian Orthodox and renamed because she doesn't like Sophie.  Sophie is hesitant, but don't forget that ambition lurking in the back of her mind.  Initially, she finds the idea of idolatry in the Orthodox church problematic, but a kindly priest's explanation of the differences between the faiths starts to win her over (good writing has a tendency to do that). 

Sophie is lucky to meet Sir Charles Williams (Christopher Plummer in a hysterical wig), the English Ambassador.  He's an amusing man, putting her immediately at ease.  "He [the Grand Duke Peter] could not rule a straight line, let alone an empire" and other such witty jokes make him Sophie's first friend in Russia. 

Elizabeth accepts Sophie's conversion to Orthodoxy, but while she's away on a pilgrimage, Count Vorontsov starts poisoning her to get her out of the way, par for the course in Russian history.  Catherine will do far worse in her time!  Her mother is completely clueless as to what is happening, but Count Orlov (Mark Frankel), who fell in love with Sophie as he brought her to Russia, rushes to Elizabeth to tell her of the illness.  Everyone else had avoided telling her.  She rushes to Sophie and realizes she's being poisoned, insisting on sleeping in her room and tasting her food to guard against it. 

However, Elizabeth, always a hothead, finds out Princess Johanna has been sending reports to Frederick the Great and in a huge opus of overacting (which is okay here, because she's Empress of Russia and historically accurate), banishes Johanna.  She is henceforth Catherine and officially Russian Orthodox.  Her betrothed is still officially a bumbling half-wit.  "You've still got me," he says to Catherine upon her mother's banishment.  There's something almost cute about his idiocy, because it is truly innocent. 

When Peter is stricken with "the small pox," Catherine is friendless, save Sir Charles.  But, he survives, shockingly ugly and abhorrent to Catherine.  Peter has been seriously embittered by the experience, vowing to make Russia and Catherine feel his wrath.  He becomes truly demented, at one point holding a rat over a candle until it howls itself to death.  The head priest voices the same sentiments as Sir Charles, that she needs to tough it out because Russia is counting on her to rule when Peter ascends the throne. 

Catherine and Peter are married, and not one person in the church looks happy.  Then comes the honeymoon.  Peter gets very drunk and brings his fake regiment to watch.  Catherine shows her mettle and dismisses them.  Peter has fallen asleep anyway.  The film's writing is at its best when showing this curious relationship.  He cuts his finger and she tenderly helps him, but in a second he snaps and slaps her. 

She's also becoming quite the politician, cutting the Prussian Ambassador down.  "If I'm going to play chess, it's not going to be as a pawn."  "As a queen?" her lady-in-waiting asks as Catherine smiles.  Okay, that's not a great line, rather cliche, but it shows that Catherine is beginning to understand.

Elizabeth finds out that after two years, Catherine is still a virgin and posts Orlov, of all people as sentry.  That's a sure way to get her pregnant if Catherine and Grigory can find a way.  That presents itself when her female guard, Countess Maria, suggests taking a lover.  Sir Charles suggests the Empress is behind that idea.  But, he agrees with the idea and Catherine says she already has one in mind.

"You're offering to fulfill my wildest dreams," Orlov tells him.  The casting if Mark Frankel is ideal as he is impossibly handsome, beefy and regal, as opposed to the wimp playing Peter.  It makes us root for them to be an actual couple, not for him to be just a "stud," as he puts it.  "I want you to teach me everything you know," Catherine says, heavy irony for a woman all of Europe assumed to be a hedonistic slut until the day she died. 

When she tells Sir Charles, he finds out that Peter cannot have sex because his penis is deformed.  Though Peter hates blood, they both know Peter has to have the operation and must consummate the marriage.  Orlov arranges it and the operation takes a mere moment.  They ask him what to tell Peter when he wakes up and the answer is a hoot: tell him that during a game of size comparison and he cut it on a piece of glass...and tell him he won.  Now it's up to Catherine to find a way to get it to work! 

Once again, the writing is sensational in how it treats Catherine here.  Though it happened in real life, her way of getting in with Peter is to dress up as a soldier.  He's over the moon and immediately wants her.  Lesser writing would have kept her a simpering innocent.  This Catherine gets bolder by the day. 

Grigory is posted to Riga as a promotion, saying that his brothers are there for her if she needs anything.  History tells she needed quite a few of them.  Catherine gives birth to Paul and Elizabeth waltzes off with the boy, the nurses and everything but the stained sheets.  The problem now is that Elizabeth has turned against her; she only ever wanted an heir.  This is Vanessa Redgrave at her most imperious.  Paul finally gets his own regiment and all but has an orgasm the first time he sees it.  Catherine is only allowed to see Paul once or twice a year!  But, as solace, she has become very popular with the people and Sir Charles tells her even King George would provide assistance, not to mention how much the army loves her.

Not happy about events is Frederick the Great, who considers himself a man of peace (funny, everyone else in the world considered him the greatest warmonger of his generation).  He has decided to mobilize for war against the rest of Europe, and Catherine has to be very careful of whom to trust in Russia as Europe rattles sabers.

Closer to home, Catherine is finding Peter increasingly mad.  Vorontsov plays him like a puppet, installing a sexually rapacious mistress in his bed and pushing an alliance with his hero Frederick the Great.  Peter is just idiotic enough to believe he would somehow emerge from that victorious and in control.  These events also force Sir Charles home, as England and Prussia are allies.  Before leaving, he tells Catherine she is the one great hope for Russia, to "bring it out of the dark ages" not only with military might, but also with culture and the arts, of which Russia had precious little to compete with Western Europe. 

