Malibu (1983)

"Malibu" boasts one of the best miniseries casts of slumming vets ever...and manages to waste them all!  Well let's be fair it's "Malibu" that is so hysterically awful that the vets don't have much chance of shining, but they do their share of contributing to the glop of it all.  Notably, they are matched by the younger generation, every bit as bad, which guarantees slumming vets in the future (if the miniseries should ever return).

It all starts with Anthony Newley singing the title song with his usual brand of hokum, though this is not "What Kind of Fool Am I?" or "Who Can I Turn To?" which he wrote for his personal style to charm the back of the balcony.  In fact, "Malibu" premiered as Tony was about to crash and burn in his final attempt at a Broadway musical, playing Charlie Chaplin in a show he wrote as well, which opened, closed and was never heard from again, only miles up the coast from Malibu itself in Los Angeles.  "Have you been to paradise?  The people there are very nice" is the first lyric, followed by some scooped Malibuuu-uuu-uuuu refrains as aerial footage shows us all of the picturesque locale.  So, we have firmly established as the credits end that we are in the land of glitzy cheese.  Step lively folks, if you stand still too long, that cheese is like quicksand and you won't ever be able to escape!

Malibu's best real estate agent is...wait for it...hold...it's coming...Kim Novak!  In one the American miniseries' most unfortunate wigs, she's on the phone cooing to a client when in walks George Hamilton, writing "I'm a live one $" to get her off the phone.  He's a conman, in case you didn't get that from his flashy car, flashy suit, flashy smile.  He's in "investments."  "Think of me as your seeing eye dog," he inexplicably tells Kim as an explanation of how good he is at that nondescript job.  He claims to be in the market for a house, something along the lines of a million dollars, so Kim jumps out of her swivel chair and heads off with him.  She knows he's a phony, but she goes along with him anyway.

Let's meet some of the locals.  Or perhaps have them meet each other.  While everyone else is romping in the sand in bikinis, Ann Jillian is in a sweater and pants, stopping in front of James Coburn's house where they lock eyes.  Something about his cigar smoking has her cocking her head so far it's liable to snap, but she moves on.  Having some grub in a restaurant are Jenilee Harrison, doing her best dumb blonde act (I think it's an act) with distracted Richard Mulligan who, upon hearing that Jenilee feels both of eyes are of sound sight, remarks, "everything you have two of is perfect."  He's a writer in the movie business, but apparently not that successfully, and no wonder if that's his best material.  Playing tennis are Chad Everett and Valerie Perrine, the former in a tighter outfit than the latter.

Anthony Newley saunters into the restaurant, and Richard Mulligan pounces, trying to schmooze the powerful man who is so important he wears his jacket over his shoulders rather than with his arms in it, as if it's not 400 degrees in Malibu.

I'll hand it to George Hamilton, he plays the suave slime ball exceedingly well (okay, fine, it's the only role he ever played).  He offers $750,000 on the $3 million house Kim shows him, offering to rent it for $3K (she counters with $8500 and he agrees), telling her when asked again that his business is "making everybody, but you and me, a little bit poorer" and then chirping that if the bedroom ceiling "cannot hold a mirror, the deal is off."  He then gives her an admitted rubber check and for some reason she takes it.

Kim has some actual paying clients too, new-to-California Susan Dey and her husband William Atherton, from Wisconsin, looking for sun and sand for the summer while the kids are at camp.  The rental she shows Susan (before William arrives) is right on the beach, with the sound of the waves.  "Two months of that beats two months of therapy.  You ever been in therapy?" Kim asks, as if it's a perfectly natural question from a) a realtor and b) from someone you just met.  Kim schools Susan in the "ambiance" of Malibu and gives her a whole raised-eyebrow routine, though unfortunately, her eyebrows are hidden by her wig, descending lower and lower in each scene.  When William arrives, he doesn't want the dump she's showing. He wants "the colony," where all the movers are shakers reside.  She takes them to a swank place and continues in her line of wacky sales techniques by sitting in a rocking chair while the couple argues about it.  They can't really afford it, but William is set on it and convinces Susan they should go for.  "Darling, it's so long since we've had any fun...I'm not talking about pleasure or satisfaction, I'm talking about fun!  Doing crazy irresponsible things because we felt like it," he tells her and admits that though they are not wealthy, "faking it can be fun too."  Plus, Troy Donahue lives next door, which dazzles them.  "A movie star here is like a CPA in Osh Kosh," Kim blithely notes.  Plus, Troy Donahue lives next door (the real Troy Donahue, shown only from afar).



Being in "the colony" allows Susan and William access to the club, where Chad Everett turns out to be a tennis instructor Susan remembers from him professional career.  Susan gets invited to parties with bold-faced names.  Meanwhile, the longing looks between James and Ann could be the chance she needs to boost her career as a journalist.  If she can get him on her show, which no one else can do, she will go network!  But how to get him?  How?  How?

Kim hosts a dinner party for Valerie, Ann, Susan and William, which also includes the local flamboyant man in an ascot, Richard McKenzie (playing a character named Honeycutt in a role that really should have gone to Roddy McDowell).  Susan, with her perfect memory, knows not only Chad's career stats, but every word author Richard has ever written.  "The only reason I would ever have an affair with you is to find out if you ever keep your mouth shut," yells Valerie, having left the dinner table for the Jacuzzi next to it, sans clothing.  "He doesn't," Kim offers.  Wait, he's slept with them?  Two women?  Even worse than Susan's ability to be annoying by rote, she even offers to help Kim with the dishes.

During a walk on the beach, Valerie confesses a deep dark secret to William.  "I've never had an affair with an astronaut," she tells him.  So much for deep thinking.  "I want to be an astronaut," William flirts before they they head into the water, much to Susan's annoyance.  It's going to be one hell of a summer, kiddies!

Ann decides to stop by James and Eva Marie's house, where Eva Marie graciously welcomes her because she recognizes her from television.  Ann has a whole speech prepared about how her viewers care for "important issues."  Eva Marie still doesn't get it until Ann mentions Eva Marie's passion for environmental issues, when she knows for sure Ann wants James and not her.  Apparently Eva Marie and her gang have wanted on the show forever, and have been turned down, so the jig is up for Ann.  She'll have to find another way.

Steve Forrest has the least masculine beach run style in Malibu, stopping in front of Susan's place where she is thrilled that a movie star wants to come up for a cold drink.  Maybe she can get used to this!

Now it's time for Ann's new trick.  Knowing James has a lesson with Chad (who has shorts so tight it borders on porn), she has Chad paged and steps onto the court.  Since James has already taken a shine to her just from seeing her once, he's more than happy to pay with her, despite the Greek goddess outfit and headband.  James knows who she is and knows that Ann had been given the boot by Eva Marie.  "I still don't give interviews," he says as they volley and trade bad puns.  She takes a girlish slip on the court, requiring careful walking and lunch with James.  It's an exceedingly painful scene, one that runs on way too long as they continue with the puns, they just aren't sexual this time (well, not all of them).  Dazzled by her sexiness and vamping, he almost cracks.  However, he's smarter than she is and knows all along there's been a tape recorder running.  After destroying the tape, he asks to have lunch with her again.

