Though it's cast and presented like a Brat Pack movie, indeed "Billionaire Boys Club" is a true story, the very epitome of 80s excess: rich boys, lots of money, fancy cars, big-haired women, high living and, of course, murder. The madness, the fashion, the music, it's all here. This is also a rare contemporary miniseries. In fact, the trials in this case did not start until 1987 when this aired. Therefore, we can dispense with hoop skirts and naval khakis, Southern drawls and Biblical epics. Hell, even slumming movie stars aren't necessary. Just the facts themselves, and a lot of 80s glitz are all we need to tell this true-life humdinger of a tale.
(This is a true story, so I'm using character names, but the movie has changed some of them for either dramatic or legal purposes, so some are not actually real-life names.)
The movie starts at the trial, giving us no background yet, but it's a great idea. In the middle of Dean Karny's (Brian McNamara) testimony, names are bandied about, a to-do list for a crime scene is read aloud. What does it all mean? "It's a recipe for murder," the district attorney says.
With the credits, we get a musical soundtrack heavy on the keyboard and the saxophone, pure 80s tackiness. Then it's back to court, where Eric Fairmount (Raphael Sbarge) is on the stand. He gives us the history of the Billionaire Boys Club, or BBC as they called it. Rich kids from Los Angeles were invited into a business with Joe Hunt (Judd Nelson), "the youngest person in the country to get a CPA." Dean, Eric and his brother Chris (Frederic Lehne) go to a swinging 80s club where everyone is dancing with their arms in wacky clothing full of bright colors. Joe knows how to sell his organization for "guys who, frankly, want to start at the top." He promises the whole thing is "risk free," and goes on to explain the financials. He feeds them hokum about running afoul of the Mafia and a "Middle Eastern cartel" with a theory that "black is white and white is black." Not understanding any of this? That's the point. Joe is a flim-flam artist. Talk fast and drop names and numbers, seems to be the way he works. "I believe that rich hungry is tough hungry," he tells a potential investor to the delight of his three new friends. He's full of platitudes like that, which always sound impressive but may not have any real meaning.
Chis and Eric go to their father (James Karen), who gives his tacit approval, though Chris' girlfriend Judy (Gail O'Grady) is a bit skeptical. Chris and Eric spend their inheritance propping up the BBC, but they believe it's all going to turn into piles of money eventually. Also part of the BBC are Bob Holmby (John Dye), Todd Melbourne (Barry Tubb), Toby Kabek (Robert Krantz) and Brad Sedgwick (John Stockwell), so we have a veritable Rogue's Gallery of 80s supporting players all present. "Joe mesmerized everybody. He was our age, but you'd never know. He impressed everybody," Eric says in court, emphasizing that when he was in school with all of these guys, they all though of him as a nerd "with no money." "Joe had this trick of finding your needs and meeting them," he testifies, making Joe sound like every con artist or hooker.
Eric testifies about the "test" Joe gave to all the guys. He brings them into his office and asks, "if you could be absolutely sure you would never get caught, would you kill someone for a million dollars?" The test continues with other questions along those lines, finding out the breaking points of each guy. It's quite masterful. Joe even has a rule that "it's okay to lie as long as you know the truth and it's good for the BBC."
When it's decided the BBC needs a "look," the rich boys want Joe restyled, so a classic MTV-style montage follows. Bad song, bad editing, tacky, headache-inducing. Damn, do I miss the 80s!
Joe has found a computer chip manufacturer that he wants to exploit, the hook for finding investors. He's calling the process this man has "microgenesis." Basically, it boils down to a Ponzi scam, having to find a way to lure investors with the promise of money in the future that is nowhere near set. Only Chris seems to wonder if Joe's big talk is all a bunch of hokum. The others are too blind to see it, though the movie makes it obvious he's all about empty speeches. Taking everyone to the movies, he gives them a massive revelation afterward: "You know why I like movies? Because they ARE reality. It's a perfect example of the way paradox philosophy works..." Oh, what is the movie? "Rambo." Yeah, Joe manages to spin "Rambo" into something so inspiring that it takes not only the walk to dinner, but dinner itself to get the guys to turn their thinking once again to his motto of "winning is everything." He equates Rambo's war to their business dealings.
Enter the victim, a "con man, a real scammer," in Dean's words, Ron Levin (Ron Silver). Joe keeps Ron to himself at first, until it's time to spring the scientific marvel on him. Ron makes Joe look like an amateur. With some of the guys assembled at his mansion, his maid conveniently comes in to tell him the police commissioner is on the phone, "to make sure you got Muhammad Ali for the children's benefit like you promised." Joe's eyes are wide with awe, not realizing he's being played far worse than he's playing. Ron doesn't immediately sign on, and investments in the BBC are low. Joe wants the guys to continue soaking "friends and family" for money.
Ron invites the BBC boys to his tennis club (where he's wearing a suit all of 80s white and of course doesn't play tennis). They all show up in their fancy cars and fancy tennis duds, meant to impress. They all look incredibly pretentious and immature, but only they don't realize it. Outconing the con, Ron strings Joe along, though Joe claims not to trust Ron, "which is why it's going to work," he tells his pals.
After Eric plays witness to Joe jumping from a 25-foot roof into an 8-foot pool, which is apparently so impressive it ranks up there with turning water into wine or inventing fake vomit, Eric's faith is shattered because Joe tells him the commodities in which he's invested tanked with the stock market and Eric is now broke. "What can we do to get it back?" Eric asks. "I'm impressed. You're responding by focusing from a different perspective, instead of finding fault and accusing, that's great! You're a stud," Joe announces, dazzling Eric with that grand piece of malarkey, even promising to make him part of the inner inner circle, though he reneges on that a few days later. Once again, it's Eric's brother Chris who finds all of this a bit hard to swallow, referring to Eric as "Joe's parrot" when Eric dumps a Joe-like speech on him about the lost money. They argue, but Eric has drank the Kool-Aid and Chris has no room to argue.
And just when things look their worst, in swoops Ron Levin with a $5 million commodities account that grows into $14 million in seven weeks. "Everything Joe said would come true had come true," Dean testifies. The boys run to spend the money on apartments, cars and anything that even has a hint of excess. They find every blonde bimbo in LA with crimped hair and wow them with money stories not one of them even pretend to understand. Only Chris and Judy are skeptical, and she because she can poke holes in his philosophies, having actually studied what he blabs. Joe realizes Chris could be a problem and pushes him out of the office to work from a separate lab, out of his hair.
"He said the experiment was over," the commodities broker tells Joe. Apparently, it was "only an experiment" on Ron's part and the money was never real! Joe tells Dean that he will "continue to see Levin because it's our only chance to get any money out of him...or kill him."
Exactly how Ron was able to do this is even more audacious than anything Joe ever fantasized. Ron had told the commodities broker that he was doing a documentary and this was all an experiment, that the guys playing with the account don't know it's not real, but will of course be told. And the broker buys it! As for Joe, even though he knows he's been destroyed, continues to bilk the investors and the other guys with phony profit statements. Joe tells Dean that he technically turned that money, which was never there, into tons more, "and I can do it again." Semi-privately (the token female character is in the room), Joe launches into a tirade of hate and self-delusion, not to mention spectacular ego.
However, Joe keeps Ron close. He gets Ron to admit that though he faked the whole thing, there was a paper trail, which he took to another broker and got $1.5 million for. Oh, man, that's good! He even promises the BBC kids a slice of that. "It was a stall," Dean testifies. You don't say!
There is only one more very important character to meet, security guard Booker (Stan Shaw), "a former Mr. Universe" and "black belt in karate," among other bad-ass titles that label him instantly as the muscle. Joe takes to Booker quickly and has Booker teach the boys karate. If this sounds utterly ridiculous given the cast, try watching it. "With his body and my brains, we are the ultimate man," Joe tells his guys, who can't understand Booker's presence. Now, let's be honest, Stan Shaw is an imposing man, but by 1987 was a bit past his his prime. One assumes he could be outrun quite easily. However, it's really his knowledge of guns that is most impressive. Eric testifies to being confused about just what Stan and his being there were all about.
A problem arises with the car importing side of their business. The cars cannot be certified and then are mysteriously shot up. "You don't shoot up the labs; you fix the cars!" Eric says when Chris comes to him with the story, but Chris knows for sure. Hell, the fatigues worn are still sitting in the lab! Joe, of course, denies the story when Eric brings it to him. "You know how Chris is--dumb. You're working up here because you're twice as smart. Chris is working down in the warehouse doing grunt work and he knows that because he is jealous and because he doesn't like me. You know that," Joe tells Eric, who believes everything he says and agrees to keep in posted on any rumors of the sort that fly around. "Loyalty to the BBC comes first," Joe said. Eric is so brainwashed, down to the empty eyes that follow Joe anywhere.
Dean returns from a business trip and finds Joe in his office writing a murder to-do list. Joe doesn't try to hide it from him at all. He testifies that he knew then Ron Levin was going to be murdered, but he couldn't call the police because "I was a part of it." Joe has a whopper of a plan, down to corporate seals, hole punchers and Booker pretending to be a mob informant. There are a slew of contingency plans too. And it's all planned for June 6, D Day.
The alibi is that Dean is supposed to be at the movies with Joe. Dean actually went to the movies, saw Joe when he got home and then was awoken by Joe the next morning with the chipper news that, "we did it, Ron Levin is dead" and then figures of money he bullied out of him. Joe then describes it all. Joe brought dinner, Stan arrived and Ron bought the whole Booker-as-mob-enforcer story. Ron agreed to the money, but Booker made a mistake, which Joe considers too big to leave Ron alive, so he had Booker shoot him. Joe so calmly describes how they took the body away, what they did to make the body "unrecognizable" and how "with one of the shots, Levin's brain jumped out of his skull and landed on his chest. It was neat, in a weird way." Booker was sent to NYC to check into a hotel with Ron's credit card to make it seem like Ron was in NYC.
Unfortunately, using the credit cards proved to be a mistake because the cards were maxed out, so Booker bolted with any evidence, was caught and arrested. They smooth that over, but there's another problem: Ron Levin's check is rubber. This sends Joe over the edge into a crying fit. "He scammed me twice!" he blubbers to his girlfriend Amy (Jill Schoelen), "they'll laugh at me, they'll really laugh."