The last remaining piece falls into place when Grigory returns to St. Petersburg.  The chemistry between Julia Ormond and Mark Frankel is palpable, and though Catherine was known to be an opportunist when it came to men, it seems her love for Grigory was genuine (and necessary, which didn't hurt).

All plans are about to be undermined when Elizabeth is made aware (via Vorontsov) of Catherine's letters, but Catherine goes to the dying Empress and makes a plea for her life, saying she's worried for Elizabeth's life should Russia be attacked, not for personal glory.  In a master stroke, she even begs to be sent back to her parents.  Elizabeth takes Catherine's side, and the gleam in Vanessa Redgrave's eye shows that Elizabeth knows the only hope for Russia after her death is Catherine, not Peter and those pushing him. 

With Frederick the Great on the battlefield, Elizabeth is dying.  "The old bitch is taking her time," Peter snaps.  Peter is too stupid to show much affection for Elizabeth, but Catherine has become too experienced a politician to play it any other way than concerned family member.  Unfortunately for Vanessa, she is forced to play a dying scene that is laughable, one of those "I'm talking one minute then paralyzed the next as I collapse on the pillow, eyes open" things. 

Peter has decided to actually try to rule.  He has Catherine stricken from all records and even wears the uniform of Frederick, which even Vorontsov finds alarming considering the war.  Peter demands that the army, at the gates of Berlin, be pulled back, which makes no logical sense for the war and now even Vorontsov knows Peter's rule will be untenable.  When Peter declares no one is allowed to mourn for his aunt, there is hardly anyone left who wants him in power. 

Catherine has around her enough guards, the church, Grigory and a power symbol in herself.  They all urge her to use these facts to seize power.  Events move at a very brisk pace in this part of the movie, as they did in real life, and the sense of adventure is dynamite.  This is TV at its finest, able to grab the viewer with the same force as any high-budget movie (although commercials would have, of course, dulled the effect somewhat). 

In one of her most politically effective maneuvers, Catherine puts on the uniform of her soldiers, immediately making herself one of them, and then whips them into a frenzy as she recounts Peter's ongoing destruction of "the true Russia."  It's one of those speeches John Wayne would have said and had an entire movie theater cheering, with the music swelling to gigantic proportions.  On her way to the palace, she has Grigory freed so he can be with her at her triumphant moment. 

Encountering a force of Vorontsov's men, Catherine is bolder than ever, riding between the garrison's and telling anyone who has the guts to fire on their Empress to do so.  Vorontsov orders them to fire, but they all lay down their arms and refuse.  To keep the people on her side, Catherine must remain a presence in St. Petersburg, merely showing up on the balcony with Paul.  Peter's only hope is Frederick the Great.  "We must move today.  We must cave the monster, but no harm must come to him.  I will not start my reign with the blood of my husband," she tells her team.  She's learned politics in a few short years that will keep her on the throne until her death. 

It's decided by her followers that Peter must be killed, against her express orders, though she is to know nothing of it.  Grigory insists he has to do it because of his relationship with Catherine.  He tells her what he's done, knowing full well that it may mean his own death.  After a tearful goodbye, he leaves her (for now).  Frederick the Great refuses to help the anti-Catherine faction and Catherine has a clear path to be crowned Empress in her own right.  A minor German princess is now the ruler of all the Russias. 

I may be somewhat biased in favor of Catherine the Great as I find her one of history's most fascinating rulers, but that doesn't mean I cannot separate the woman from the story.  Luckily, this time, I did not have to.  The story is every bit as thrilling as the real-life events.  Dripping with taste and exactitude, "Young Catherine" is a rare example of the miniseries in decline but still able to grip.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

East of Eden (1981)

Taking on a TV miniseries version of of Steinbeck's "East of Eden" is daunting for many reasons.  First, the original movie, though concentrating on just a portion of the novel, is iconic (if not very good).  Second, it's a sweeping saga of multiple generations, but one with heft and meaning, rather than just a juicy story.  "East of Eden" is complex, its characters all flawed and difficult, but reading it is a special experience.  Watching it is a bit tougher.  This version suffers from questionable acting, with one exception, and it's a giant one: Jane Seymour.  In a career full of amazing work, her Cathy Ames may be her greatest creation of all. 

In good old moralizing TV rule booking, Mrs. Trask finds out in the very first scene that she has contracted "Cupid's Itch," which she thinks came from dreaming about other men than her husband and she quickly offs herself by wearing virgin white to her suicide trip to the pond.  That leaves Cyrus Trask to raise Adam, feeding him alcohol to shut him.  Not to worry, Cyrus quickly marries again and has another son. 

Timothy Bottoms plays Adam Trask and Bruce Boxleitner plays Charles Trask, with a temper evident from his first appearance.  John Steinbeck was not subtle in writing "East of Eden," just look at the names, and at Pa's birthday, Charles gives him a pocket knife quickly thrown into the drawer while sweet-to-the-point of near retardation, gives him a cute puppy.  Alice Trask starts coughing, a sure sign wife #2 is headed the way of wife #1.