If you thought Ann's scenes with James were painful, get a load of the interview she actually does with fey Richard for her show.  He speaks like Truman Capote, though not at all witty or particularly observant, just seemingly putting words together to force quips.  After he describes his "ideal woman," she tears into him, asking, no demanding, that he come out of the closet.  He sputters and storms to the camera, trying to block it.  That ought to help her career, but dinner parties will be awkward this summer!

Battling a dog and his own velvet jumpsuit, Richard tries again with Anthony at the latter's house.  Then he has to battle with a British butler.  He can't fool the dry valet, but he does get the script inside the door at least.  This is the comedy plot and it's already tired.

Impressed with Ann's interview with Richard, James calls her for a beach walk, which is not pleasing to Eva Marie, overhearing the phone conversation.  He offers to take her to a hotel, which she doesn't mind at all, saying that "if we are going to have a relationship, it has to be honest."  She was smart for two scenes and now she's back to dumb again, though that's okay because he's struck dumb by Cupid's arrow.

Steve, wearing the same revealing shorts as Chad, but in a different color, takes Susan for a walk on the beach, regarding her like a hungry wolf, and then invites her to his bedroom to watch his old movies.  He tries every trick to get her into the bed, but she won't even get onto it, sitting on a bench instead.  "We should be making love, not talking," he says when she brings up his wife.  "Maybe talking is more fun," she replies.  He gets her in a clinch and pulls her to the bed, but she pushes him off and dashes out. So, he goes back to watching one of his movies.  Hey, it's easier than calling a hooker or lifting weights.

Ann has a dilemma.  Her producer and crackpot team of investigators have, in just one day, managed to dig up all the dirt on James' law career, including a Mr. X, who will be interviewed, but only anonymously.  Everyone is excited, but Ann can't join in.  You see, let's say it all together, she's fallen for James.  Since yesterday.

Valerie Perrine has the corniest line of the movie when, watching James and Ann in a double match (which is so poorly faked and uses so much repeat footage that I hope the stand-ins were well paid), turns to her partner, George Hamilton and wonders if they can beat them.  "Piece of cake," he answers.  "I think you've been in the sun too long," she says.  They both do a double take to make sure the line is hammered home.  Yes, we get the George Hamilton in-joke.  We're smarter than the creators of "Malibu," so we chuckled, kind of, when it was said.  They then go to Ann's have sex and she shows him the footage they have shot for the show about him, even mentioning Mr. X.  Whose side is she on anyway?  "Any good lawyer would kick you out of bed," he says before kissing her again.  They banter, and it seems Ann is out of her league.  James has been at this a lot longer, but he figures he can trip her up an still bag the babe.

When Richard arrives home to find Jenilee not there, he panics and somehow figures out she's with her friends, a rock group playing insanely loud music with lots of 80s guitar riffs while the girls dance with their arms in that style that hopefully will never come back.  Since he can't be heard inside, we have to groan through a pantomime routine until she leaves, only to pout in the car as he yells at her.  "Don't speak to me...I am not a poodle!" she insists.  "Yes and no, poodles can be very lovable," he replies.  A horrible comic scene full of voices and jokes and everything terrible follows before we find out he's broke (as if we hadn't guess that yet by the cheap lunches and paint peeling off the house).  Jenilee has bought herself a riding outfit.  "You don't have to ride to have a riding outfit," she tells him.  What the hell are these two doing?  I can't believe I like the cuckoo drama more than the cuckoo comedy.

It's the night of Valerie's big party.  Everyone is there.  Eva Marie spends her time chasing James, threatening him that he's in for it if he flaunts his affair at the party.  Susan gets smashed to avoid having to mingle sober because she thinks William and Valerie are having an affair, Anthony promises stardom to young actresses, an ancient authoress takes up everyone's time.  Valerie and George are tennis partners, though Kim is suspicious of him.  Jenilee tries her best to keep up with everyone's conversations, but that's not likely, possibly spoiling every attempt Richard makes at networking.

To fill time, there are encounters such as this head scratcher: blonde 20something actress (and I use the term loosely because she can barely get out a line) Monique St. Pierre asks Susan, "if you had the choice between an iffy Broadway play and six months in 'The King and I,' which would you do?"  Huh?  I suppose that depends on the roles.  In "The King and I," what would she be?  There are three female roles and she's not Asian enough for two.  Susan comes down on the side of 'The King and I," naturally.    Susan overhears Valerie and the ancient authoress talking about Valerie's new boyfriend, so that's when she bumps into Chad Everett, inevitably Mr. Right Now.  He offers her lessons, "if you want me to" he says with matinee idol grandeur.

What always happens at these parties where the entire cast is assembled?  Violence!  Eva goes to tear James away from Ann, Richard does the same with Jenilee and then William slugs Steve Forrest, who has just entered the party dressed for a safari.  "Keep the juices flowing, the fun's just beginning," Valerie says before the entire cast does reaction shots to William that lead to freeze frames flattering to absolutely none of them.  It is truly the most bizarre ending of a first part I can remember.  But, it's no less witless than anything else that's been done, except I'm sure it was considered "creative" at the time.

The morning after...

Valerie descends the stairs slower than Norma Desmond because she's so hungover and Steve has apparently slept over.  He wants to sue William for decking him, because "it could delay production on my new series."  "You don't have a new series," Valerie reminds him.  "It's in the works."

Susan has no hangover and she drank the most.  She can even manage a tennis lesson with Chad, who tells her "no time spent with you is wasted" as she shows a stunning inability to pick up the fundamentals of the game.  When Chad and Susan leave (the former to follow Susan, which pisses off James, who can't have his lesson), there is one of those continuity errors that are so much fun to see.  Chad is wearing  a completely different color outfit than seconds previously.  In the romance department, Chad might be considered lacking as he remembers past match points that did not go his way instead of anything lovey dovey.  He is earnest, one can't deny that, giving the same performance he always does, and sticking to it.  When Susan admits that her attempt at college acting didn't work, and her professor had a particularly biting remark about her Blanche DuBois (that would be the fault of whoever cast the production--can anyone imagine Susan as Blanche?  Neither can I, and apparently she also played Lady Macbeth), Chad ever-so-seriously notes, "maybe my line judge became your assistant professor."  Susan doesn't even flinch at that howler of a line.  The scene drags on and on, with Chad's monotone getting even worse with his take that one can't worry about the future, "fatalistic ballyhoo," he calls it.  At times it seems he's flirting with her, but because his vocal and facial expressions never change, it's impossible to tell for sure.  Even Susan looks confused (and sleepy).

Blame it on the Midwest, I suppose, but after even 25 seconds of lunch with George Hamilton, William still doesn't realize he's about to be scammed out of oodles of money.

When a very furious Kim Novak shows up at George's place with his bounced check, he's telling a mover, "don't you know the difference between a real Matisse and a fake Matisse?  The fake is a lot harder to paint," and then gives her the jibber jabber as he attempts to lower her to the bed.  She's not buying.  He gives her another check, but she's not that stupid (the only person in the movie who can claim that) and wants cash.  He hands her the $8K check William had just given him.  She knows whatever he's sold William is phony, and he admits it too, though claiming it's a good lesson for the guy to learn.  George continues to fleece her, telling her of a grand plan to get James' money before they kiss over the kitchen counter.  A apologize, I was in error previously: Kim is a stupid as everyone else in the movie.