When Eric asks why the office is a ghost town, Joe, once again calmly, admits to killing Ron Levin. "Eric, Brad, Amy, Kabek, Todd, Holmby, me, Booker and Joe," are the names of the people Dean says he and Joe decided to trust with the full truth. With all of them assembled, Joe goes into a gigantic speech about how he and Booker killed Ron as protection of their company, etc. He reminds everyone of the "test" he gave them, "and I passed the test and you are all now a part of it. There comes a time when everyone must pass that line if they are to achieve their dreams." He's still working the ego route, even with a murder involved! He also notes that if anyone blabs, "he will end up in the East River."
Holmby testifies that he felt Joe was still a role model, some tripe about an eagle bringing back food (Levin's money) to his brood. In fact, he wasn't sure if a crime had been committed or if Joe was simply bragging again. Eric has his doubts and commits them to a tape recorder because he doesn't know what to believe, but if it's true, he doesn't want to get anyone else in trouble.
Chris was not involved in the meeting, but he's soon told of it (and not by his brother), the first time someone outside of the meeting was informed. Chris goes to his father with the news. His father only wants to protect his sons, so calls in an attorney. The lawyer tells them there is no crime, because there is no body. However, if they can prove he is dead, they need more of the meeting attendees to turn on Joe. As for the police, Ron Levin's father reports him missing and the police already have a file going on him, but carp, "con men end up dead all the time" and don't take it very seriously.
With "morale really bad," Joe somehow gets a huge amount of cash and throws a gigantic party with all the trappings, including fancy motorcycles for everyone. To another ear-splitting sax montage, the guys, in tuxedos, go cruising around LA on their new bikes. At the party is Masud Nabodi (Robert Hallak), a wealthy Iranian who wants to invest in the BBC. He seems like the perfect new cash influx because his father is worth tens of millions that Masud wants. The problem is that Masud and his father hate each other, so, as Dean testifies, they would have to kidnap the father, make him sign over his fortune to his son and then kill him. He's almost as calm as Joe would be about it. They even have a motive, blame the Iranian government because Masud's father is an enemy of the Ayatollah.
The first part ends with Brad (who is the only one, along with Chris, working to bring Joe down), "feeling out" Joe to find cracks in the story. "No one will ever find the body. It was the perfect crime," Joe smirks. Yeah, that and every other perfect crime.
Dean is back on the stand, testifying to the planned murder of Masud's father, "because we need the money." That's how warped not only Joe had become, but his minions because they were so brainwashed by Joe's ego and his rousing rah-rah talks that always manage to make even more dewy-eyed. This new murder is planned with even more detail than the last, down to the catnip suggested to keep the body from stinking. Poor Dean has to go to a sex shop where an ancient woman sells him handcuffs and a gag, along with buying a trunk for the body.
At the same time, Brad and Chris try their best to find out anything they can from Eric, but he tows the line, and Chris pushes it awfully far. Why? "It's all I got." And that's Joe's ace, the same we've learned about every cult leader in history: fine the lonely and the sad and make them feel special. But remember, Eric has his doubts, in secret, that he tells his tape recorder.
As Todd, Booker and Joe are about to pull off the second murder with the help of Masud and Dean, the police finally start to take Chris and Brad's claims seriously, going a little too fast because they have no evidence. Luckily, Eric finally tells them what happened at the meeting, that Joe confessed to murdering Ron Levin. Dim Eric is thrilled to know he's not alone with this knowledge. "That moment with Chris was the greatest...the greatest day of my life," he testifies, his face gleeful, but the sentiment sad.
Joe and company do indeed kidnap Masud's father as planned (to wild electric guitar riffing). The only deviation from the plans was Todd washing his hands, which Joe says "is demonstrative of some kind of weakness." To get Masud's father from San Francisco to Los Angeles, they hire a rental truck, having Masud stay in town to make things look normal. The kidnapped man howls nearly the whole trip and Dean gets sickened, but finally the screams stop. Dean decides to "punch air holes in the top so he could breathe," which no doubt Joe would be unhappy to hear. But the noises start again, so Dean puts tape over the holes. Joe would be pissed at this show of emotion and steps outside of the plan. Back and forth they go with the covering and uncovering of the holes. Realizing the tail lights on the rental are not working, Joe says they have to move the body back to his truck so as not to risk being stopped and searched.
Dean is forced to open the trunk to see if Masud's father is still breathing, as all noises had stopped. Because he sees "his stomach moving up and down" and some "drooling," he "took that to mean he was still alive." Some time goes by and Dean goes back again, to check for a pulse. "I found no pulse, no breath," realizing the movements he saw before were from the bouncing of the truck, deciding the man has to be dead. Joe orders mouth-to-mouth, but Dean disobeys. "Damn," is all Joe says. "I guess we blew it," Dean nervously answers.
The only thing that seems to worry Joe is that Booker will find out what happened. So, he decides that Booker must be kept from the truth until he can reconstruct a new plan "to get what we want." In his thinking, they can draw up the papers giving Masud control of his father's assets, which they were always going to do, but now they just have to forge his signature instead of getting him to actually sign it. Plus, Masud's father had been threatened with death by many others, so not only would suspicion not only fall on them, but they don't have to destroy the body. So, at Joe's insistence, they take the body to the same place they took Ron Levin's body. As for the evidence, "we just threw it out the window...or at various dumpsters," Dean testifies.
Yes, I know, even a casual Agatha Christie fan can see all of the holes, all of the places where half-decent police work can find the killers. But does Joe know that? His confidence is his Achilles heel, always has been.
As for the other plotters, Chris and Brad need to figure out who else in the BBC they can trust. Eric is worried because if they choose incorrectly, "bang bang" he says, using his fingers as a mock gun. And he knows only the half of it. Literally! "Let us worry about the defectors," they tell him, urging him to continue as normal and dig up any evidence he can.
Actually, Joe is still supremely confident, overly cocky. He tells Eric he calls Ron Levin's machine every day and leaves a message. "So, when the police find out..." Eric says, pretending to be amazed. "IF they police find out," Joe corrects him, with a big smile. There is some business about forging Ron Levin's signature that ends in Eric being forced, with Dean and Joe watching, to forge Ron's signature, which Brad and Chris worry can be used against him.
In the dealings of Masud's father, they unfortunately find only closed bank accounts, though the FBI is being brought in to investigate his disappearance because they suspect "terrorists," which makes Booker giggle...truly, like a seven-year-old girl. Joe has Holmby notarize a document knowing that Masud's father's signature is forged because "the terrorists didn't give him time to sign over power of attorney." Now they can search through Swiss banks for his money.
Eric has been photocopying documents without anyone paying attention, so he, Chris and Brad take their evidence to the police. The cops are worried that the evidence can be seen as legit and that all Joe did was confess to a murder, as a known liar to other known liar. "We'll need more of those nine people Joe confessed to," they are told. They score a winner on their first try with Kabek and then Ristelli (Eric Larson).
Detective Stoloff (Peter Jason), is given permission by Ron Levin's father to go through Ron's house and Joe's name comes up a few times.
Ristelli, who is the company lawyer, is sent to San Francisco with Booker to deal with some Masud paperwork and Booker tells him of the whole plan, though he still thinks Masud's father "had a heart attack." He quickly races to Eric and Chris, to tell them "Joe did it again. He's killed someone else, Mr. Nabodi's father." Holmby tells Joe that "somebody is stealing documents." He fingers Eric has been hanging out late at night, and Eric has never exactly covered his tracks. "Let's tell everyone to keep an eye on Eric. Chris is already a lost cause and he may have corrupted Eric," Joe tells Holmby and Dean.
Meanwhile, the police have brought in the FBI, SEC and everyone else possible based on Ristelli's story, and task forces are formed. "Can I ask a dumb question? Is anyone going to arrest Joe Hunt?" Chris asks, waved away by Stoloff.
The cyclotron machine is ready and Chris, Brad and Eric use that as an excuse to get out of town, but Joe first summons the three to his office to accuse them of stealing the documents, threatening to kill anyone who has done so. All deny it. "Remember guys, you can't beat a good conspiracy," Dean tells them on the way out. They then hide the machine, "so Joe can't make any money off it" and drove east to avoid Joe's clutches, calling every day to pretend they are at the site in Arizona. Meanwhile, Joe and Holmby break into Eric and Chris' apartment to look for the stolen documents. What he finds is worse: a message on the machine from Stoloff.
They three, out of money, have to return to town, but without Joe or Booker finding out. Yeah, guys, you might want to ditch the enormous orange van, if that's the case! Masterminds, these guys are not. Arriving right on their heels is Joe. He fires Chris and Brad, but invites Eric to stay and go with him, though Eric decides to quit. Citing "unfinished business," Joe wants them to meet him at the warehouse, which Chris calls "too isolated." To back up his threat, Joe makes sure the three can see Booker's car across the street. Joe asks Eric for the documents, offering to exchange one that implicates him, but Eric refuses. "You guys are amateurs at this sort of thing," Joe smoothly says, "and I declare war on you." He tells them he knows about Stoloff and everything else.
The trio is nervous. They move around and buy a gun, while Joe, Holmby and Dean plot against them. They intend to pin the Levin murder on Chris, but Joe comes up with a real corker for Brad. He says they plant ideas that he was some sort of sexual deviant, get Amy to back it up, then kill Brad's girlfriend and make it seem like the death occurred during sex. Even Dean and Holmby question that one! Dean testifies that "no one wanted to have anything to do with a plan like that!"
The police originally aren't getting anywhere, with nothing but contempt for "these rich kids." But, eventually the DA tells Stoloff to arrest Joe. Not surprisingly, Joe is calm during interrogation, "freely and at some length" answering every question the police lob at him. Until he sees the "to do" list for the Ron Levin murder. He stares at them while music blares, and then denies having written them, finally asking for a lawyer. Oh, come on, someone get Jessica Fletcher on this case. She'll crack it wide open.
Knowing that calls are monitored, Joe calls Dean from jail to establish alibis. And then Joe is released, causing the intrepid three to flee town again. "I kind of enjoyed talking to Detective Stoloff," Joe tells Dean. "What's he like?" "Kind of stupid," Joe answers. He believes he's in no trouble and that he even "masked" his feelings about the "to do" lists. "We planned brilliantly! No bodies, no witnesses!" he proclaims. Even better news, they have found money from Masud's father in Switzerland. However, he and Dean have no idea that at that moment, the Swiss bank is talking to the DA, telling him the signature on the power of attorney is a fraud. That and some other clues seem to seal it and they decide to "tell it to the judge." At 3am, they call a judge to freeze the Swiss assets, because "it's noon in Switzerland." They manage in just enough time, the power of attorney revoked as the money was about to be handed over to Masud and Todd.