Evil to the point that the audience wants him to die soon, Cyrus insists poor meek Adam join the army.  Adam does not want to go, but Cyrus wants Adam to develop courage.  Charles makes it worse by taunting Adam about this relationship with Pa.  And for extra measure, Charles beats the crap out of Adam. 

Adam goes off to fight the Indians and Charles is suddenly very sorry that he hated Adam so much.  Cyrus pulls strings to get Adam a better military job, and Adam, no longer bordering on retardation, seems happy to accept if only because he's drunk.  He's grown bitter, especially having to burn the body of his gal pal, felled by Small Pox.  He refuses Cyrus' offer and returns to the Indians. 

We then meet Cathy, in the barn showing off her naughty parts to two young boys, so her mother scrubs her hard as punishment.  Her mother wears a big cross, so we know she's a religious zealot.  Mrs. Ames is one tough dame.  She insists the fathers of the boys beat them...naked!  Cathy watches with a smile.

Grown up, Cathy, our beloved Jane Seymour, is still a flirt.  Hell, she's even working the teacher to assure good grades.  Teach is so distraught at being used, he kills himself...with a gun...in church!  Badass Cathy kills her parents and burns the house down before leaving town, with everyone assuming she's been kidnapped. 

Adam has been tramping around the world and finally comes home to roost.  Pa is dead and Charles is acting all weird.  It turns out Cyrus had a will that leads the boys to the conclusion that he was a thief.  Adam isn't at all upset, acting as crazy as, well, Charles used to be, and Charles is the sane one. 

Charles takes Adam to a whorehouse, but the whores have moved over to the local revival meetings, so their boss (Howard Duff) smacks 'em silly.  They have found religion, must to the chagrin of the boss.

Sly Cathy finds the whore master and asks for a job, spinning a yarn that she needs the money for her poor indigent mother and by the next scene, she's his kept woman, dressing in furs and picking out expensive nick knacks.  She is pulling a royal scam on him, and when she gets drunk, she whirls around the room in a macabre dance of truth.  Jules takes her out to the woods and beats her, coincidentally on the Trask property.  Permanently scarred, Adam decides they should keep her

Cathy plays the brothers against each other and if you aren't used to Jane Seymour playing a bad girl, her performance truly is something to see.  It's not just because Timothy Bottoms and Bruce Boxleitner are pretty bad, but more because she is luminous.  Adam is completely in love with her, but she seduces Charles, who hasn't exactly been her biggest fan.

Cathy marries Adam, but sleeps with Charles before convincing Adam to take her away to California.  She discovers she's pregnant and pulls out the knitting needle, but has terrible aim, according to the doctor, and the baby is okay (but he's a lousy doctor if he doesn't realize there are two in there).

Part 2 begins almost exactly where we left off.  Adam finds out Cathy is pregnant and he goes all goofy with happiness, deciding to turn his land into a garden.  "Just like your namesake," says his neighbor Samuel.  The Biblical symbolism is obvious, but again, Steinbeck was anything but subtle.  When Samuel reminds Adam of Eve and the apple, Adam goes double goofy praising how good a woman she is.  Oh, she's good, but not like that! 

However, breaking the movie's agreement for all to stay on the right side of overacting, Lloyd Bridges gives a hoot-and-a-half performance when he thinks he's discovered water.  He looks like a homeless man talking to the moon. 

With the house comes Asian servant Lee, played with voracious delight by Soon-Teck Oh, piling on the pigeon English, replete with a lack of the letter r over and over.  He's onto her from the beginning and she treats him with contempt. 

When Cathy goes into labor, she becomes The Exorcist, snarling and raging and biting Sam's hand, in time to the dynamiting gong on outside where Sam's son's have found water.  The birth scene is, well, unique.  It's true to the characters, but chewy.  Cathy wants nothing to do with her twins.  Or Adam for that matter.  He can stay in the room, "but don't talk" she says like a serpent. 

Sam figures out Lee's secret: he's not FOB Chinese.  He speaks perfect English and only bothers with the charade because it's what is expected of him.  As in the novel, Lee is the smartest person in the story, and as played beautifully by Soon-Teck Oh, he'll keep the Trask family together. 

A week later, Cathy leaves Adam without a tear and nothing but malice in her spirit.  He initially forces her to stay, but she shoots him in the shoulder and bolts.  It's going to be a looooooooong section without her.  Still, Adam pretends he shot himself, though no one really believes that.  Lee has to lay it on thick to keep the authorities at bay.  Timothy Bottoms' understated style comes in handy for the first time.  It's only been somewhat annoying up until now. 

Cathy ends up in a whorehouse where the sheriff tracks her down.  He won't prosecute her if she stays silent and never visits her sons.  That's certainly no problem!  For her next move, she goes to work for Fay (a delicious Anne Baxter), who takes to her very quickly, so quickly that Fay leaves her the house.  Since Fay is obviously dying, it won't be long before Cathy is a whore master herself!  Now called Kate, she makes the mistake of drinking wine, which we know doesn't agree with her and she goes all manic on Fay.  Jane Seymour trumps the mistress of these types of character, Anne Baxter, turning in her finest work so far.  Fay will live after Kate sedates her, but it's Kate's house now. 