William has become so entranced by Malibu (as the title song predicted), that he starts to get a bit bug-eyed and fixated, telling Susan he wants to move there, despite all of her very real and practical reasons why they can't (the kids, the cost, etc.).  "You know what this place has done to us!" Susan barks.

Pause for a second.  We've been through half the movie with only a suggestion that either William or Susan has cheated, but nothing definitive.  They haven't had enough screen time to have changed THAT much.

Un-pause.  The yelling continues and Susan wants to know what the hell is happening to them as a couple (the rest of us really don't care, so stop shouting).  "Let's pack up and leave today!" she begs.  "I want to stay," Bug Eyes retorts.  "Our marriage won't survive it!" she insists.  This is a lovely course in the basics of banal dialogue, but it ends on a laugh-riot exit line for William: "If it's so flimsy it can't stand up to perfect weather, then perhaps it shouldn't survive!"  I think perfect weather is either the #4 or #5 biggest causes of divorce, right?  I'll have to consult an almanac to be sure.

Already-has-an-Oscar Eva Marie and will-eventually-have-an-Oscar James Coburn (both of which should be taken away for "Malibu" alone) have a nasty battle over breakfast where Eva Marie demands he give up Ann, spitting words like "cheap" and "tawdry" and threatening to kill Ann (with what, your expensive handbag?), James says "no you won't.  You're against all forms of violence, they'll remove you from all of your precious committees."  As she's arguing with shrill diction, George interrupts the argument with some of his con artist shtick, which both seem to actually go for.

Not realizing there is a price on her head via mobster granny Eva Marie, Ann watches what turns out to be a disastrous interview with Mr. X, who, as James predicted, would not reveal any details.  Wouldn't it have been smarter to actually show the interview happening and Ann reacting to it live?  Doing it this way, Ann is forced to sit and watch it like she's seeing it for the first time.  She's not, considering she was there!  "I don't like being made a fool of!" Ann growls at her producer.  "Hey, we lost," he says.  "I don't want to lose, not to someone who fights dirty!" she snaps  Wait, isn't that how she's been playing all along?  She also realizes she may have told James a little too much.  You think?  You know, if I were a crusading journalist who wanted to jump to the network and was just quashed by a powerful man, I know to whom I would go to rectify that.  Of course, his angrier-than-Medea wife!  Well, there is the problem of Ann being the cause of Eva Marie's anger, but perhaps they can sort that out.  Let's see what happens.  It seems obvious enough to you or me, but this is "Malibu" after all, a colony full of rampaging morons.

Her producer, walking out, says, "maybe the Pope will visit Disneyland and you can get an exclusive."  Ah, yes, kick her with sarcasm when she's down.  Ann is then forced to deliver an Emmy-baiting bit (onto which no one could possibly chomp), with tears welling as she says, "I don't like losing, I never did.  And I never will!"

While jogging on the beach, William sees Valerie (a mere Oscar nominee) at her French windows, which she leaves open.  He takes that as a cue and goes inside looking for her.  He doesn't just look for her, he scours the place, going through every room on the first level, with the camera in tow to make a viewer almost car sick from the journey.  She's naked in yet another Jacuzzi upstairs.  They flirt for a while, where she asks him point blank if he wants to have sex, but they also catch us up on some plot points that we didn't miss because we're watching the damn thing.  With bubbles gliding around her, she informs him that George's financial deals are fake and that he only used her name to get William to throw in his money.  "I think young executive just lost his shirt," she says.  "I think young executive is going to attack lady in hot tub," he replies, pulling off his shoes.  Did they both have strokes, leaving them unable to speak in complete sentences?

Alas, Susan is not in San Francisco, as she told William she would be.  No, she's in a cheap motel in post-coital confusion with Chad.  "I guess not too many people come to motels to look at the paintings," Chad says, in the same voice as always, after Susan dumps on the art work.  Again, I think he's actually saying it seriously, but we'll never know for sure.  Rain Man Susan has another one of those perfect recall moments when she tells Chad that "according to statistics, 35% of people who stay in motels are having affairs."  "Shouldn't that be an even number?" he asks, as if he knows an even versus an odd number.  Chad believes they are now officially together and proposes marriage, still serious and wooden.

Oh, and Chad also needs money to start up a sportswear company, but he's short of the money needed.  One might expect him to sweet talk it from his new lady love, but she's broke.  He plans to go after James, just like everybody else.

Remember Jenilee and Richard?  I know, you were hoping they had disappeared completely.  Jenilee drags him to meet her young friends, who say they love the script and want to shoot it, though with many changes.  Since they have the cash to finance it, he has to go with their changes.  The main change is to make the 57-year old bank president into a 20something elevator operation at the Empire State Building who even has a way to work a band into the story.  Richard's confusion upon leaving is completely understandable as that was one crackpot scene.  An elevator operator?  In 1983?  Will the sequel concern a Fotomat employee in 2006, an equally extinct job?

"What exactly is your price...women like you charge, don't they?" Eva Marie asks Ann, accosting her in a parking lot.  And then BINGO, my prediction comes true (because clever plotting is completely absent from "Malibu").  Eva Marie offers Ann all the dirt she has on her husband if Ann will leave James.  Will Ann choose love or ambition?

George convinced James to wager on their mixed doubles tennis final, knowing full well he could never win, and also knowing that club rules allow for a replacement (he fakes an injury), and that replacement can be anyone, including former pro champ Chad Everett!  Chad feels it's "inappropriate," but George and Kim, who is in for a share, convince him.

Even the filthy rich shop for groceries.  That's where Jenilee finds Anthony (now a sweater over his shoulders), bumping into him on purpose, so klutzy that, as Richard says, she would knock down the "Leaning Tower of Pizza."  Wow, there's a fresh joke.  Her flirting, whether real or not, of course works.

It should be a problem for James to now give money to Chad for his new business, right?  They will be on opposite sides of the court.  James has a plan, of course, but Chad doesn't realize it, as one would suspect of this lobotomized patient.  James dances around it for a while and agrees to give him the money, though it takes extra long for Chad to realize he's supposed to throw the match for the money.

Anthony had no idea that the man Jenilee was raving about was dorky Richard, who flies over to Anthony's house.  Anthony agrees to direct the picture, but he wants changes and here's the twist: Anthony wants to make the script YOUNGER and use the band that Richard has already seen.  Isn't that cute?  Someone kill this plot soon...please!

Boring though he may be, there is something moral in Chad.  He goes home to tell his wife not to come watch the match.  She assumes he's having an affair, but "don't tell me, not in this robe and not with my hair up like this," as if the news will have a better impact with a change of hairdo.  No, no, nothing like that, he merely tells her he's going to throw the match.  THEN he lowers the boom about his new love, saying he wants "a new kind of life, and with that money this afternoon, I can make it happen."  "Is she worth it?"  "I'd tank in the finals at Wimbledon if she were second prize," he says of Susan, whom he's known for a few days.  When he tells his wife Susan will be there, she decides she'll be at the match as well.