Joe is arrested again, and this time Booker as well. Dean, who has been making himself sick over the whole affair, manages to get a copy of the police report. With that information, he goes to the police and is granted immunity in exchange for full testimony. He leads the police to the dump site where they find a skull. Amy testifies (though Jill's performance is so bad, I can only imagine how many takes it took to get everyone to stop laughing as she went through it) and adds more to the case, though she's a defense witness. There's a in-joke punchline to her testimony, when the DA asks her what her occupation is. "Actress." Amy, apparently. Definitely not Jill.
One witness we haven't seen yet, and unbilled Shirley Knight (we need a slummer, since the average age of the cast isn't old enough to have even been there once to have become half a has-been) as Joe's mother. "Joe would always find out what you liked, what you wanted to do, and then he would always find time to do that particular thing and share it with you. Even among children, he was a good leader because he was the type people enjoyed. He did it very subtly," she testifies. Doesn't sound like a psychopath, but then again, she is a defense witness as well. That and some stories about a heavy-handed father are supposed to make Joe somewhat sympathetic. I think it's way too late for that! Take a lesson, Jill, Shirley gives a classic courtroom performance, crying, hesitating, whispering, the whole deal! The DA counters Joe's mother with Ron's mother, and ultimately, nothing looks good for Joe.
Joe's lawyer declines to put him on the stand, so it's right to closing arguments, the final bursts for dependable actors Dale Dye and James Sloyan, who aren't even given character names. The guilty verdict is no surprise, because without it, we couldn't have had a miniseries based on it. A woman rushes to ask Joe his reaction. Cool as always, he replies, "astonishment, because Ron Levin is alive and well and will be found in the next couple of years," denying his guilt. He is sentenced to life in prison without parole. His comment to that? "My only responsibility is to keep my chin up. That's what I do best." That's just plain creepy!
Understandably Emmy-nominated itself and its writing, "Billionaire Boys Club" holds up better than what are considered classic 80s movies like "Fatal Attraction" and "Wall Street," considered the ultimate in 80s fare. How is that possible? Because the latter rely on 80s "excesses" that eventually came to abrupt halts. "Billionaire Boys Club" is actually about one cold-blooded killer, the 80s merely a backdrop for his true story. So, the excesses can be there for fun, but they are not the focus. The focus is squarely on the case itself and the lead murderer behind it. Like Jean Harris or Charles Manson or other famous murderers whose stories have become miniseries, Joe Hunt is so unique a character, a supremely confident and gifted liar who truly saw nothing wrong with going the extra step to actual murder to get what he wanted. In fact, "Billionaire Boys Club" doesn't actually exploit his greed (a key 80s excess, of course) to be rich like all the kids he gets into the BBC after the first few minutes. It relies completely on the case itself and the fact that Joe Hunt is just one hell of a great murderer, naturally brought down by the system he created (like all the others). Judd Nelson gives a fascinating and consistent performance as Joe Hunt, slick and so comfortable in his own skin. Brian McNamara, always undervalued, is wonderful as his accomplice and the rest all manage to click, though in that 80s style of acting that didn't actually demand outstanding work, just dedication. The case itself is so interesting and the writing so forceful, acting is really secondary in the success of "Billionaire Boys Club."
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Beulah Land (1980)
Read this description: "An epic story of the Old South...follows the trials and tribulations of...a strong-willed woman who runs a thriving plantation in antebellum Georgia. Married to a man whose wasteful ways take her family to the brink of ruin...struggles, to endure family betrayals, extramarital affairs, financial hardships and General Sherman's troops in a sweeping series..."
Even with the ellipses, it sounds familiar, right? "Gone With the Wind," no? No. "Scarlett?" No, we've done that, remember? "North and South?" Oh, come on! That's not a female-focused story!
Nope, this would be "Beulah Land," a decade and a half before "Scarlett," (giddy where "Scarlett" is maddening). But, it might as well be "Gone With the Wind," because it's virtually the same story. Countless Civil War tales of vibrant heroines followed Margaret Mitchell's, and we know that the miniseries adores Civil War fables. "Beulah Land" is actually on the early side of miniseries history, right on the heels of "Roots," so this story wasn't as tired and familiar to TV audiences as it would be by the time "Scarlett" came around to wrap up the genre. However, it's also not nearly as decorous or well-written as "North and South," which really did define Civil War miniseries (from the white point-of-view).
Lesley Ann Warren, who did valiant work in a slew of miniseries, is the Scarlett stand-in here, though her character is a smart and much-loved woman. Curious that she would take the part, less than a decade after having actually playing Miss O'Hara herself in a musical version of "Gone With the Wind," which closed on the road to a planned Broadway production. But, the handful of audiences who saw her in that barely matter compared to the viewership of even the most forgotten of miniseries.
"Beulah Land" really has the potential to be riotously funny, but other than some very wrong performances, it's actually nothing more than predictable. The plot twists are obvious and it could have been done in less time, but it's also not terrible. In 1980, the genre was young and fresh and even a much-told chestnut like "Beulah Land" keeps on the right side of the quality line, especially with Lesley Ann Warren giving a fantastic performance.
Everything looks mighty content with the slaves in the cotton fields. Riding through the fields are Aunt Martha Scott and her two young nieces, who don't realize this is all part of the majestic plantation, Beulah Land (which does not, I'm afraid, seem to have a theme song of its own like Tara). The super-friendly black coach driver explains the history of Beulah Land ("it's from the Book of Isaiah") and even grins when asked if the head honcho is a "good master," though managing to give an evasive answer.
The so-called master is actually a kid, young Todd Lookinland, who is out in the fields being mischievous. Dedicated house slave Clarice Taylor (an awfully lively take on the "Mammy" character) and his mother Hope Lange are obviously fed up with him, and he's not there to greet the arriving kinfolks on this fine 1827 day. The coach driver fetches Todd, who is greeting in the foyer by a big slap from his mother. "You knew company was comin', but you deliberately ran off," Hope snarls.
Equally nasty, but far scarier, is overseer Paul Shenar, who wants to beat young Todd's slave friend, though stopped from doing so. Pissed that he has no one to whip, Paul hisses, "this black snake is thirsty, boy, better stay out of his way," referring to his whip, though it took me two tries to figure that one out. He flicks it for good measure.
Now, Aunt Martha showed up with two young nieces, one blonde and loving every minute of being a Southerner (thrilled to go when invited to see where they hang the slaves at Beulah Land) and one brunette, a quiet sweet type (the opposite of the sisters in "North and South," where Genie Francis was so sweet it hurt and Teri Garber was so nasty it tickled). The little brunette is so adorable that she helps Todd get a plate of food, brought to him by his slave friend, who claims, "any food you got, we got too." Since when? The little brunette even wanders through the Bible to find the reference to Beulah Land. No one doubted it, but the little blonde cracks, "that sounds foolish" because it sounds too idyllic. Directly after that, she's horrified to see the overseer whipping a slave, though Hope and Martha can't understand her frustration. Martha and nieces finish their visit with only Todd sorry to see them go. He's taken a shine to the little brunette.
Let's jump ahead seven years and get rid of the pesky kids. The little brunette has become Lesley Ann Warren, everyone's darling. Madeleine Stowe is as sullen as ever as Hope's daughter (she's only happy hanging out in the kitchen with Clarice's daughter, Jean Foster), though handsome Don Johnson (yup, Don Johnson, temporarily antebellum before pastel sport coats overwhelmed his career) tries to be nice to her. And the master is more grown up, a very perky blond Paul Rudd (not the Paul Rudd you think, just an actor with the same name).
What do all pre-war young men of stature do before the horrors will either kill them or turn them earnest? They get drunk in town, just like Don and Paul, who overdo their accents, stumble and tell crass stories. Don confesses he wants to get busy with someone. "Now you know what they say, pedigree or not, they all lay eggs," he notes, before revealing it's Lesley Ann's blonde sister he worships. "She's be mighty good for what ails you," Don notes, but Paul wonders about Lesley Ann. "She's an angel, she's gonna be a virgin 'til she's..." Uh oh, he realizes that Paul actually fancies Lesley Ann. Well, he had a confession to make himself. Though he's all talk about women, it's Madeleine he really loves, though Lord knows why, she's so damn miserable. Paul is thrilled that they might be brothers-in-law. They cackle and continue their drunken revelry.
Paul Shenar visits a house of ill repute, where he wants only Jenny Agutter, though the other gals can't understand why. "Every time you come for [Jenny], you have to wait," one says. Well, I guess popularity is a good thing in their trade. Actually not. Paul is very jealous of any man who spends time with his beloved British tart. "Waiting is waiting," he snarls. "And work is work," she replies, "but play is play" and leans down to kiss him. "When you and I go upstairs, people know better than to wait," she laughs as they head up for some privacy.
Approaching Hope bravely, Don asks for Madeleine's hand in marriage. Clarice praises the heavens. Hope asks if it's actually true, and Madeleine actually seems happy to admit it is, though when she looks at Jean, the latter is staring daggers. Hmmm, exactly what has been going on between these two since Madeleine was a girl and crashes the all-black hoe-downs to dance with her slave friend?
Rushing through the woods in a carriage with Jenny, Paul Shenar is stopped by one of the local landowners who needs to borrow money. The guarantee behind it is his land. Paul tells Jenny he intends to own so much land that it will make even the owners of Beulah Land quake. Villains are never subtle in these pieces, but in under 30 minutes, we've seen Paul Shenar commit pretty much all of the seven deadly sins. Of course, we know how he'll ultimately end up, but hopefully he'll be mean old fun until the inevitable. The next day, Jenny is introduced to Hope and her frizzy-haired son Paul, whom of course she knows as "Mr. Jones of Charleston," aka a frequent visitor to the whorehouse. "You're not going to tattle on me?" she coyly asks. "Not if you don't tattle on me," he replies with a toothy smile.