Fifteen months later, Adam has let the farm go to ruin and hasn't even given his sons names (Lee isn't playing Charlie Chan, so they aren't #1 and #2).  Sam has to crack him across the face to get Adam to wake up from his stupor.  There ensues a weird scene where they decide to name the boys, finally using the Cain and Abel story.  What makes the scene so odd is the acting styles.  Timothy Bottoms goes for his "I'm hiding from the world" understatement, Lloyd Bridges is cuckoo, so thankfully we have Soon-Tech Oh to set a standard.  They discuss the Biblical story and read the entire damn thing in a scene desperate for trimming. 

Oh, during the previous conversation, Sam had coughed, so in the next scene, he's dead.  I didn't need to tell you that.  Everyone knows what a TV cough means. 

Adam goes to Monterrey to see Kate, who has managed to get Fay dead and now runs the successful establishment.  Kate remains lofty and superior, and poor Adam is still in love with her.  Kate tries to seduce him to prove how evil she is, but he refuses and she goes wild.  After her bouncer beats him up, Kate tells him how much she hates him and it's catharsis for Adam, who can finally leave her.  But, she has one last surprise for him and tells him the boys are Charles'.  Whether he believes it or not, the symbolism of him walking away in a rainstorm is also TV cliche, and he's rid of her for good.  That's the end of Part 2.

Ever the doormat, Adam decides not to confront Charles about it and he will raise the boys.  He then apologizes to Lee for yelling at him after Sam's funeral. 

Cal (Sam Bottoms) is a somewhat bad kid.  Aron (Hart Bochner) is a tatte-tale weakling in love with Abra (Karen Allen).  Unlike his real-life brother, Sam has already spent more energy acting than Timothy has in two parts of the story. 

Cal learns from Tom Hamilton that the story Adam had told them about his mother is a lie and goes to Monterrey, hiding in the bushes when Kate passes by.  Meanwhile, to show how "good" Aron is, he's at home dancing innocently to records with Abra and his father.  Cal has a plan to send a refrigerated wreath to her grave, knowing full well she's not dead, but Aron and Abra try to stop him.  Since Sam Bottoms is the only one acting, that's not likely.  Oh, and Cal invents refrigerated veggies during this conversation.

Aron invites his whole family to his confirmation, a surprise to all of them, and he plans to be in the church.  When the pastor speaks to all of them and inquires about their religion, Lee has one of the movie's best lines when he says, "I'm a heathen, but I'm still trying."

Adam goes to successful car dealer Will Hamilton (Richard Masur) and pitches the frozen lettuce idea.  Tom says it will never work and then we get a montage of it working (all Tim Bottoms has to do is stand there, and that he manages better than just about anything he's done so far).  Unfortunately, one shipment sits idle in the Chicago stockyards and it almost ruins the whole business.  Aron is frustrated at being the talk of the town and after Abra offers to quit school and raise money, a bully at the local ice cream shoppe (where else would Aron and Abra be hanging out?) insults them and Cal happens by to dump ice cream on the bullies.  There is tension. 

Cal returns to Monterrey and sneaks into Kate's with a fraternity.  He speaks to Kate, but not long enough to tell her she's his mother as a raid gets in the way.  The sheriff has aged right along with Kate, still going strong.  Cal and Adam have an insanely long conversation about it, without Adam telling him the whole truth.  It's the first time father and son have really talked.  Near the end, Cal drops the bomb about Kate, that he knows all, but as Lee says, "it doesn't seem to have hurt his disposition at all." 

In fact, he goes into business with Will Hamilton, who speaks to Cal like he's about to screw him over big time.  He gets the money to invest from Lee, after threatening to get it from his mother.

He does, however, pay Kate a visit.  Gnarled with arthritis and living in a window-less crypt, she's as ornery as ever.  With false teeth and a bunch of make-up, she's aged very well, except for the hands, of course.  She fires every question at him, but he only wants to know why she shot Adam.  Jane has a phenomenal monologue, delivered at empty space, and handles it with the scary flair she's constantly exhibited.  Cal can see through her wickedness and, not able to handle it, sends him away.

Aron is on his way to becoming a minister and Kate can't resist showing up to see a sermon.  And no, she doesn't burn as soon as she walks into church. 

World War I starts and Aron picks that night to tell Abra he has to remain a virgin for the church.  She goes to Cal to talk about it.  "You do bad things, don't you?  You, you go to bad houses," she says, sitting on a lettuce truck with him.  She was really counting on having sex with Aron, but Cal makes her laugh by suggestion the minister with whom Aron studies doesn't even go to the bathroom, let alone have sex. 

Aron goes off to school, but hates it.  He's not cut out for it.  He's a sweet one, this kid, but not bright.  At least Adam had some sense in him.  Cal indeed makes money with Mr. Hamilton and the family has a big celebration (of bad acting) for Thanksgiving.  After Aron entertains them with college stories, Cal gives his father $15k, but Adam refuses it because he feels it came from war profiteering.  It's an unfair way of looking at it, and the reaction brings out the worst in Cal.  Lee, as always, is the voice of reason, telling Cal that all of his decisions are his, not his mother's or his father's. 

But Cal chooses incorrectly.  He takes Aron to meet Kate.  As Cal probably expected, Aron reacts violently to this, but Kate is already half-crazed anyway, in her light-less chamber.  Wise Lee knows when Aron comes home exactly what Cal has done (though he does of course have to wail something to effect of "am I my brother's keeper" to once again hammer in the symbolism) and rushes to his room to find Cal burning the money his father wouldn't accept.  "I don't want to be mean," Cal says, believing it's simply his nature.  In his rage, Aron joins the army, setting us up for the massive dramatic climax of Biblical proportions that can only come from a saga like this. 