Tennis, anyone?  When we join the match, James and Ann are up and Chad is playing so badly that when he misses a shot, William clucks, "I could have hit that one!"  Once again, check out the close-ups, as they are obviously shot indoors, obvious both in look and sound.  Kim is mighty worried, with money at stake.  Valerie isn't happy either, especially when Chad double faults on a set point.  "I have a lot of money riding on this game...I bet my shrink $50 we would win this thing!" she tells him.  I think that's supposed to be funny, so laugh.  Or not.  Get a load of the extras too, as they have to spin their heads this way and that pretending to watch tennis.  Fed up spectating at such a horror, Chad's wife leaves, and when he sees her open seat, he's confused.  Or so the music tells us, Chad isn't that good an actor.  He knows what he has to do...which is play his best and win!  He's morality has returned.

And so has his game.  He roars back, winning every point in a flashy quick-moving sequence where the teams go into the third set tied.  James is hopping mad and Ann gets pissy too.  At home, Eva Marie smashes a mirror (she's exempt from seven years of bad luck for having slogged through "Malibu" with a kernel of dignity).

Chad serves for match point.  It's an ace.  Game, set, match.

"Let's go, it's all over," William says to Susan as everyone is filing out.  If only he knew.  "You lost, you really lost!" James tells Chad menacingly.  George and Kim are happy.  At least someone is.

Susan goes to Bridget Hanley, Chad's wife with all of the hair problems.  She knows before Susan can tell her that he won the match.  "I saw where he was looking every time they changed court," Bridget notes to Susan, but Susan reminds her that by winning, he gave up his dreams of a new life.  "He tried to throw that match and he couldn't...I think it was because he didn't want to lose you," says the world's worst mistress, Susan Dey.  There is an attempt at a plot twist here, when Bridget tells her that Chad does this "every summer," finally an explanation for her worry-free attitude.  Next summer, "I hope the woman is as nice as you," Bridget adds.  Awww, what an understanding wife!  I guess when your hubby's other woman is a milquetoast lump like Susan's character, you don't get too upset.

As if losing the tennis match isn't bad enough, Ann tells James she is going forward with her dirt-digging piece.  "Atta girl," James says, impressed, but maybe a trifle displeased.  Cue the telephone, a call for James from Eva Marie, who has just taken enough pills to off the whole cast of "War and Remembrance."  Luckily, he only lives two doors away, and gets there before she dies.  The doctor very seriously warns him that she will try again, but ends with a joke!  Yes, on his way out, after James thanks him for saving Eva Marie's life, he quips, "wait till you see my bill."  Is that REALLY necessary?

What will happen to Ann's story now?  Her Deep Throat is not going to blab if James returns to her, if he does.  When she wakes up, he berates her for having "no respect for human life" when she cares about every other species.  Will they stay together or will she "go East for good"as they both decide is mutually advantageous?

Also leaving the nest is Jenilee.  This comes out of the blue, for us and for Richard.  What about her stuff?  "Maybe you could have a yard sale."  "I don't have a yard!" he roars.  Oh, and Jenilee is leaving him for Anthony.  It would be great if this meant her dumb blonde act was just that, an act, but no, she has fallen for Anthony's smooth talking just like she did with Richard.

Also also leaving is George.  Well, actually, to be honest, he's already gone.  Kim goes to his home to find it empty.  "I guess there's deadbeats everywhere, even Malibu," a moving man sagely opines.  Kim sucks in her cheeks tighter (the only trick she's displayed acting-wise since the 50s).

Also also also leaving is Susan, leaving three days before the lease is up, much to William's annoyance.  He doesn't want to go back to his dull life.  "I want my future here," he insists.  What follows is the conversation all couples in a miniseries who are at-heart-good-people-who-make-bad-decisions have to have.  She knows they can't be happy here, he doesn't think they can be happy there, but they have to go back to find a way forward.  "I want to be wanted, not as a convenience or a crutch or an excuse.  I want to be more important than money, success or the perfect climate.  I want to be the most most important human being in the world to just one other person.  Is that asking too much?"  No, probably not, but you could have said it better, as that was awfully voluble for such ho-hum sentiment.

William goes out on the porch, waves hello to neighbor Troy Donahue and of course decides to go home with Susan.  He's a bit more mixed-up than she is, warning her that when it's snowy and the kids are sick, she better not complain, because he's doing what she wanted, then stuffing in "because I want you."  That's the dialogue equivalent of smacking someone and then handing her an ice pack.  "There's one thing more I want...to be kissed," Susan cries, giving them a perfect clinch to end their plot.

That just leaves Ann, who decides to go ahead and dig the dirt on James.  He's not worried.  As he tells his lawyer, people will talk and then "there will be a national disaster of some sort, a war in the Middle East, the garbage collectors will go on strike.  It will all be forgotten," he says philosophically, naming three huge events that don't make for a very good punch line.  He doesn't want his lawyer to put a stop to anything.  "To be successful is her only desire.  Let's see if she can handle it," he says with a grin.  Is he impressed with her moxie or awaiting her downfall?

Kim has new couples who want rentals while Susan and William pack up the car, to the consternation of Troy Donahue, finally shown up close, who will miss the neighbors he never really knew.  Kim tells a potential couple, "last summer was positively sensational." I guess she saw a different movie.

What is, I assume, supposed to be "Grand Hotel" by the beach, "Malibu"is one of those everyone-in-the-pool affairs that thankfully did not do permanent damage to the miniseries.  "Malibu" is just too plain brainless to do harm to anything except itself.  Why did all of these people take roles in it?  Beats me, it couldn't have been the script they were shown.  On top of that, a story celebrating the rich looks awfully cheap and hobbled together physically.  The plots are uneven, which isn't abnormal in a piece like this, but usually they are skewed toward the more interesting characters.  Unfortunately, there are no interesting characters here, just cardboard figures played as such.  One could compare it to the very exemplar of miniseries trash, "Hollywood Wives," which knows enough to laugh at itself as it soars wildly over the top.  "Malibu" has no such self-awareness.  The oft-quoted essence of "Grand Hotel" is "people come, people go, nothing ever happens."  What Vicki Baum and those who have successfully reworked it are saying is that no matter who you are or what your problems are in life, big or small, you are just one person among zillions.  "Malibu" seems to have understood only the final part of the claim: nothing ever happens.

 

Rich Man, Poor Man (1976) Chapter 12--THE END (and insights)

We are at the end.  We've made it through the first acknowledged Great American Miniseries.  As we enter the final lap, some lives are fraying (Peter Strauss' and Susan Blakely's) and some are flying (Nick Nolte's).  The problem child has wised up and become a dependable man with a son and a fiancee.  The once-dependable man is hassled and henpecked.  How will it end?

At the very end of Chapter 11, Nick's seemingly blissful existence was about to gain cloud cover as sworn enemy William Smith had found him.  He had beaten up William Smith a few years earlier, so badly that William lost an eye.  As Chapter 12 starts, Herbert Jefferson brings Nick the news that William is nearby.  For now, Nick is so happy with his son back and in love with Kay, who finally accepts his proposal of marriage because she's pregnant.  