Lesley's blonde sister has grown up into Meredith Baxter (with Birney here), a braying brat. In order to get Lesley's attention through the wall, she goes into a howling routine, and of course Lesley falls for it. The reason is to inform her that she's fallen in love with an actor whose company is leaving town. Next morning, when Aunt Martha Scott hits the floor with a scream, a slave merely clucks, "she fainted again?" but Lesley sees the note in her hand: yup, Meredith has eloped with the actor. Aunt Martha cries the entire way to Beulah Land, having missed Don and Madeleine's wedding.
Don is also missing Don and Madeleine's wedding, so drunk that he not only knocks over furniture, but rips Madeleine's dress as she recoils in horror. "You gonna take them clothes off or am I gonna have to take them off for you?" he asks her as she realizes she apparently made a mistake marrying him (let's get together a big chorus of "I told you so" for when Jean finds out). Madeleine tries to resist Don's advances, but he slaps her down to the bed, telling her, "you can scream, but ain't nobody going to get involved in this private matter" and rapes her.
A friend to all slaves, because she's so gleefully angelic, Lesley is trotting through the woods with one slave while waving hellos as another (Dorian Harewood is the grown-up version of Paul Rudd's childhood friend), when they come across that other great-friend-to-the-slaves, Madeleine, bloody and nearly passed out. She's taken to the slave quarters where Hope is summoned. "Did you refuse to consummate your marriage?" Hope asks coldly. "You have humiliated me," she adds, puts on her iciest face and walks out as quickly as she came in. Egad, that is one bitch of a mother!
"Mother's not someone you love or hate. She's someone you accept or hate," Paul Rudd tells Lesley as they poke along through the woods on horses. She was a bit aghast at Hope's reaction to her daughter's beating. This worries Lesley because she's crushing on Paul. "I wonder if she really likes me or just approves of me," she wonders aloud with a flirty smile. "With mother, I think they are the same thing," he reassures her. Stay away from the crazies, Lesley!!!!! Oh, and if Hope isn't scary enough, overseer Paul Shenar and his ex-hooker wife also look at her funny whenever she's around. Only Dorian Harewood treats her nicely, forging a ring for her in his capacity as blacksmith. He's doing his best to get Paul Rudd to propose to her.
When Don shows up to claim Madeleine, still looking like a drunk devil, Clarice meets him at the door and gives him the strangest pep talk in miniseries history, claiming he can't see her because she and the others need time to talk to her and get her to realize her wifely duties. What the hell goes on at Beulah Land? Is it Stepford 150 years too early? "You tell her I'm coming back here to take her home," Don insists. Clarice then catches her daughter Jean running around the house with a gigantic knife, saying, "I'm not going to let him hurt her again, Mama." Clarice wrestles the knife from her and Jean goes to visit Madeleine, finding her catatonic in bed. She actually responds to Jean, holding out a hand for her.
"Marry me. I and Beulah Land need you," Paul Rudd uses as a marriage proposal because Lesley is set to depart. These two are so happy and chaste, they have never even exchanged cheek pecs, but she agrees and they couldn't be more excited. Before we know it (literally, the next scene), Paul Rudd is hung over from his bachelor party, going to Dorian's hovel to first complain of his physical state, then his excitement and then his nerves. Unfortunately, he and Dorian can't be friends like they used to be, and Dorian is rather unpleasant to him about it.
Everyone is invited to the wedding. Don's parents tell him to behave and not make a fuss, even if Madeleine does not put in an appearance. The slaves are all decked out in ridiculous livery for the occasion. Only the Paul Shenars are missing because they are in a huff having not been invited to all the festivities, only the ceremony. Madeleine and Jean watch from a window, upsetting Don, who misses his cue as ring-bearer. Paul slips on the new wedding ring as well as the one Dorian made, though he's had that dipped in gold. "I know that Beulah Lane is going to be in good hands," an uncharacteristically chipper Hope tells brother-in-law Eddie Albert and Governor Peter Hobbs. Only the kitchen slaves seem to be upset, and then just a few of the women who know they can never enjoy such a lovely day and wedding of their own.
Governor Peter Hobbs chastises Hope for teaching her slaves to read, and she replies that it's actually a good thing, because "they never run away." He's only worried about his re-election and how this could affect it. Frankly, I don't see the connection. "Let's just hope we don't have another Nat Turner on our hands," he mutters to her. Don pounds on Madeleine's door as the guests are leaving and demands she return home with him. Jean opens the door, points a gun at Don and tells him, "go away and never come back!" As you can expect, he does not react well, shouting until his father slaps him across the face.
Lesley takes to her role as mistress of Beulah Lane like gangbusters as we jump ahead a year. She summons Paul Shenar and rails at him for whipping a slave. "I sent word to you that I do not approve of whippin'," she tells him, but he replies, "but you did not forbid it." She officially forbids it. He pulls out one of the hoariest excuses of all slave ownership and most overused line in moviedom about it, noting, "slaves are like children. They must be punished or discipline will be destroy." All whippings must be approved by her or her husband. Furthermore, she wants him to stop pulling "my slaves" out of school. By the way, the school is taught by Madeleine and Jean.
Lesley is not thrilled when she learns that Franklyn's father is her husband. "It happens all the time," Madeleine and Jean tell her, that plantation owners "have their way" with slaves whenever they want. In a rage, she confronts her gun-cleaning husband about it, and he tells her the true story and then snaps, "a Southern lady should NEVER mention such matters to her husband!" Hope, who is obviously dying, tells Lesley she had to treat her son with cruelty over the matter because "the only thing that matters is to keep Beulah Land thriving." Thank you, Gerald O'Hara. Lesley finally admits her unabashed love for Beulah Land.
Two years later, Paul Shenar, having trouble with Dorian Harewood, comes to discuss "the North Field." Lesley has given "specific instructions" on how that field was supposed to be handled, so the surprise of her dippy husband, who clearly doesn't care, and now Paul Shenar wants to reprimand Dorian for following Lesley's orders. Naturally, Lesley puts the kibosh on it, so Paul Shenar retorts, "I do hope your mother is doing better these days," as a swipe at Lesley. "Don't you think I know who's running Beulah Land? Every time I try to be the master, I end up being the fool!" Paul Rudd yells at Lesley in frustration.
Paul Rudd flits off to see his sister-in-law Meredith, who is in town with the theater company. They flirt hot and heavy from the onset, and since she's tarted up, TV-speak for "I'm ready to have sex," they are kissing in the middle of sentences and thus an affair begins. And wouldn't you know (of course you do, because we know how plot twists occur in pairs in these things), that's the very night Hope picks to die. When Lesley tells Madeleine, hiding in her room with Jean, Madeleine tells Lesley to plan the funeral.
Eddie Albert gives everyone the news Hope's will decrees the lead slaves (though four with speaking parts) have been freed, but Jean reacts angrily since it's technically "illegal in the state of Georgia" and they "can't use the papers unless we leave the state." "You may not want them now, but someday they may be very valuable to you," Eddie cautions. He must know the Civil War is fast approaching.
Looking even more tarted up, Meredith pays a visit to Beulah Land. "Actors don't usually come home unless they're hungry," Don Johnson's smart-ass mother wryly adds. This is going to be uncomfortable for Paul Rudd! Meredith is pregnant, allowing Lesley to think the baby belongs to her actor husband, who abandoned her long before Paul arrived in her life and knocked her up. "It's so great to be home," Meredith keeps cooing, though Beulah Land has never been her home. Details, details. Oh, and she flirts shamelessly with her old flame Don.
Meredith turns out to be a first class bitch. "Of course it's yours!" she yells at Paul when he asks if it's his baby. And what does she want? "To be treated as a first class lady...after all, it's me who is giving you a child," a nasty swipe at her sister, who has yet to become a mother. After he leaves Meredith, who is actually cackling, he gets drunk and ends up riding past Jenny's house, where she's lonely, though okay with that since "the more he [Paul Shenar] beats on them [slave women], the less he beats on me." He declines her offer of sex (for now) and stumbles home drunk where he insults Dorian. Lesley tells him he can't keep getting drunk because "Beulah Land needs you." "You're Beulah Land," he slurs and crumples to the floor. More Melanie than Scarlett, she cradles him with only sweetness in her demeanor.
Dorian fixes a parlor table with a metal piece and when they look under the table to wonder at it, their hands touch. Just as they are realizing the attraction we've long seen, Clarice sees it too and calls everyone out to see one of the slaves breastfeeding absentee Meredith's baby with her own, "just like I done" with Paul Rudd and Dorian. Dorian leaves Beulah Land because of his attraction. Paul Shenar wants to go after Dorian because he stole a horse, but Eddie Albert arrives just in time to say he gave him the horse, defended by Lesley, who said as uncle to her husband, he had every right to do so. To Dorian's parents, she says, "be proud. He must have had a good reason or he never would have left us. He's a good man!" without a trace of irony or self-awareness. More "God bless yous" are exchanged than fist bumps after dessert at Hooters.
In the middle of the night, Lesley catches Meredith fleeing, suitcases in hand, to start a life with Don Johnson. They argue and Lesley asks how she can leave the child, which she admits is Paul's. "I give her to you," Meredith coldly announces and Lesley demands she leave. She runs into the bedroom and starts beating her husband for his women. He weakly apologizes, but she and the music are way too angry! The only thing that calms her down is the baby, which she can now raise as her own. "You're gonna have a mama now, a real mama," she tells the baby as the score changes to triumphant and determined. That's as good a place as any to end the first installment.
We pick up the story in 1838. Paul Shenar and his wife Jenny now own land and are two years gone from Beulah Land. Paul is thrilled because the family he so detested has fallen on hard times and needs money. "I am gonna be the master of Beulah Land before this is over," Paul declares to his wife. Paul Shenar wants to buy five slaves to help with the cash flow, but Lesley would never sell slaves because she doesn't see them like that. "Slaves don't care who owns them," Paul Shenar tells her. She's indignant, refusing to sell slaves to a man she knows will beat them. "We will not sell, but if we are ever forced to sell, we will not sell to you," she vows.
Cue the warehouse fire. Yes, that's where all the cotton is stored, so this will bankrupt them for sure. There's always a warehouse fire in these stories. Lesley knows Paul Shenar did it, but "we can never prove it." Meanwhile, manning the water brigade, Eddie Albert has a stroke (don't worry, he'll live to mug another day). Paul Shenar returns with an offer to buy Beulah Land, but Lesley once again refuses, steely as ever when it comes to this slimeball, who gets in a dig as he leaves that "I thought [Paul Rudd] was the master of Beulah Land." He tells Lesley, "we have to swallow our pride," accepting responsibility for the "change in our fortunes," but Lesley is adamant they not sell to the former overseer. "We're gonna pray for a miracle and we're gonna find a way!" Lesley rages, just as Aunt Martha Scott arrives for her annual visit. Deux ex machina-in-petticoats, she gives them a check to cover all the money owed on Beulah Land. "I hope it helps," she says sweetly.