With Aron gone and sending no letters, Abra realizes she's not in love with him.  Unfortunately for us, we learn this during a particularly dire scene at the ocean that gives Karen way more dialogue than she can handle.  She admits her love for Cal and they kiss.  It's a shame that Sam Bottoms had to share this scene with Karen Allen, because he's been doing just fine, not dragged down by those around him until now. 

Aron dies and Adam has a stroke upon hearing the news.  Cal tells Adam all, that he feels responsible for everything, though Lee tries to make it better, ultimately sending Abra after him instead.  They return home where Lee whispers to Adam to give Cal his blessing, his forgiveness and Adam dies.

That's heavy stuff for a miniseries.  Unlike something like "War and Remembrance," which sets itself a background of a popular war in order to insulate its characters or even "The Adams Chronicles," where the characters have a hand in inventing their historical times, "East of Eden" exists only on a fictional level, with no real-life characters, much in the same vein as "Rich Man, Poor Man," although on a firmer foundation of literature.  And, unlike filming a Bible story, it has far more baggage.  At over six hours, it would have required far more precision to make it exceptional.  Instead, it's solid and even very good, but it definitely sags.  The third portion is definitely the toughest because Jane Seymour is absent and her performance is the best to watch (so is her character, a deeply flawed cretin who actually enjoys being that way).  That brings up the question in American miniseries of how much actual good acting is required.  Certainly popular TV of the time was not popular because of its acting.  John Ritter racked up Emmy nominations for "Three's Company," but is that really good acting?  Other than Barbara Bel Geddes, not one of the main actors from the wildly popular "Dallas" were even nominated.  Acting back then was secondary to not only story, but the way story was told (outrageous comedy, outrageous camp or seriously deep drama).  If we had to rely on Robert Mitchum's Pug Adams in the Herman Wouk epics, no one would have watched beyond the first night.  As much grand tradition heft Lynn Redgrave brought to "Centennial," its historical sweep did not allow her a lot of screen time.

But, in "East of Eden" all that is important is the way the characters play the story to make it believable, because if they don't, this simply becomes, well, the vapid James Dean version with no soul.  Sam Bottoms and Soon-Tech Oh seem to understand that they need to focus on characterizations to keep the story potent, but it's the truly magnetic Jane Seymour who holds "East of Eden" together.  She had been doing miniseries for a decade before this and is still a television icon in 2010 because of performances like this.  Without her Kate, a tragic angry figure who asks for and receives no sympathy, this miniseries if a great American novel may have been a footnote no more remembered than the miniseries versions of not great American novels.

Noble House (1988)

The success of Shogun in 1980 beget two further James Clavell miniseries, "Tai-Pan" in 1986 and "Noble House" in 1988, diminishing returns certainly, but"Noble House" borders on incomprehensible at times because it tries to squeeze an enormous book with oodles of plots into six hours of screen time, mostly taken up by talk of finance.  Plots start and stop at the whim of the director, so it lacks cohesion.  Perhaps James Clavell was too busy working on the musical version of "Shogun" he was preparing at the time (with the composer who did the keyboard-drenched music for "Noble House") to give this one his full attention.
"Noble House" begins with a very ominous prologue.  It's a terribly rainy June night and Pierce Brosnan as Ian Dunross, nostrils flaring but so handsome it's almost unbelievable, arrives as Noble House, a family-held company for over a century.  He's there to take over the reigns of this august Hong Kong-based company from Denholm Elliott in an ages-old ceremony that involves a will, a Bible, two witnesses and a whole heap of responsibility...oh, and a curse regarding coins split in two.  Pierce is now Tai-Pan of the company and his word is law. 

Three years later, at the company's 150th birthday, Pierce is in a far better mood, but no less savvy an operator.  He's gotten the company into bed with a Los Angeles-based company that he thinks will make millions, but everyone else at the party seems unsure since it's owner, Linc Bartlett, as played by Ben Masters, is a corporate raider.

Ben arrives in Hong Kong with Deborah Raffin (the go-to girl of 80s TV movies when you wanted the rest of the cast to shine instead of the leading lady) in tow, met at the airport by Pierce's inherited second-in-command/flunky Burt Kwouk and Superintendent Armstrong (Gordon Jackson).  Deborah goes to Ben's hotel room in a flimsy one-piece and white stockings to tell Ben all they know about Pierce.  They fully intend to swoop in, take Noble House and swoop out just as quickly.  Ben is so sure and cocky that we know he'll meet a bad end, no matter how long it takes to get there. 

Deborah, in another pair of white stockings, meets Pierce the next day right at the elevator bank.  Pierce tells her about feng-shui as her introduction to everything Asian.  Ben delays his meeting at Noble House by going to John Rhys-Davies' company where the latter offers what seems a better deal and then goes on to trash the whole history of Noble House.  John (a hold-over from "Shogun" and playing basically the same character) is hell-bent on destroying Pierce and his company.  John gives us our big lesson for the twentieth time (nearly every character has so far said it in almost the same words): "We do things differently in Hong Kong."  Ben would seem to be out of his comfort zone, but he's not really impressed by John's machinations.  He is, however, impressed by Julia Nickson, a local TV reporter, arriving just as he's leaving.  Julia is instructed to make Ben fall in love with her as a distraction. 