Fortunes are up for Nick, but down for Peter Strauss, his political career on the rise, but very unpopular with the youth who are angry at his position on ROTC.  In fact, he orders an editorial written "drawing parallels between the New Left and Hitler."  That's how out-of-touch he's become.  Worse yet, Susan has become a full-time lush, so bad even the maid can't deal with her.  She and Peter have a massive fight where both admit it is time to think about their failing marriage.  

The students decide to picket Peter's house, throw rocks and get Susan to open the door, naked and drunk.  Peter blames the mayor, the police and everyone else but himself, and only because of the affects it may have on his political career.  This is where he finally snaps.  All the years of creating his perfect life have been derailed and he becomes...his brother.

He goes to the school paper and tears the place up, punching a guy, knocking down a shelf accidentally on a girl, who is blinded by the chemicals falling on her, all of it caught by salivating photographers.  Their lives have finally reversed, to some degree.  

Susan goes to the hospital to dry out, worried that she has ended her husband's career, but he now takes full credit.  The guilt is eating at him, especially when the blinded girl acts very heroic about her state.  Peter and Susan want another chance, if she can give up alcohol and he can give up politics.  

Peter and Susan travel to France for Nick and Kay's wedding.  It's a joyous wedding and other than a sip of wine for a toast, Susan doesn't drink.  Nick is thrilled to have Peter there.  His present to his brother is a radar that Nick has always wanted for his boat.  "This is the greatest damn wedding anybody ever had," Nick claims in drunken delight, before passing out.  "I'm afraid the wedding night might have to be postponed," Kay admits in good cheer.  

In case the true reversal of fortune for the leads has not become obvious, it's Susan who points it out, telling Peter she can't believe how well Nick has turned out.  "He's changed so much," she ruefully says.  "Haven't we all?" Peter adds.  "But he's changed for the better."  

Unable to sleep, Susan leaves Peter in bed and goes to a bar.  Who joins her there?  William Smith, of course.  A local rushes to Nick to tell him he's spotted Susan in a seedy strip club with William Smith.  Nick tracks her down and finds William trying to rape Susan.  When Nick bursts in, William holds a knife to Susan before the inevitable William-Nick fight.  Susan is beaten up a little, Nick must worse, but when Nick has the chance to kill William, the latter begs for his life and Nick leaves him with it.  As he tells Kay proudly, "I could have killed a man, but I didn't."

Naturally, Peter is angry at Susan, both full of excuses, and the subject of divorce comes up again, tabled again.  

William exacts his revenge, looking from yards away as his goons stab Nick.  When Kay finds him, he's barely alive.  That means a hospital scene!  Naturally, it's between the brothers, Nick barely able to speak, but wanting his brother there at the very end.  "You go get 'em...you go get the bad guys," Nick says.  "I don't know who they are anymore.  I think I'm one of them," Peter cries.  "No...you're not," Nick assures him and then dies.  This scene is brief and handled beautifully, where it could have easily been drawn-out and maudlin.

Nick's ashes are thrown into the ocean by his son and wife, with his brother, sister-in-law and loyal Herbert in attendance.  "He died on the happiest day of his life," Kay assures Herbert.  Peter and Susan are able to join hands with some amount of hope as the miniseries finally ends.

And there you have it, all of "Rich Man, Poor Man."  It still sparkles with true genius.  The early episodes looked like they might have to rely heavily on vets like Ed Asner and Dorothy McGuire, who were utterly fantastic, but the three leads definitely stepped up and controlled the 12 parts like pros.  Actually, it would stand to be some of their best work ever.  Sure, Nick Nolte rose to superstardom, but it was erratic and often fueled more by controversy than talent.  Peter Strauss and Susan Blakely stayed with television.  Peter would not only return for more of "Rich Man, Poor Man" in an ill-advised sequel, but would pretty much play the same good-guy character to this day (and in a few big miniseries).  Susan Blakely

What's new is not the story, but the telling.  The 1970 Shaw novel could have very easily been condensed into a major motion picture, probably cutting most of the characters and all of the charm, leaving us with cardboard characters and fey storytelling.  Instead, a bunch of brave people decided to try something different: taking a lot of what British television had been doing for ages (and, in truth American television had tentatively done previously), filming the whole story, or most of it, in epic style. We're not chopping Shaw down to two hours, or even three.  It received 12 episodes and was broadcast over enough time to keep viewers interested.  This is something new.  It's not the standard 20some episodes of a cop or hospital show, where viewers didn't have to watch every week to know what was happening, but it was given the opulent treatment of a successful television drama.  It's also not daytime soap opera, which had done all of these plots before, stretching them out over years at a time.  It's a mix. Thus the term miniseries.  Everything is wrapped up in a tight package, but the package is bigger than ever mounted before.  

If a fairly hokey and predictable novel like "Rich Man, Poor Man" could be done in this style, what about something bigger?  What if we don't just travel through 20 odd years with a few people and a bunch of costume changes?  What if we go even bigger?  After all, that's what Hollywood is known for. In the immediate future, there was the bravery of adapting Alex Haley's "Roots," a long but very stark look at the very heart of American society, and further down the road such enormous sagas as "Holocaust," a European-based equivalent of "Roots" and every bit as brave, "North and South" or "Winds of War."  But, "Rich Man, Poor Man," while sending producers scrambling for well-reviewed long novels, also realized that it wasn't necessarily the saga of the thing, but the soap in it too, which led to "The Thorn Birds" or "East of Eden."  Hell, some of them weren't even that intelligent and spread before us "Harem" and "Kane and Abel," pure trash dolled up to look like the millions of bucks they cost.  

But they were all successful, to varying degrees, and this push toward big television kept on going for 20 years.  It ended with cable television and the Internet pulling away focus, but that's a story for 1995 or so, not 1976.  In 1976, "Rich Man, Poor Man" was staggeringly new, full of vivacity and emotion, setting rules for an entire genre no one knew would necessarily follow.  After all, this could have been an enormous dud.  If viewers were not gripped from the onset, there was no chance of keeping them hooked (a lesson learned years later when the miniseries reached its most outlandish size with "War and Remembrance").  But, "Rich Man, Poor Man" hooks.  It has real characters, small-town people with real problems.  Sure, they get a little lofty at the end, but their problems are always real: fear, jealousy, happiness, love, loss.  That's the secret to all the Great American Miniseries: dress them up in whatever finery you want, cast the hell out of the piece, give it all the trappings, but make it somehow relatable to people turning on their television sets.  They aren't paying money to go to a theater and see this, so they aren't trapped.  The only way to keep them is to grab hold from the beginning and never let go.  From the moment Rudy Jordache plays his bugle to herald the end of a devastating world war and the moment Tom Jordache sneers at it, from Axel Jordache miserable in a basement bakery to Mary Jordache ignoring the badness to focus on her shining star son, or even the simplicity of Susan Blakely as a candy striper reading "Gone With the Wind" to wounded soldiers, these are people the folks at home can understand.  Understand them, understand their problems, and stick to that.  The problems may get loftier (in minute ways like state politics here or in massive horrors like slavery or concentration camps in later pieces), but the way the characters deal with them will not.  Watch Meryl Streep in "Holocaust" and though the world is exploding around her, she only wants her husband back.