Also back at Beulah Land is an obviously successful Dorian, who of course sports a mustache as proof of his success. His parents are overjoyed, though dad takes his hammy time getting there. Paul and Lesley are happy too, though Dorian tells them he's learned, "being a colored man, saying you're free and being free are two different things." They ignore that comment. Paul invites Dorian to be the overseer, the first black man ever, so they will call him "foreman." With everything but the bugles, the three decide to "get Beulah Land back on its feet!"
1846 sweeps in with the speed of a title card. Dorian's father has died, though there is only a ramshackle headstone to note it, where Dorian finds her, rather than at her big fancy party. A portrait painter, Michael Sarrazin, has come to Beulah Land. He first painted Madeleine and Jean, looking like perfectly miserable lesbians in the picture, which means they must be quite happy together. Michael is a smooth one. Unable to get Lesley to sit still long enough to be painted, he tells her "the challenge will be not only to portray you, but also your devotion to the land." Oh, for crying out loud! Naturally, there is an attraction between them.
Once she finally does sit, Lesley and Michael discuss abolition, morality, the history of slavery, etc., all the boring stuff that needs to be said to make this educational as well as entertaining. Michael keeps saying the settings and dresses Lesley wears are all wrong so he can stretch out their time together and discuss politics. Lesley fills the little scenes with terrific acting, but Michael is as wooden as a stick of furniture, so it's easy to tune out. Finally, Michael kisses Lesley and she him (seen by a slave in the bushes). The finished portrait shocks old ladies and causes Lesley to give her patented laugh when it's suggested perhaps Michael might fancy her. On the night before he leaves, he finally confesses his love for her, speaking of her in the third person, as someone who "is already married to a great plantation, to a way of life." She admits, in the third person, that she feels the same way.
The slave who saw Lesley and Michael kissing (who is Paul Shenar's son, by the way), follows her into the woods. When she doesn't return home, the whole plantation goes looking for her. Loyal slave Franklyn Seale finds her, her clothes torn, having been raped. Franklyn, who has adored Lesley his whole life, shoots the rapist point blank. Lesley wants to make sure Franklyn is safe, so Dorian and Eddie prepare to send him off with a gift of money and a plan for safety. Just as it's all happening, Paul Shenar comes galloping up to the house. He demands Franklyn for a beating, but Dorian refuses. Paul tries to whip him, but Dorian catches the whip. "You're life ain't worth a torn hamstring off this plantation," Paul snarls. Huh? Is that something that would have really been said in the antebellum South, or did the writer just come from the gym? With every appearance, Paul becomes more a villain, which means his downfall will be extra fun (though we have a looooooong way to go before then).
Welcome in 1853. Meredith's daughter has grown up to become brazen flirt Laurie Prange, lusting after young lawyer Jonathan Frakes, Don Johnson's nephew. Lesley has to tell Don's mother Allyn Ann McLerie that Don has been killed. "He was not nice...been lost to us all these years," she says rather distantly about her son. The story is that Don had "gold madness," played cards for the gold, was accused of cheating and was shot.
The news of Don's death has Paul Rudd rushing to the bottom of a bottle and, as always when he's drunk, he comes upon Jenny, also drunk and looking haggard (given bad make-up, fake teeth, etc.--this is high budget!). "Bring me a bottle every now and then, won't you love? For auld lange syne," Jenny requests.
Bad penny Meredith shows up with more tall tales, though they make Lesley laugh. "Three times a wife and never having been married at all?" Lesley asks, only half scandalized. Only after a few glasses of wine, does Meredith ask about her daughter, whom she hasn't seen in 17 years. Things get heated when Meredith wants to reclaim her daughter, now that all the hard work has been done, but Lesley hisses, "she is my child...she considers me to be her real mother!" "You are welcome to stay here on one condition, you do not shock [Laurie] with any great revelations of the past," Mistress Lesley decrees. As ludicrous as Meredith is, once again, it's Lesley who manages to ground both her bad acting and the inane dialogue with her surefooted work.
Meredith can't wait to claim her daughter, but Laurie, who gives a performance that suggests serious brain damage, knows the truth, but considers Lesley her mother. Apparently Madeleine long ago spilled the beans (she hasn't been seen in hours, remember Madeleine?). "You and Mama are the same blood, but you couldn't accommodate me and she could," is how Laurie has chosen to deal with the truth. This leaves Meredith nostrils flaring, still a decade and change away from Betty Broderick.
It's 1860 and war is on everyone's mind. Young Grand Bush tells Dorian he's excited for the Union Army to free the slaves, but Dorian isn't convinced freedom will ever really make a difference. Just in case there is a war, Paul Rudd has enlisted, but the army told him to stay home; he's too old. "If there's a way, it will be a short one," he notes, wrong as always. Madeleine (seen for a flash) and Jean are teaching all of the plantation kids to march and Eddie Albert is STILL kicking, able to sit outside in a wheelchair. It's to him Lesley delivers the news that Michael Sarrazin is back in the South. "Shouldn't I feel guilty?" Lesley asks him. Not at all, Eddie says, because Paul steps out on her every chance he gets. Eddie actively pushes Lesley into meeting the man she obviously loves, tell her, and I'm sure this will gross you out as much as it did me, that even he himself has "tasted the sweet peach of sex" with women other than his wife. In fact, cheating saved his marriage! It's the Southern way. "Justifiable skulduggery," he calls it, laughing.
So, Lesley goes to Atlanta to rekindle the sparks with Michael. Both of them sport full 80s make-up, despite the 1860s fashions. Without a work spoken, they fall into an embrace and kiss passionately. And more, apparently, since we next see them in bed naked. Then comes the expected montage of "things lovers do," include wine, room service and gazebos. The montage is more welcome than Michael's yawningly bad acting. "There's a war coming," he reads from the page. "And you're a Yankee. How could this have happened to us?" she replies (does she want the biological or geographical answer).
"Do you realize you and I are recognizing the end of a way of life?" Paul asks Dorian? "I reckon so. Is that bad or good?" Dorian replies.
While the rest of the cast is rolling bandages, Dorian comes in with the news that war has been declared. Some are worried, some are excited. Paul Shenar, whose mutton chop whiskers are now gray, pays a visit to Paul Rudd. He's "come to finish it." Paul Shenar acknowledges his bastard sons, though he does it with a nefarious glee and with epithets. Oh, and also, Lesley and Michael were seen having sex. Paul Rudd whips out a pistol, shoots Paul Shenar and then himself. Well, it does leave Lesley a free widow, I suppose, the most gracious act he's committed for her.
We skip most of the war, heading right to 1864. That's mighty peculiar for a miniseries, or would be, as they grew more and more expansive. We haven't seen so much as a stock footage battle scene to concentrate solely on the story. Allyn Ann gives us the speech of "what happened to our people?" that we fully expected someone to give. She wonders if perhaps Meredith didn't have the right idea, escaping the South. Not so, Lesley remarks, because just that day she's had word that Meredith was booed off the stage in Philadelphia, accused of being a Southern spy and is on her way back. "Heaven help the Confederacy," Ally Ann quips.
The citizens of Atlanta are fleeing since Sherman's army is only five miles away. I suppose this is our big set piece, our connection to the war that we've so far been missing. In the confusion, we spot Meredith, entering the city rather than leaving. She even gets to play witness to a massive array of bodies laid out, just like in "Gone With the Wind." Heaven forbid we miss that yet again in American film. She witnesses the worst of the war horrors. She's the wrong character to be going through this, but she is roped accidentally into nursing during an amputation. Actually, she takes to it and soon finds wounded Jonathan Frakes, apparently blind. He tells her Eddie and Martha are dead, but as far as he knows, everyone else is fine. The doctor tells Meredith that Jonathan will never regain his sight, a dire situation because the Yankees are about to cut off Atlanta and any chance they have of mending the wounded. Meredith decides she and Jonathan have to get home somehow.
Meanwhile, Laurie ss suffering from fever, wondering why Jonathan hasn't written in so long. She believes she hears a carriage and gets out of bed, with Allyn Ann fighting to keep her in it. They both go tumbling over the railing to their deaths two stories below, the swiftest character deaths in the movie. Meredith and Jonathan walk with the rest of the citizens of Atlanta, past burning buildings they don't even notice anymore. They narrowly avoid being taken by Union soldiers. "We're goin' home, nothing's gonna stop us," Meredith promises him. In a moment made for drama, Meredith pretends to be pregnant so a passing carriage will take her and Jonathan. It's a bit much. However, they do arrive at Beulah Land, spotting hunched-over Clarice (how the hell old is she by now?). Part 2 ends with this happy family reunion.
Dorian is to be married, but promises he'll stay at Beulah Land and Clarice, still alive, gets her scenery-chewing moment when Lesley comes to visit the ancient woman and bring her squirrel soup, the best that she can do under the trying circumstances. When the Union soldiers show up at Beulah Land, they are commanded by none other than Michael Sarrazin, who is as deadpan and virtually dead as ever. Lesley is furious, but Michael says he's trying to protect her "from worse." The soldiers pick Beulah Land pretty much to the bone, though Michael promised they would leave enough for Lesley and company. Dorian takes all the valuables from Beulah Land to safety, including the portrait of Lesley that Michael had done. Why would anyone want to steal that?
A scary band of Union soldiers passes by Beulah Land, but does stop at Jonathan's plantation. They accuse the family members of treason because of an incident in town where Ilene had provoked their ire. They kill the remaining horse there and tie up Jonathan's son and father, but not him because he's blind. Jonathan tries to swing at a soldier, but misses and is shot. From Beulah Land, everyone can see the smoke that says the other plantation is no more. The soldiers circle back to Beulah Land and accuse Lesley of treason, saying that the whole family is a "secret rebel force just waiting to knock off a Yankee." The soldiers destroy everything they can find, a real old fashioned raping and pillaging expedition. The leader even rapes a pregnant woman! This is actually a very terrifying sequence, unabashedly violent without an attempt to make the Yankees at all sympathetic. They kill Clarice and then burn the big house. Lesley does her best to attack, but the leader takes her wedding ring (tossing aside the horseshoe ring Dorian gave her when he was a child for her to find the next morning in the grass) and the soldiers finally depart.