Ben heads across the street to meet Pierce, who has already been told of his first meeting by his super-efficient secretary Nancy Kwan.  Ben's American cowboy routine is going to get old very quickly.  Obviously the smarter of the two on the team is Deborah, whose desire to make it in a man's world is apparently her overarching desire. 

The business propositions are put on hold when Pierce finds out Burt's son has been kidnapped.  There are two things very upsetting about it: first, the son had arrived on the plane with Ben and Deborah as a leverage chip and second, and this is unknown to everyone, the son (Steven Leigh) has the other half of the coin that has been missing since the first scene (or probably longer, but that's the first we saw of it).  Burt finds out that Steven has been selling out the company secrets to Ben and that he has taken the half a coin.  He curses his son to hell in the best Medea-like fashion.  Pierce's way of dealing with the situation is to call on Khigh Dhiegh, who knows everything that goes on in Hong Kong (and who is worth $50 million, we find out a few scenes later).

Can you guess what Deborah wears to Pierce's party that night?  Yes, white stockings.  She learns all about the company history and the reasons John Rhys-Davies and Pierce are at odds (she could have just watched "Tai-Pan").  Ben roams the party and meets all of Hong Kong's power players, meeting Julia again in her role as seductress.  Every mouth drops when John shows up.  Eyebrows can't be raised higher than they are now among Hong Kong's fey elite.  Ben tries to shove his deal down Pierce's throat, but Pierce doesn't agree to the terms, and Ben relents.  The only sticking point seems to be that Ben demands Pierce sign the deal with Deborah, not with him.  "A tai-pan only deals with a tai-pan," Pierce says, but it's not up for argument as far as Ben is concerned. 

By the very fact that he's singing in the car, on a twisty small road means John Rhys-Davies is going to be in an accident (do you remember a 70s or 80s TV show where it doesn't happen?).  The brakes are cut, but John survives.  John is more interested in bringing Ben into his fold and destroying Pierce, though business propositions that are not at all exciting. 

The kidnappers are a rather dimwitted gang and right before the credits roll to end the first episode, they have killed Steven and found the half coin around his neck, thinking it worthless. 

The second part opens with Pierce taking Ben and White Stockings (yes, again) to dinner.  Ben wants "Chinese food...you know, egg roll, chop suey..." and Pierce takes them for a stop first to see his gold bullion.  Ben is worried that Deborah is falling for Pierce, and warns her against it.  "Pick another guy...another time, another place," and Deborah chirps, "you're the boss."  "You bet I am."  It's dialogue this dimwitted that makes me long for "Shogun," where no one spoke English.  There are a few dozen characters already, and not one of them has strung two intelligent sentences together yet (there isn't a hint of humor in "Noble House," so everyone has to be as serious as the bankers they are playing). 

Our two villains cut a deal.  Ben fronts all the money for a corporate raid on the Noble House and John will spread rumors to get the stock to fall (as he's done with a small bank to prove to Ben how important an operator he is).  For $4 million ($31 Hong Kong dollars) in a Swiss bank account #181819 (it was the most interesting moment of a dull conversation, that's the only reason I remembered it), John and Ben will ruin Noble House.  Bed finally lets White Stockings (yes, another day, another pair) in on his nefarious scheme and she likes the fact of playing both sides against the other, but I think we're all pretty sure when the chips are falling, Deborah will side with Pierce, no? 

Here comes the hail storm.  Pierce, Ben and Deborah stand watching the Hong Kong stock exchange while John dumps his Noble House stock and as the entire economy reels, Pierce buys up all the dumped stock, actually yelling above the huge din in the stock exchange and everyone stops chattering.  Pierce and John argue with everyone listening.  Now really!

Pierce goes to Khieg to borrow the money he needs to cover the losses, but Khieg wants Noble House ships to carry drugs in return.  White Stockings shows up for a drink with Pierce wearing black stockings (and a black dress, who the hell designed this?).  Ben chases Julia, asking her to be his date at a charity benefit that night where all of the players will regroup.  These people do nothing but sip champagne and gossip. 

The kidnappers get the ransom money, despite the fact that their captive is dead, but they have only about six seconds to enjoy it before Khieg's goons burst in and find out the truth.  More bad news for Noble House. 

At the party that night, Khieg shows up with everybody's favorite mistress (literally, she has a few sugar daddies among the banking community), Tia Carrere, as Venus Poon.  Yup, Venus Poon.  Thank goodness the world wasn't fully PC by 1988.  She even has a tea-cup puppy.  Frankly, her few seconds of screen time are more interesting than the conversations at the party, more about runs of banks, dirty deals and everyone pretending to be friendly.  The eye game is playing with fervor.  John looking at Ben arriving with Julia, Deborah noticing then eyeing Pierce.  "This is Hong Kong, everybody..."  Yeah, yeah, you can finish that sentence.