And that, as I see it, is the secret to the Great American Miniseries, letting the viewers in for a limited time to emotions they can comprehend.  Television usually keeps us outside of the box, laughing at outrageous Lucy ruining Desi's show, or Dorothy and Sophia snapping at each other, or by having Dr. Kildare solve yet another medical mystery we would never have been able to understand, ditto for Jessica Fletcher, asking us to stop our lives and give them over to other people for 30 or 60 minutes.  Not so with the miniseries.  Sure, you can send us to Medieval Japan in "Shogun," but what are we asked to believe there?  That the hero wants to understand what he's never seen and then falls madly in love?  Not so far-fetched (emotionally).  What was the secret behind "A Woman Named Jackie?"  That one of the 20th Century's most discussed women loved and hated and regretted and feared.  Sounds real enough to me, no matter the costumes or the sources of those emotions.  

Unfortunately, not every miniseries will be this intelligent, but they don't have to be because not everybody wants to think with the television on, though they can still come inside.  What emotions are we expected to have for Ted Bundy in "A Deliberate Stranger?"  None, it's just there for shock value, as would be many true-crime sagas, but we breathlessly follow Mark Harmon's every move.  What are we to make of "Fresno" other than feeling the hangover that comes with biting the hand that feeds you (and badly)?  Nothing, it's just there because someone thought it would be clever.  Or traditional epics that had been filmed before like beloved "Ivanhoe" or "The Scarlet Pimpernel?"  Nothing, just bask in the glow of their incredible storytelling for which you don't have to leave your home and pay money for seats and popcorn to get drawn in.  Granted, Ted Bundy and the French Revolution are delicious hooks for a television audience and they deserve more than just an hour condensation, but there is also the value of pure entertainment to be considered.  After 12 episodes of Susan Blakely's moping in "Rich Man, Poor Man," one has had enough.  One can still relate, but one can also want it to end.  The great thing is that it does, because the miniseries always end.  They do not continue season after season.  With that, we're back to the brilliance of creating such a genre.  

Rich Man, Poor Man (1976) Chapter 11

Folks, we have hit the penultimate episode of "Rich Man, Poor Man."  There are only about 90 minutes left to wrap up the story.  In Chapter 10, brothers Peter Strauss and Nick Nolte were reunited after many years to face the death of Mama Dorothy McGuire.  Peter won his election to the state senate, which caused Susan to crawl further into the bottle and become a danger to his career.  Meanwhile, Nick got the money to start his yacht charter business in Marseilles with pal William Jefferson, though ever aware that the mob is on his tail for an offense committed many years ago.  However, a more recent fight may cause his security to unravel.

We pick up the story three years after we last left it, in 1965.  Susan, sober at breakfast, is still a bit touchy, especially when Peter's career intrudes on their time together.  She has had no letter from her son, but she actually delights in a letter from Nick, who reveals in minute detail what has been going on with his yacht charter business.  "Yeah, but is he making any money?" Peter asks, now as icy and cold as perhaps his old mentor Robert Reed.  Nick and Susan came face to face with each other and settled their past in Chapter 10.

All is not actually well in this house.  Knowing Nick needs rich people to charter his boat, which he has named after his long-ago love Fionnula Flanagan, Susan suggests Peter tell Van and his wife Dorothy Malone they should hire him.  Yes, she admits she wants him gone for a while because "he scares me," although she can't explain why.  Peter says he might have to bring his political backer home for lunch, which Susan takes as a warning not to get "looped before lunch."

Peter has to dart off to his old college, where he's donated some equipment to the school paper he once helped to run.  The current editor, a youth of another generation, challenges him.  He wants to know if Peter will run for national election in 1966, and Van Johnson asks if he would vote for him.  Seemingly not, as Peter represents the old guard, though Peter reminds him of his voting record and that they actually may be on the same page.  Peter takes the ribbing, which Van Johnson sees as a sign that Peter may have "the right touch" with the youth.  The conversation then turns to Susan, whom Van hints is becoming a political liability.  Peter suggests Van and Dorothy use Nick's boat.

And they do.  The two arrive looking like the lead characters in "La Cage Aux Folles" (okay that's a cheap shot since Van Johnson still had the role of Georges in that show looming on his fading horizon), both sporting fake hair and lots of make-up.  The only problem is that their cook has never materialized and the Van Johnsons were promised a good cook.  The one they hired has landed himself in jail, but they find one in volunteering Kay Lenz, a perky blonde with legs for days (and a black eye from the cook who landed himself in jail by giving it to her).  The snappy banter between Kay and Nick is proof that sparks will fly.  That's been obvious since the movies started using sound, but it's a BIG ongoing way of introducing lovers in miniseries.  She gets the job and the yacht "shoves off."

Kay has a hit with her first dish, fish chowder, which Van and Dorothy adore.  "You better hang onto her, we may be taking her home with us," Van tells Nick, much to Dorothy's dismay.  She's noticed her husband looking at Kay.  She needn't worry, as Van Johnson plays this role gayer than any other role he played on film, and that's pretty damn gay, but then again, Dorothy Malone is intent on stealing whatever moment she can, even if it's campy and in a caftan.

Nick has of course fallen for Kay already, and acts like a goofy teenager around her, the second step to love after snappy banter in the handbook.

Two weeks go by, with Van and Dorothy having had a wonderful time, but Nick confides in Kay, now wearing nothing but skimpy bikinis, that they have no charters lined up and they desperately need money.  He also tells her about his son and how his wife took him.  "She was an alley cat...and so was I, no better," he notes, an awfully mature statement from our growing-and-learning bad boy.  As for his son, it's rather unbelievable that nitwit Talia Shire has managed to keep him hidden all these years, especially now that bigwig Peter Strauss has people looking for him.  But, that's Irwin Shaw's issue; we just have to deal with it.

Just when you thought there was no camp in "Rich Man, Poor Man," and I admit that we've made it through nearly 11 episodes with it relegated safely to Bill Bixby, who was dispatched ages ago, old hams Van Johnson and Dorothy Malone spew it all over the place.  You see, Dorothy wants to get into port and Van orders Nick to do it.  However, there are rocks in their path, so they have to take the long way, which will mean another night on board.  Dorothy, stripping down to a very unflattering bathing suit (from a very unflattering caftan), threatens to swim back if the boat isn't turned the right way and Van, as drunk as she is, orders Nick to do so.  Nick refuses and as Dorothy is wailing, Van Johnson punches Nick Nolte.  Yes, Van Johnson, who spent much of his career cuddling up to the likes of Judy Garland, punches one of film's all-time badasses, Nick Nolte

Actually, Van departs, sober, apologizing for his behavior and giving Nick a lot more than promised, also telling him he'll refer his rich friends.  Dorothy even tells Kay "you're a good cook."  They want to book the entire month of June next year.  See, sober movie stars can be humble.  With violins going full tilt, Nick asks Kay to stay on permanently, wrapping her in his arms.  After having had sex, Kay wants to know where the name of the boat came from, but he replies, "someone I knew I was a boy," which is the truth.  His language is awfully flowery as he confesses his love to Kay.