Having paid the Union army to do it, one of Paul Shenar's sons is delighted to hear Beulah Land has been sacked. Dorian pledges to kill those responsible and Jonathan's young son wants to go with him. Lesley refuses, but he goes anyway. Since the soldiers killed his father and grandfather, he says, "I am a man!" Dorian has no choice but to take him since the kid refuses to return home. It's the bad Yankee soldier that finds Dorian first, so Dorian puts on an act and pretends absolute stupidity. It works. The soldier trusts him and is even willing to sleep with Dorian there. The kid shows up and Dorian is able to grab the soldier's gun. The soldier claims everything was all "a misunderstanding," ransacking his father's grave, killing his mother, raping his wife, burning his house, etc. Ultimately, of course, Dorian and the kid have to kill the soldier, which is no loss to humanity.
Dorian and the kid return to Beulah Land with all of the soldier's plunder, some horses and even Lesley's wedding ring. Ilene, whose firebrand talk caused all the trouble and when she shows up at Beulah Land, Lesley attacks her, blaming and slapping her. "I have not forgiven you and I never will," Lesley howls. Michael shows up, alone, with the news that Lee has surrendered and the war is over. He offers any help, but Lesley refuses his offer, saying "Beulah Land was built without any help from enemies and it will be so again."
Another seven years fly by, and now Lesley's grandson is fully grown (and blond, where he was completely dark-haired as a child). He's at the dock with his grandmother, awaiting the return of Franklyn, now that's it's safe for him to return. Grandson Patrick Harrison is goaded into hitting a man in a bar after a series of insults, all with the sheriff watching. Franklyn's half brother Peter De Anda, who had paid the Union army to destroy Beulah Land, proof of the few blacks who have been able to make money since the war, though dependent on white backing. Franklyn is happy to see Beulah Land again, now rebuilt to look just like it did before (literally).
Outside church, a wagon rumbles into view with Dorian's dead body in it. Lesley is so hysterical, they have to give her chloroform. At the funeral, Lesley takes Dorian's young son aside and delivers a teary speech, one of many she's had to give, and all convincingly.
The young generation is pretty damn uninteresting. Peter's son sees him going into the shack of a field worker and when he tells his mother, she grabs and ax kills him and the woman. Patrick has land of his own and is sweet on a girl whose parents do not approve of him. She brings the news of the murder to Patrick, who says, "we have no enemies living next to us" since Peter's son is friendly to the whole family. He proposes, she accepts. Actually, he asks her if she'll "live there," but the rest is implied.
Franklyn has opened a school, and there is trouble brewing from whites who aren't happy about it. Meredith brings that happy news, as well as the fact that Michael has painted her portrait. Lesley pretends not to be interested, but Meredith says he's already on his way to do portraits of her and the other school board of trustees. Meredith wants Lesley to forget the past. "Does Beulah Land kiss you goodnight?" she roars at her sister, but white brigands, sheriff in tow, start firing shots at the approaching students. At that moment, Michael shows up with "the new federal Marshall," as well as a camera. The sheriff and his men lose this battle and everyone is allowed into school, whites and blacks together. This act of courage and fairness reminds Lesley that she loves him. She asks him to stay. "Beulah Land needs you. I need you," she says. Thankfully, she remembered herself because if I had to hear Beulah Land, Beulah Land, Beulah Land one more time, I'm not sure my television would have survived the beating.
There's nothing terribly wrong with "Beulah Land," but there's also nothing overwhelmingly right either. A combination of two books, it has way too many characters and plot lines for a small-ish miniseries. Some industrious chopping by the writers before it started filming would have helped. In the end, it's the story of a brave woman facing adversity, as are so many stories like this, and thus we're lucky to have Lesley Ann Warren taking charge because she does it all beautifully.
Even with the ellipses, it sounds familiar, right? "Gone With the Wind," no? No. "Scarlett?" No, we've done that, remember? "North and South?" Oh, come on! That's not a female-focused story!
Nope, this would be "Beulah Land," a decade and a half before "Scarlett," (giddy where "Scarlett" is maddening). But, it might as well be "Gone With the Wind," because it's virtually the same story. Countless Civil War tales of vibrant heroines followed Margaret Mitchell's, and we know that the miniseries adores Civil War fables. "Beulah Land" is actually on the early side of miniseries history, right on the heels of "Roots," so this story wasn't as tired and familiar to TV audiences as it would be by the time "Scarlett" came around to wrap up the genre. However, it's also not nearly as decorous or well-written as "North and South," which really did define Civil War miniseries (from the white point-of-view).
Lesley Ann Warren, who did valiant work in a slew of miniseries, is the Scarlett stand-in here, though her character is a smart and much-loved woman. Curious that she would take the part, less than a decade after having actually playing Miss O'Hara herself in a musical version of "Gone With the Wind," which closed on the road to a planned Broadway production. But, the handful of audiences who saw her in that barely matter compared to the viewership of even the most forgotten of miniseries.
"Beulah Land" really has the potential to be riotously funny, but other than some very wrong performances, it's actually nothing more than predictable. The plot twists are obvious and it could have been done in less time, but it's also not terrible. In 1980, the genre was young and fresh and even a much-told chestnut like "Beulah Land" keeps on the right side of the quality line, especially with Lesley Ann Warren giving a fantastic performance.
Everything looks mighty content with the slaves in the cotton fields. Riding through the fields are Aunt Martha Scott and her two young nieces, who don't realize this is all part of the majestic plantation, Beulah Land (which does not, I'm afraid, seem to have a theme song of its own like Tara). The super-friendly black coach driver explains the history of Beulah Land ("it's from the Book of Isaiah") and even grins when asked if the head honcho is a "good master," though managing to give an evasive answer.
The so-called master is actually a kid, young Todd Lookinland, who is out in the fields being mischievous. Dedicated house slave Clarice Taylor (an awfully lively take on the "Mammy" character) and his mother Hope Lange are obviously fed up with him, and he's not there to greet the arriving kinfolks on this fine 1827 day. The coach driver fetches Todd, who is greeting in the foyer by a big slap from his mother. "You knew company was comin', but you deliberately ran off," Hope snarls.
Equally nasty, but far scarier, is overseer Paul Shenar, who wants to beat young Todd's slave friend, though stopped from doing so. Pissed that he has no one to whip, Paul hisses, "this black snake is thirsty, boy, better stay out of his way," referring to his whip, though it took me two tries to figure that one out. He flicks it for good measure.
Now, Aunt Martha showed up with two young nieces, one blonde and loving every minute of being a Southerner (thrilled to go when invited to see where they hang the slaves at Beulah Land) and one brunette, a quiet sweet type (the opposite of the sisters in "North and South," where Genie Francis was so sweet it hurt and Teri Garber was so nasty it tickled). The little brunette is so adorable that she helps Todd get a plate of food, brought to him by his slave friend, who claims, "any food you got, we got too." Since when? The little brunette even wanders through the Bible to find the reference to Beulah Land. No one doubted it, but the little blonde cracks, "that sounds foolish" because it sounds too idyllic. Directly after that, she's horrified to see the overseer whipping a slave, though Hope and Martha can't understand her frustration. Martha and nieces finish their visit with only Todd sorry to see them go. He's taken a shine to the little brunette.
Let's jump ahead seven years and get rid of the pesky kids. The little brunette has become Lesley Ann Warren, everyone's darling. Madeleine Stowe is as sullen as ever as Hope's daughter (she's only happy hanging out in the kitchen with Clarice's daughter, Jean Foster), though handsome Don Johnson (yup, Don Johnson, temporarily antebellum before pastel sport coats overwhelmed his career) tries to be nice to her. And the master is more grown up, a very perky blond Paul Rudd (not the Paul Rudd you think, just an actor with the same name).
What do all pre-war young men of stature do before the horrors will either kill them or turn them earnest? They get drunk in town, just like Don and Paul, who overdo their accents, stumble and tell crass stories. Don confesses he wants to get busy with someone. "Now you know what they say, pedigree or not, they all lay eggs," he notes, before revealing it's Lesley Ann's blonde sister he worships. "She's be mighty good for what ails you," Don notes, but Paul wonders about Lesley Ann. "She's an angel, she's gonna be a virgin 'til she's..." Uh oh, he realizes that Paul actually fancies Lesley Ann. Well, he had a confession to make himself. Though he's all talk about women, it's Madeleine he really loves, though Lord knows why, she's so damn miserable. Paul is thrilled that they might be brothers-in-law. They cackle and continue their drunken revelry.
Paul Shenar visits a house of ill repute, where he wants only Jenny Agutter, though the other gals can't understand why. "Every time you come for [Jenny], you have to wait," one says. Well, I guess popularity is a good thing in their trade. Actually not. Paul is very jealous of any man who spends time with his beloved British tart. "Waiting is waiting," he snarls. "And work is work," she replies, "but play is play" and leans down to kiss him. "When you and I go upstairs, people know better than to wait," she laughs as they head up for some privacy.
Approaching Hope bravely, Don asks for Madeleine's hand in marriage. Clarice praises the heavens. Hope asks if it's actually true, and Madeleine actually seems happy to admit it is, though when she looks at Jean, the latter is staring daggers. Hmmm, exactly what has been going on between these two since Madeleine was a girl and crashes the all-black hoe-downs to dance with her slave friend?
Rushing through the woods in a carriage with Jenny, Paul Shenar is stopped by one of the local landowners who needs to borrow money. The guarantee behind it is his land. Paul tells Jenny he intends to own so much land that it will make even the owners of Beulah Land quake. Villains are never subtle in these pieces, but in under 30 minutes, we've seen Paul Shenar commit pretty much all of the seven deadly sins. Of course, we know how he'll ultimately end up, but hopefully he'll be mean old fun until the inevitable. The next day, Jenny is introduced to Hope and her frizzy-haired son Paul, whom of course she knows as "Mr. Jones of Charleston," aka a frequent visitor to the whorehouse. "You're not going to tattle on me?" she coyly asks. "Not if you don't tattle on me," he replies with a toothy smile.