Just when you want to duck out of yet another series of ring 'round the room advances, a fire starts in the kitchen.  Oh, I forgot to mention this party is on a floating boat.  Pierce tries to stop everyone from panicking (it's not even his party), but no one wants a Chinese Poseidon Adventure.  It's not a good time to be an extra.  Some jump into the river on fire, some have hefty women fall on them and some get to jump four stories into the water in sequins.  Our principals are trapped on the top floor and Deborah jumps first...but not before removing her dress to reveal the black stockings are patterned!  Why did she remove her dress and no one else did?  Next jumps Julia, who can't swim and then Ben jumps off with a pregnant woman we've never met.  That leaves Pierce and John, the latter deciding to tell Pierce he still intends to sell more stock the next day.  You know Pierce Brosnan, "unflappable" is his career middle name. 

Khieg's henchmen find the half coin on Noble House Chen Number One Son (that's their dialogue, not mine) and the police find his body.  The Chinese Superintendent, the one who isn't a moron, brings the news to Pierce, who reacts by asking him out for drinks later that night.

Ben goes over to Julia's, and she's looking sexy in shoulder pads and satin.  Ben sees a picture of her with John Rhys-Davies and Julia explains that they were a couple together, her first love.  She also reveals she's 25, which seems rather unlikely.  As she tells the story, guess what she says?  "This is Hong Kong. I'd rather you hear it from me."  WE KNOW!!!!!!!  Hong Kong is small and people talk.  After flirting with Ben, she stops him when he starts to kiss her.  You see, she has to be in love, and she's not in love with him.  With anyone, she says.  If ever there were a stupid soap opera scene, this is it. 

The White Stockings are back.  She brings up Julia and Ben gets a lot defensive.  For someone so smart, he's gone all dumb for Julia.  A true villain. 

The second episode draws to an end as the police get some baffling information and the leads have yet another financial "it's all a game" chat. 

The third portion starts with Julia apologizing to Ben.  "I'm sorry I was such a twit."  He's fine with that, the lovestruck fool!  She then prattles on about the financial goings-on, only to say not to listen to anything she says.  Is this dame bipolar?

Khieg is a very bad man.  Not only does he kill the one remaining kidnapper, making sure if it's discovered, his son will take the fall and then turns his attentions to his drug business. 

You know something?  Everyone in the movie calls him Tai-Pan, so I will try to call him Pierce-Pan from now on, for consistency with the movie.  That drink planned with the Chinese Superintendent?  Go figure, the guy isn't there.  He's being held in prison, subjected to every torture but waterboarding as they think he is a Chinese spy (do Chinese spies break under the use of LSD-trip music and visuals?  If so, why not just show him "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls" over and over, or perhaps drone out "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'" like they did with the Branch Davidians).

I'll spare everyone the scene where Ben and Julia visit a whorehouse and Julia offers to buy any girl Ben wants and skip right to Pierce-Pan and White Stockings having a private dinner, where White Stockings (in all black since dinner is on a boat--she's learned her lesson from the night before) spills her dull life story and continues to chatter even after Pierce-Pan has started to kiss her.  No one in this film ever gets laid!

From that romantic near-escapade, Pierce-Pan heads off to Khieg and son (pretending to be nephew).  Khieg produces half a coin and demands a favor, even though Pierce-Pan knows it's a stolen coin as Khieg's half coin is already accounted for (this is the coin from Noble House Chen First Son).

Pierce-Pan is without many friends.  He lowers himself to playing golf with representative from the man from Bank of China, a man who definitely seems the face of Communism, and ever has since the first scene.  He won't put up the money, but he knows of a Chinese conglomerate who might.  Another option is one of the dud financial friends Pierce-Pan who has, but he has to go to Macao to meet him. 

Another friend list is trusty second-in-command Phillip.  He admits to Pierce-Pan that his son had been working for Ben and had all their secrets.  That is one Pissed Pierce-Pan.

White Stockings (in her first pair of  pants) is swept off to Macao by Pierce-Pan.  See, he can be ruthless and romantic at the same time.  Of course, they spend the trip discussing plans to outwit Ben, so romance is hard to manage when White Stockings spends the boat ride sounding like a useless middle page of The Wall Street Journal. 

Proving once again that "Noble House" has no sense of place, Ben and Julia waste an entire good beach walk by hearing Julia's history (which he's heard from John already). 

After a 20-second tour of Macao, Pierce-Pan and his ally there sit down for a (zzzzzzz) financial discussion.  Pierce-Pan and White Stockings go gambling where, of course, White Stockings, who professes to always lose, wins big.  Then we get the standard 1980s bed scene: woman wrapped tight in a sheet, rests head on hairy hunk's chest during muted-tone discussion. 

In an otherwise useless scene, Kheig does come up with a good line speaking of Pierce-Pan and White Stockings in bed: "I am pleased that one American is doing what the other is trying to do to him."

A lot is riding on the races, a miniature version of the financial dealings, so John tells his jockey he either beats Pierce-Pan's horse or he never works again.  Someone has tampered with Pierce-Pan's horse to make it even touchier.  Our whole cast goes off to the races, which enchants White Stockings, mainly because she thrills to the pricey sky box Pierce-Pan owns.  John makes a very strange offer to White Stockings to take her on a boat ride the next day, despite a meteorological chance of rain.  Everyone is at the races.  Both of Virgin Poon's elderly suitors included.  When one sees her with the other, he levels this classic oath: "May the gods curse you both.  Even with all the techniques I've taught her, you can't make a wet noodle dance."  Of course, that's immediately followed by another financial scheme I'm too dumb to understand and the third portion ends.  Not a moment too soon, frankly, but so far, Part 3 is the dullest.  Where is the Clavell action?