Meanwhile, back in the USA, Peter has tracked down Nick's old manager Norman Fell, living in squalor, on his quest to locate Nick's son.  It turns out that the mafia no longer cares about the vendetta and Nick is not only safe to return, but "he can lead the Columbus Day Parade down Fifth Avenue," in Norman's colorful language.  Norman knows the name by which Talia Shire goes, but not where she lives.  Peter calls Nick in France to tell him he's found his son and to get home immediately!

That's good news for Nick's son, but Susan's son is in trouble.  He's being kicked out of school, which means he could be sent to Vietnam.  Peter promises as soon as he reunites Nick and his son, they can fly to California and deal with her son.

So, what happened to Talia and the kid?  Well, Talia divorced Nick on grounds of desertion (which she actually did to him), sent the kid to a military school and has become a hooker.  "She's a professional.  When I had her, she wasn't even a gifted amateur," Nick quips in a rare display of actual humor.  Susan interrupts Peter's telling of the tale to Nick with a drunken harangue about her son again.  Nick and Peter actually notice that perhaps their lives have turned.  Nick is convinced that life would be the same if he had stayed: Peter would be successful and he would be the reject.  But, Nick's boat is a success, he's happy and in love, while Peter has a stressful career and a wife he always wanted, neither of which bring him any happiness.  Nick says aloud that he never knew "life could be so good."  Oh, Nick, if only you knew!  That is a miniseries kiss of death!  But, you couldn't know that since you are helping to invent these questionable rules.

Nick goes to find his son Michael Morgan at the military school, but tight-ass colonel in charge has a file on the kid that says his father is dead.  Nick flings his passport at him and then they exchange some witty banter about the kid's mother.  Nick is informed that Michael has been "a problem" for fighting, but the colonel refuses to let the boy go until both parents agree to take him out.  Nick shows him the file on Talia and they can't wait to get rid of him fast enough.

It's here, with only moments to go in the second to last episode of the piece, that we know for sure Nick's character has become a man.  He gets a child.  Sure, he sired the kid, but he was never a father.  Only oceans of time and space have made him ready for the task.  It's worth nothing that Peter, who has always been the stable one, doesn't have a child.  His was miscarried and the only one he has access to is his wife's by a former marriage and he's living 3000 miles away.  Once again, the question is asked, who is the rich man and who is the poor man?  We're not talking about money anymore, we're talking about quality of life.

But perhaps we always have been.

But you knew that.  We've been through enough together to be on the same page, my friends.

From there, it's off to California to meet Susan's son, future soap hunk Leigh McCloskey.  He couldn't be less excited to see them.  He's an ass from the start.  Talking to Susan, in yet another turban, he confesses that his girlfriend's family doesn't like him, because they think he smokes pot.  "Well, do you?" Susan asks.  "No, Mother, I prefer booze, like you," he sasses.  Peter has to play the heavy, referred to as "the plastic hippie" by his stepson.  Apparently, Leigh has always thought Peter had his real father killed, and he blames his mother for both abandoning and spoiling him.  In fact, he wants nothing to do with either of them and asks to be cut from their lives, for the most part (one assumes he'll still take their money).  "Goodbye Mother, I'll write to you," he says insincerely, crushing fragile Susan even further.

Six months later, Michael has become his father's right arm on the yacht, blending into the family Nick has created along with Herbert and Kay seamlessly.  However, one afternoon, Nick and company leave the boy in charge of the boat.  His head is turned by two French cuties he invites aboard.  Meanwhile, Nick proposes to Kay in a very cute way, but Kay uses Michael as an excuse.  She feels the timing isn't right, but tells Nick to ask her again after the boy has had time to get used to things.

Herbert arrives with the news that Michael, trying to impress the girls, took the boat out and banged it up.  Nick goes out furiously looking for him, roaming the streets all night.  How will Nick handle it?  Like his father would have, with a beating (that we see in a flashback)?  Nope, not this Nick.  He hugs his son and chirps, "tomorrow I'm going to show you how to fix a propeller."

Aww, that's sweet, and it would be a perfectly happy ending to the day if it weren't observed by returning William Smith, sporting a patch over one eye and a lot of hatred in the other.

Rich Man, Poor Man (1976) Chapter 10

Once teenage dreamers, the three leads of "Rich Man, Poor Man" are about as adult as possible when Chapter 10 starts.  Peter Strauss is running for public office, supported in words, but not spirit, by his wife Susan Blakely, who has just miscarried, and Nick Nolte wants to leave the merchant marines to start a yacht charter business on the French Riviera.  For once, it's Nick who seems the happiest of the lead characters, though that can always change quickly as the plot starts to come to its climax.

It's 1962, Marseilles.  Nick and his buddy Herbert Jefferson are still technically tied to the merchant marines and thus the merciless and very childish hazing of muscular moron William Smith.  After enjoying two days away, they come back to two day's worth of dirty dishes, cleaned up just in time for William Smith to dirty the whole kitchen again.  He's s different kind of villain than any other in the movie.  The first was Ed Asner, an immigrant with crushed dreams that proved too heavy to bear, but not a bad man at heart.  Then there was Robert Reed, who deflowered the leading lady and has been playing puppeteer with the lives of the leads for decades, though not without their knowledge of agreement, a manipulative man who likes to enjoy power, but also does good with it.  William Smith is just a cartoon bully.  He looks like a cartoon villain and is written like one, so ridiculously evil that he's not even worth enjoying as a character because you know he'll get his miniseries comeuppance in a big way (though, not to ruin anything, it only partially happens here--we have to wait for "Rich Man, Poor Man Book II" to get the true end of his inane plotting).  He's the prototype for a lot of miniseries villains to come, the main one being Adolph Hitler.  Even in the miniseries that are told from Hitler's point of view, or try to imbibe the story with some semblance of German sympathy, Hitler is always the raving lunatic who will meet the bad end, so let him overact the hell out of his scenes because our leads will always end up just fine (well, except in "The Bunker," where he is the lead).

In a truly grotesque piece of business that is handled with "Rich Man, Poor Man's" usual flair for knowing exactly what to show and what not to show, William Smith follows his favorite target, Herbert Jefferson, into his cabin where he more than suggests they are going to have sex.  Herbert Jefferson tries to fight him off, but William Smith puts him in a choke hold and the camera pans down to his foot closing the door.  William Smith emerges smiling and sated when Nick Nolte sees him.  Nick goes to his friend, but we only HEAR him say, "it's alright, I'm okay" and then Nick is in the dining room where we know he's going to exact some sort of revenge.

He throws his drink in William Smith's face and they agree to a rumble.  Nick was warned not to fight, lest someone recognize him from his past life as a boxer and remember the crime from which he's running.  The two tussle with the rest of the crew watching and Nick actually knocks him out.  "I've seen that guy fight as Sunnyside Gardens," one of the crew members says, right before William pulls a knife and jams it into Nick's leg in a surprise attack.  Nick beats him to a bloody pulp.  No use being upset as they take William Smith off in a stretcher, looking like he's lost an eye.  The character deserved it he was merely a plot device to bring Nick back to reality.  The captain doesn't turn him into the French authorities, but he does tell him to leave ship in NYC, where the man who recognized him knows he can cash in on what he knows.