Lesley's blonde sister has grown up into Meredith Baxter (with Birney here), a braying brat. In order to get Lesley's attention through the wall, she goes into a howling routine, and of course Lesley falls for it. The reason is to inform her that she's fallen in love with an actor whose company is leaving town. Next morning, when Aunt Martha Scott hits the floor with a scream, a slave merely clucks, "she fainted again?" but Lesley sees the note in her hand: yup, Meredith has eloped with the actor. Aunt Martha cries the entire way to Beulah Land, having missed Don and Madeleine's wedding.
Don is also missing Don and Madeleine's wedding, so drunk that he not only knocks over furniture, but rips Madeleine's dress as she recoils in horror. "You gonna take them clothes off or am I gonna have to take them off for you?" he asks her as she realizes she apparently made a mistake marrying him (let's get together a big chorus of "I told you so" for when Jean finds out). Madeleine tries to resist Don's advances, but he slaps her down to the bed, telling her, "you can scream, but ain't nobody going to get involved in this private matter" and rapes her.
A friend to all slaves, because she's so gleefully angelic, Lesley is trotting through the woods with one slave while waving hellos as another (Dorian Harewood is the grown-up version of Paul Rudd's childhood friend), when they come across that other great-friend-to-the-slaves, Madeleine, bloody and nearly passed out. She's taken to the slave quarters where Hope is summoned. "Did you refuse to consummate your marriage?" Hope asks coldly. "You have humiliated me," she adds, puts on her iciest face and walks out as quickly as she came in. Egad, that is one bitch of a mother!
"Mother's not someone you love or hate. She's someone you accept or hate," Paul Rudd tells Lesley as they poke along through the woods on horses. She was a bit aghast at Hope's reaction to her daughter's beating. This worries Lesley because she's crushing on Paul. "I wonder if she really likes me or just approves of me," she wonders aloud with a flirty smile. "With mother, I think they are the same thing," he reassures her. Stay away from the crazies, Lesley!!!!! Oh, and if Hope isn't scary enough, overseer Paul Shenar and his ex-hooker wife also look at her funny whenever she's around. Only Dorian Harewood treats her nicely, forging a ring for her in his capacity as blacksmith. He's doing his best to get Paul Rudd to propose to her.
When Don shows up to claim Madeleine, still looking like a drunk devil, Clarice meets him at the door and gives him the strangest pep talk in miniseries history, claiming he can't see her because she and the others need time to talk to her and get her to realize her wifely duties. What the hell goes on at Beulah Land? Is it Stepford 150 years too early? "You tell her I'm coming back here to take her home," Don insists. Clarice then catches her daughter Jean running around the house with a gigantic knife, saying, "I'm not going to let him hurt her again, Mama." Clarice wrestles the knife from her and Jean goes to visit Madeleine, finding her catatonic in bed. She actually responds to Jean, holding out a hand for her.
"Marry me. I and Beulah Land need you," Paul Rudd uses as a marriage proposal because Lesley is set to depart. These two are so happy and chaste, they have never even exchanged cheek pecs, but she agrees and they couldn't be more excited. Before we know it (literally, the next scene), Paul Rudd is hung over from his bachelor party, going to Dorian's hovel to first complain of his physical state, then his excitement and then his nerves. Unfortunately, he and Dorian can't be friends like they used to be, and Dorian is rather unpleasant to him about it.
Everyone is invited to the wedding. Don's parents tell him to behave and not make a fuss, even if Madeleine does not put in an appearance. The slaves are all decked out in ridiculous livery for the occasion. Only the Paul Shenars are missing because they are in a huff having not been invited to all the festivities, only the ceremony. Madeleine and Jean watch from a window, upsetting Don, who misses his cue as ring-bearer. Paul slips on the new wedding ring as well as the one Dorian made, though he's had that dipped in gold. "I know that Beulah Lane is going to be in good hands," an uncharacteristically chipper Hope tells brother-in-law Eddie Albert and Governor Peter Hobbs. Only the kitchen slaves seem to be upset, and then just a few of the women who know they can never enjoy such a lovely day and wedding of their own.
Governor Peter Hobbs chastises Hope for teaching her slaves to read, and she replies that it's actually a good thing, because "they never run away." He's only worried about his re-election and how this could affect it. Frankly, I don't see the connection. "Let's just hope we don't have another Nat Turner on our hands," he mutters to her. Don pounds on Madeleine's door as the guests are leaving and demands she return home with him. Jean opens the door, points a gun at Don and tells him, "go away and never come back!" As you can expect, he does not react well, shouting until his father slaps him across the face.
Lesley takes to her role as mistress of Beulah Lane like gangbusters as we jump ahead a year. She summons Paul Shenar and rails at him for whipping a slave. "I sent word to you that I do not approve of whippin'," she tells him, but he replies, "but you did not forbid it." She officially forbids it. He pulls out one of the hoariest excuses of all slave ownership and most overused line in moviedom about it, noting, "slaves are like children. They must be punished or discipline will be destroy." All whippings must be approved by her or her husband. Furthermore, she wants him to stop pulling "my slaves" out of school. By the way, the school is taught by Madeleine and Jean.
Lesley is not thrilled when she learns that Franklyn's father is her husband. "It happens all the time," Madeleine and Jean tell her, that plantation owners "have their way" with slaves whenever they want. In a rage, she confronts her gun-cleaning husband about it, and he tells her the true story and then snaps, "a Southern lady should NEVER mention such matters to her husband!" Hope, who is obviously dying, tells Lesley she had to treat her son with cruelty over the matter because "the only thing that matters is to keep Beulah Land thriving." Thank you, Gerald O'Hara. Lesley finally admits her unabashed love for Beulah Land.
Two years later, Paul Shenar, having trouble with Dorian Harewood, comes to discuss "the North Field." Lesley has given "specific instructions" on how that field was supposed to be handled, so the surprise of her dippy husband, who clearly doesn't care, and now Paul Shenar wants to reprimand Dorian for following Lesley's orders. Naturally, Lesley puts the kibosh on it, so Paul Shenar retorts, "I do hope your mother is doing better these days," as a swipe at Lesley. "Don't you think I know who's running Beulah Land? Every time I try to be the master, I end up being the fool!" Paul Rudd yells at Lesley in frustration.
Paul Rudd flits off to see his sister-in-law Meredith, who is in town with the theater company. They flirt hot and heavy from the onset, and since she's tarted up, TV-speak for "I'm ready to have sex," they are kissing in the middle of sentences and thus an affair begins. And wouldn't you know (of course you do, because we know how plot twists occur in pairs in these things), that's the very night Hope picks to die. When Lesley tells Madeleine, hiding in her room with Jean, Madeleine tells Lesley to plan the funeral.
Eddie Albert gives everyone the news Hope's will decrees the lead slaves (though four with speaking parts) have been freed, but Jean reacts angrily since it's technically "illegal in the state of Georgia" and they "can't use the papers unless we leave the state." "You may not want them now, but someday they may be very valuable to you," Eddie cautions. He must know the Civil War is fast approaching.
Looking even more tarted up, Meredith pays a visit to Beulah Land. "Actors don't usually come home unless they're hungry," Don Johnson's smart-ass mother wryly adds. This is going to be uncomfortable for Paul Rudd! Meredith is pregnant, allowing Lesley to think the baby belongs to her actor husband, who abandoned her long before Paul arrived in her life and knocked her up. "It's so great to be home," Meredith keeps cooing, though Beulah Land has never been her home. Details, details. Oh, and she flirts shamelessly with her old flame Don.
Meredith turns out to be a first class bitch. "Of course it's yours!" she yells at Paul when he asks if it's his baby. And what does she want? "To be treated as a first class lady...after all, it's me who is giving you a child," a nasty swipe at her sister, who has yet to become a mother. After he leaves Meredith, who is actually cackling, he gets drunk and ends up riding past Jenny's house, where she's lonely, though okay with that since "the more he [Paul Shenar] beats on them [slave women], the less he beats on me." He declines her offer of sex (for now) and stumbles home drunk where he insults Dorian. Lesley tells him he can't keep getting drunk because "Beulah Land needs you." "You're Beulah Land," he slurs and crumples to the floor. More Melanie than Scarlett, she cradles him with only sweetness in her demeanor.
Dorian fixes a parlor table with a metal piece and when they look under the table to wonder at it, their hands touch. Just as they are realizing the attraction we've long seen, Clarice sees it too and calls everyone out to see one of the slaves breastfeeding absentee Meredith's baby with her own, "just like I done" with Paul Rudd and Dorian. Dorian leaves Beulah Land because of his attraction. Paul Shenar wants to go after Dorian because he stole a horse, but Eddie Albert arrives just in time to say he gave him the horse, defended by Lesley, who said as uncle to her husband, he had every right to do so. To Dorian's parents, she says, "be proud. He must have had a good reason or he never would have left us. He's a good man!" without a trace of irony or self-awareness. More "God bless yous" are exchanged than fist bumps after dessert at Hooters.
In the middle of the night, Lesley catches Meredith fleeing, suitcases in hand, to start a life with Don Johnson. They argue and Lesley asks how she can leave the child, which she admits is Paul's. "I give her to you," Meredith coldly announces and Lesley demands she leave. She runs into the bedroom and starts beating her husband for his women. He weakly apologizes, but she and the music are way too angry! The only thing that calms her down is the baby, which she can now raise as her own. "You're gonna have a mama now, a real mama," she tells the baby as the score changes to triumphant and determined. That's as good a place as any to end the first installment.
We pick up the story in 1838. Paul Shenar and his wife Jenny now own land and are two years gone from Beulah Land. Paul is thrilled because the family he so detested has fallen on hard times and needs money. "I am gonna be the master of Beulah Land before this is over," Paul declares to his wife. Paul Shenar wants to buy five slaves to help with the cash flow, but Lesley would never sell slaves because she doesn't see them like that. "Slaves don't care who owns them," Paul Shenar tells her. She's indignant, refusing to sell slaves to a man she knows will beat them. "We will not sell, but if we are ever forced to sell, we will not sell to you," she vows.