In Part 4 is the answer.  Back at the races, Pierce-Pan invites a "strange group" of people to his box for some news later and the Victoria Bank acquires the Ho Pak Bank, the one John made to under to prove to Ben how unscrupulous he could be.  Pierce-Pan let's a man who has to be the world's biggest jokey win.  Price-Pan tells the gang that he's has made some fancy deal, proving that Noble House may be down, but not out yet!

Then the big race comes.  John and Pierce-Pan's horses are the only ones that matter and everyone is tense watching them.  John's jockey, no better than his boss, smacks Pierce-Pan's jokey with his crop, not only throwing him from his horse, but killing him.  John fully approves.

The Bank of China won't help Pierce-Pan, but a conglomerate from The Middle King will on his recommendation.  He has to go to Beijing in secret.  That causes much consternation from White Stockings, who makes it a reason for a fight.  Sex the night before must have been that good and if she can't get it again tonight, she might as well get all pissy.

The head of the conglomerate is an old friend of Pierce-Pan's.  They haven't seen each other in 25 years.  His friend puts a bunch of business terms on it, and also an extra one: get the Superintendent out of jail. 

Every time Julia has appeared on screen, she gets porn music played behind her, but now that she and Ben are in love, it's arch romance.  She wants to be with him in one sentence and in the next, she says she can't.  Again, the dialogue is so vapid even daytime soaps wouldn't use it.  In their next scene, they have sex and the porn music is back.

John takes White Stockings (in pants again, and all dressed up) on a boat ride.  She goes along hoping to learn something about his intentions for Noble House, but he's far too smart to let anything important slip.  And then it gets ugly.  John puts the moves on White Stockings, and it's obvious she wouldn't stand a chance if he really wanted to do it because he's about 200 pounds larger.  The script gives White Stockings an opportunity to prove how truly lacking she is upstairs.  Indignant, she begs to be let out of the locked room.  "Turn the handle the other way," John says.  She didn't even think to try that?  And this is a woman managing a multi-billion dollar company?  When he lets her off the boat, he's still laughing nefariously. 

Pierce-Pan races to the Governor (John Houseman, looking about 176 years old) to ask his help in the release of the arrested Superintendent.  The Commissioner is also there, arguing the case on the opposite.  Pierce-Pan argues that without Chinese support, Hong Kong business will die.  "It is not blackmail...it is survival," he roars, surprising the Governor and Commissioner. 

Finally, 45 minutes before the end, we get a patented bit of Clavell-ex-machina (he likes storms, earthquakes and the like) when a landslide destroys a gigantic building.  It happens to be the building in which Khieg is playing with Venus Poon and Ben is resting after Julia went out to buy some food.  As she and White Stockings watch in horror, Pierce-Pan jumps in to help and even John agrees to help since Ben is in there.  The script makes John so utterly reprehensible that he accuses Pierce-Pan of going in to find him simply for the upcoming deal.  Ben is trapped, but alive, and able to discuss business.  Not so lucky is Khieg.  Hi son finds his body and takes the half coin from it. 

"How tough is it to get married in Hong Kong?" Ben asks, just seconds before another landslide drowns him.  Awwwwwww.

John had heard Pierce-Pan telling Ben that Noble House was going to be saved by the Chinese conglomerate and that news ruins all plans John had. 

For absolutely no reason at all but to prove herself, White Stockings (wearing none this time) fires her next-in-line when he pisses her off (this is the first time we've even met him).  She's an 80s-style bitch now.

Kiegh's son comes to Pierce-Pan, showing him the coin and demanding his favor.  Actually, he makes a bunch of demands, and the only one Pierce-Pan is hesitant about is to help him get in on the Macao gambling.  Just as that meeting ends, Pearl Cream Queen Nancy Kwan tells him the release of his friend the Superintendent is happening.  Pierce-Pan is there to watch him cross the boarder.  He does so and Noble House is saved. 

White Stockings, who has been suspicious of Julia all along, pays her a visit.  Julia goes full Camille portraying a grief-stricken "widow."  White Stockings invites Julia to return to America with her and they both hope they can be friends.  At least that's wrapped up too!  That was a far more important plo...oh, hell, no one ever cared about it. 

Pierce-Pan wants White Stockings-Pan (she's the head of Ben's company now) to stay in Hong Kong, but she has to go back to the US.  "I bet you've never kissed a Tai-Pan before," she says.  "Not in the lobby of this hotel," Pierce-Pan coos back. 

Now it only remains to finish off John, but with a twist.  John would be ruined if Pierce-Pan opens the stock market with a planned high price for Noble House stock, but he allows John to buy in cheaper because the two know they can't play the game without each other. 

Pierce-Pan and White Stockings-Pan have a kiss-off at the end, but she says she'll be back.  I'm sure all of Hong Kong is hoping otherwise.  The Tai-Pan can do better, even if Venus Poon is dead. 

The energy and adventure of of "Shogun" is long gone by the time "Noble House" even starts.  Perhaps because this is technically a piece about the undramatic topic of finance, or because massive chunks of Clavell's book have disappeared to keep this to a viable length or perhaps because the acting, save the deadpan honesty of Pierce Brosnan and the gleefully nastiness of John Rhys-Davies, is plain bad, this piece speaks of a dying art form, the miniseries in decline, going for glitz with nothing much to back it up.