Back in New York, Peter has become a popular politician fighting against the corruption of the old guard, running for a state senate seat, but losing steam.  Wife Susan Blakely is a shellacked politician's wife with a hairdo and wardrobe that bore even her.  His campaign manager, Van Johnson, has brought his wife along, played by the 1950s most questionable Oscar winner, Dorothy Malone.  She's an old hand at surviving politics.  She has a dose of realism and a big drink for Susan (which has already started to become a problem for the latter).  Dorothy and Susan watch as Peter, Van and the others start to play politics every bit as hard as what he's supposedly fighting.

While Dorothy and Susan are enjoying their drinks, a call comes in that Peter's mother, Dorothy McGuire, is very ill.  "Damn it," he curses, having to leave politics for his mother, who used to be the darling of his life but has turned into a petty annoyance (in truth, the character has been turned from a wonderfully-developed and understanding woman into a rather idiotic shrew, so it's hard to work up a whole lot of sympathy).

As Nick's boat steams into the New York harbor, one cannot help but notice a IMMENSE error.  The camera pans around the buildings and comes to rest on the Twin Towers at the World Trade Center.  Watching such a noticeable camera move is obviously a shock to anyone watching "Rich Man, Poor Man" after 2001 will obviously be startled by the gleaming towers, but that's not the problem.  The problem is that it's 1962, more than a decade before they were completed and years before they were even started!  That's simply bad editing.  No one noticed that?

William Jefferson and Nick Nolte have to part, at least for now, their dreams of chartering yachts in France put on hold.  Nick returns to the fleabag where he had hidden out before shipping off to find out that Peter had stopped by looking for him.  "Want me to get him?" his friend asks.  "What I want, in this order, is a bottle, a blonde, something to eat and a newspaper," Nick decides.  Nick realizes he's been recognized on the boat and he's told the mob guys are still after him, so Nick needs a gun.

Just as Nick is given the gun, Peter comes into the room, starting at the barrel of it.  It's a hokey go-to-commercial moment that we will see over and over again in the ensuing years, and one that even daytime soap operas had down pat by 1976.  It would take nighttime soap operas to make a moment like that carry interest for an entire summer, rather than through a few minutes of advertising for cat chow and bleach alternatives.

The brothers have not seen each other in many years, and it may seem strange that a VIP like Peter Strauss, risking being caught in a seedy motel with his on-the-lam brother, a gun and a hooker (the blonde is still there), has to deliver the news about their mother in person, but that's drama for you.  Peter simply drops the news about their mother's condition amid all the squalor and the two drive upstate.  Nick is the chattier one, seemingly proud of his brother.  Peter is most happy to announce he's "finally" married Susan.  They seem as different as, well, a rich man and a poor man, but even Peter takes a swig out of the bottle as they dash to face mom in the hospital.

Dorothy McGuire has made it through all of "Rich Man, Poor Man," including the weird character transformation, and she certainly deserves the hospital deathbed scene you knew was coming the moment we heard she was sick.  It even starts with a priest, a monsignor, no less, having just administered last rights.  "She's been holding on until you could get here," he tells Peter.  The doctor isn't even sure she can hear, but no actress is going to give up this chance!  She seems catatonic, clutching rosary beads, but then her hand twitches.  She speaks, incomprehensibly, asking for Peter, not realizing it's her other son there with her.  "Is that you?" she asks him, slowly.  He pulls out a present he long ago promised her, a scarf with a Mediterranean map, lying a little and saying he already has his operation going and his son back with him.  She has a slow apology for short-changing him.  "I gave so much to [Peter], there wasn't enough left over for you," she says, no doubt sparking water works in millions of viewers.  "Try not to hate me," she asks and then asks Nick to hold her as she finally dies.  It's interesting to note that Peter has not been in the room the whole time.  It's her wayward son, the one she discarded, who is with her as she breathes her last.  Nick acts the moment beautifully, quietly realizing the impact of the moment.

Susan is out in the hallway, not having seen Susan since her night with Robert Reed, but he can only handle so much emotion.  "Am I the only one who needs a drink around here?" he asks.  Robert Reed, sporting gray hair and a weird accent, weirder than before, is at the funeral.  He also hasn't seen Susan or Nick since the night as his house.  "I hope we can get together, discuss old times," he says like the cunning fox he is, but Susan is mature now.  "I'm really not one for discussing old times," she retorts, pulling her hand away from his.  Peter is the only person there who doesn't know the secrets that could still split them all.

However, Susan, in yet another turban, can't help but remember the past and as Nick drinks heavily, he's a little fuzzy on things.  Peter brings up the fact that Nick set the fire that fateful night at Robert's place, asking him why he set the fire.  Luckily, the conversation steers clear of the exchanged glance Nick and Susan shared that night, but when a guest calls Peter away, Susan plays martyr and snaps at Nick, "now would be as good a time as any to tell him."  "There's nothing to tell.  Really.  Truth is, my eyes were so burned from that fire, everything is a blur," he gallantly replies.  Susan has a panic attack and Nick comforts her, but one of Peter's political cronies storms in with good news, though Peter seems oblivious to the fact that it's a bad time; Nick and Susan clearly see the absurdity.

It's a moment like the above that begs the question, once again, of just who is the rich man and who is the poor man?  On the surface, life has sucked for Nick, yet he's always content, always able to deal with what life throws him, while Peter has boxed himself into a shrink-wrapped life that is rather unpleasant and entirely too clinical.  Unfortunately, the acting isn't always consistent enough to completely power this question, but at least the writing realizes it.  A lot of bigger and grander miniseries will be coming that ask bigger and grander questions in far more stilted or laughable ways.  "Rich Man, Poor Man" yet again glosses over the truth with a light touch, just enough to make one aware that it has not spiraled into epic boredom, grasping to get to the end because it has to (take that "Scarlett").

The brothers meet in the kitchen in the middle of the night and it's the first time they use the title words to describe each other.  It turns out Nick is richer by almost $50K, a complete surprise to him.  You see, the last time they met, when Nick gave Peter the $3K he felt he owed Peter for Ed bailing him out of jail, Peter took the money and invested it.  It's grown into piles of money, money Nick can use to finance the dream he had with Herbert Jefferson in France.

As Nick and Herbert depart, and after Nick says "I'm running out of people to hate," finally aware that his brother has never been his enemy," Peter promises to find Nick's son for him.

On election night, the race is close, but it seems Peter is winning when of course more drama gets in the way.  Susan is at home, drunk as hell smashing her beloved photographic history with a hammer.  "I want to take you to bed," Peter says, meaning put her to bed, but Susan has a different take on it.  "You won't be the first, and if I play my cards right, you won't be the last either!" she spits.  Miniseries mantra: when things seem good, they are about to go downhill quickly.  Susan is a crying mess when the press arrives at Peter's house to announce he's won the election.  It's his most exalted moment and her biggest nightmare.  There is no happiness for someone without unhappiness for someone else.

If Chapter 10 taught any lesson, it's that those who seem to be at the bottom have nothing to lose and all to gain.  Nick is a man running for his life who walks into a huge amount of money and can finally set his life on course.  Meanwhile, Peter is a man at the top, which is a tough place to be because one cannot go any higher, one can only fall, and with the mess Susan has turned into, she's threatening to drag him down with her.