Cue the warehouse fire. Yes, that's where all the cotton is stored, so this will bankrupt them for sure. There's always a warehouse fire in these stories. Lesley knows Paul Shenar did it, but "we can never prove it." Meanwhile, manning the water brigade, Eddie Albert has a stroke (don't worry, he'll live to mug another day). Paul Shenar returns with an offer to buy Beulah Land, but Lesley once again refuses, steely as ever when it comes to this slimeball, who gets in a dig as he leaves that "I thought [Paul Rudd] was the master of Beulah Land." He tells Lesley, "we have to swallow our pride," accepting responsibility for the "change in our fortunes," but Lesley is adamant they not sell to the former overseer. "We're gonna pray for a miracle and we're gonna find a way!" Lesley rages, just as Aunt Martha Scott arrives for her annual visit. Deux ex machina-in-petticoats, she gives them a check to cover all the money owed on Beulah Land. "I hope it helps," she says sweetly.
Also back at Beulah Land is an obviously successful Dorian, who of course sports a mustache as proof of his success. His parents are overjoyed, though dad takes his hammy time getting there. Paul and Lesley are happy too, though Dorian tells them he's learned, "being a colored man, saying you're free and being free are two different things." They ignore that comment. Paul invites Dorian to be the overseer, the first black man ever, so they will call him "foreman." With everything but the bugles, the three decide to "get Beulah Land back on its feet!"
1846 sweeps in with the speed of a title card. Dorian's father has died, though there is only a ramshackle headstone to note it, where Dorian finds her, rather than at her big fancy party. A portrait painter, Michael Sarrazin, has come to Beulah Land. He first painted Madeleine and Jean, looking like perfectly miserable lesbians in the picture, which means they must be quite happy together. Michael is a smooth one. Unable to get Lesley to sit still long enough to be painted, he tells her "the challenge will be not only to portray you, but also your devotion to the land." Oh, for crying out loud! Naturally, there is an attraction between them.
Once she finally does sit, Lesley and Michael discuss abolition, morality, the history of slavery, etc., all the boring stuff that needs to be said to make this educational as well as entertaining. Michael keeps saying the settings and dresses Lesley wears are all wrong so he can stretch out their time together and discuss politics. Lesley fills the little scenes with terrific acting, but Michael is as wooden as a stick of furniture, so it's easy to tune out. Finally, Michael kisses Lesley and she him (seen by a slave in the bushes). The finished portrait shocks old ladies and causes Lesley to give her patented laugh when it's suggested perhaps Michael might fancy her. On the night before he leaves, he finally confesses his love for her, speaking of her in the third person, as someone who "is already married to a great plantation, to a way of life." She admits, in the third person, that she feels the same way.
The slave who saw Lesley and Michael kissing (who is Paul Shenar's son, by the way), follows her into the woods. When she doesn't return home, the whole plantation goes looking for her. Loyal slave Franklyn Seale finds her, her clothes torn, having been raped. Franklyn, who has adored Lesley his whole life, shoots the rapist point blank. Lesley wants to make sure Franklyn is safe, so Dorian and Eddie prepare to send him off with a gift of money and a plan for safety. Just as it's all happening, Paul Shenar comes galloping up to the house. He demands Franklyn for a beating, but Dorian refuses. Paul tries to whip him, but Dorian catches the whip. "You're life ain't worth a torn hamstring off this plantation," Paul snarls. Huh? Is that something that would have really been said in the antebellum South, or did the writer just come from the gym? With every appearance, Paul becomes more a villain, which means his downfall will be extra fun (though we have a looooooong way to go before then).
Welcome in 1853. Meredith's daughter has grown up to become brazen flirt Laurie Prange, lusting after young lawyer Jonathan Frakes, Don Johnson's nephew. Lesley has to tell Don's mother Allyn Ann McLerie that Don has been killed. "He was not nice...been lost to us all these years," she says rather distantly about her son. The story is that Don had "gold madness," played cards for the gold, was accused of cheating and was shot.
The news of Don's death has Paul Rudd rushing to the bottom of a bottle and, as always when he's drunk, he comes upon Jenny, also drunk and looking haggard (given bad make-up, fake teeth, etc.--this is high budget!). "Bring me a bottle every now and then, won't you love? For auld lange syne," Jenny requests.
Bad penny Meredith shows up with more tall tales, though they make Lesley laugh. "Three times a wife and never having been married at all?" Lesley asks, only half scandalized. Only after a few glasses of wine, does Meredith ask about her daughter, whom she hasn't seen in 17 years. Things get heated when Meredith wants to reclaim her daughter, now that all the hard work has been done, but Lesley hisses, "she is my child...she considers me to be her real mother!" "You are welcome to stay here on one condition, you do not shock [Laurie] with any great revelations of the past," Mistress Lesley decrees. As ludicrous as Meredith is, once again, it's Lesley who manages to ground both her bad acting and the inane dialogue with her surefooted work.
Meredith can't wait to claim her daughter, but Laurie, who gives a performance that suggests serious brain damage, knows the truth, but considers Lesley her mother. Apparently Madeleine long ago spilled the beans (she hasn't been seen in hours, remember Madeleine?). "You and Mama are the same blood, but you couldn't accommodate me and she could," is how Laurie has chosen to deal with the truth. This leaves Meredith nostrils flaring, still a decade and change away from Betty Broderick.
It's 1860 and war is on everyone's mind. Young Grand Bush tells Dorian he's excited for the Union Army to free the slaves, but Dorian isn't convinced freedom will ever really make a difference. Just in case there is a war, Paul Rudd has enlisted, but the army told him to stay home; he's too old. "If there's a way, it will be a short one," he notes, wrong as always. Madeleine (seen for a flash) and Jean are teaching all of the plantation kids to march and Eddie Albert is STILL kicking, able to sit outside in a wheelchair. It's to him Lesley delivers the news that Michael Sarrazin is back in the South. "Shouldn't I feel guilty?" Lesley asks him. Not at all, Eddie says, because Paul steps out on her every chance he gets. Eddie actively pushes Lesley into meeting the man she obviously loves, tell her, and I'm sure this will gross you out as much as it did me, that even he himself has "tasted the sweet peach of sex" with women other than his wife. In fact, cheating saved his marriage! It's the Southern way. "Justifiable skulduggery," he calls it, laughing.
So, Lesley goes to Atlanta to rekindle the sparks with Michael. Both of them sport full 80s make-up, despite the 1860s fashions. Without a work spoken, they fall into an embrace and kiss passionately. And more, apparently, since we next see them in bed naked. Then comes the expected montage of "things lovers do," include wine, room service and gazebos. The montage is more welcome than Michael's yawningly bad acting. "There's a war coming," he reads from the page. "And you're a Yankee. How could this have happened to us?" she replies (does she want the biological or geographical answer).
"Do you realize you and I are recognizing the end of a way of life?" Paul asks Dorian? "I reckon so. Is that bad or good?" Dorian replies.
While the rest of the cast is rolling bandages, Dorian comes in with the news that war has been declared. Some are worried, some are excited. Paul Shenar, whose mutton chop whiskers are now gray, pays a visit to Paul Rudd. He's "come to finish it." Paul Shenar acknowledges his bastard sons, though he does it with a nefarious glee and with epithets. Oh, and also, Lesley and Michael were seen having sex. Paul Rudd whips out a pistol, shoots Paul Shenar and then himself. Well, it does leave Lesley a free widow, I suppose, the most gracious act he's committed for her.
We skip most of the war, heading right to 1864. That's mighty peculiar for a miniseries, or would be, as they grew more and more expansive. We haven't seen so much as a stock footage battle scene to concentrate solely on the story. Allyn Ann gives us the speech of "what happened to our people?" that we fully expected someone to give. She wonders if perhaps Meredith didn't have the right idea, escaping the South. Not so, Lesley remarks, because just that day she's had word that Meredith was booed off the stage in Philadelphia, accused of being a Southern spy and is on her way back. "Heaven help the Confederacy," Ally Ann quips.
The citizens of Atlanta are fleeing since Sherman's army is only five miles away. I suppose this is our big set piece, our connection to the war that we've so far been missing. In the confusion, we spot Meredith, entering the city rather than leaving. She even gets to play witness to a massive array of bodies laid out, just like in "Gone With the Wind." Heaven forbid we miss that yet again in American film. She witnesses the worst of the war horrors. She's the wrong character to be going through this, but she is roped accidentally into nursing during an amputation. Actually, she takes to it and soon finds wounded Jonathan Frakes, apparently blind. He tells her Eddie and Martha are dead, but as far as he knows, everyone else is fine. The doctor tells Meredith that Jonathan will never regain his sight, a dire situation because the Yankees are about to cut off Atlanta and any chance they have of mending the wounded. Meredith decides she and Jonathan have to get home somehow.
Meanwhile, Laurie ss suffering from fever, wondering why Jonathan hasn't written in so long. She believes she hears a carriage and gets out of bed, with Allyn Ann fighting to keep her in it. They both go tumbling over the railing to their deaths two stories below, the swiftest character deaths in the movie. Meredith and Jonathan walk with the rest of the citizens of Atlanta, past burning buildings they don't even notice anymore. They narrowly avoid being taken by Union soldiers. "We're goin' home, nothing's gonna stop us," Meredith promises him. In a moment made for drama, Meredith pretends to be pregnant so a passing carriage will take her and Jonathan. It's a bit much. However, they do arrive at Beulah Land, spotting hunched-over Clarice (how the hell old is she by now?). Part 2 ends with this happy family reunion.
Dorian is to be married, but promises he'll stay at Beulah Land and Clarice, still alive, gets her scenery-chewing moment when Lesley comes to visit the ancient woman and bring her squirrel soup, the best that she can do under the trying circumstances. When the Union soldiers show up at Beulah Land, they are commanded by none other than Michael Sarrazin, who is as deadpan and virtually dead as ever. Lesley is furious, but Michael says he's trying to protect her "from worse." The soldiers pick Beulah Land pretty much to the bone, though Michael promised they would leave enough for Lesley and company. Dorian takes all the valuables from Beulah Land to safety, including the portrait of Lesley that Michael had done. Why would anyone want to steal that?
A scary band of Union soldiers passes by Beulah Land, but does stop at Jonathan's plantation. They accuse the family members of treason because of an incident in town where Ilene had provoked their ire. They kill the remaining horse there and tie up Jonathan's son and father, but not him because he's blind. Jonathan tries to swing at a soldier, but misses and is shot. From Beulah Land, everyone can see the smoke that says the other plantation is no more. The soldiers circle back to Beulah Land and accuse Lesley of treason, saying that the whole family is a "secret rebel force just waiting to knock off a Yankee." The soldiers destroy everything they can find, a real old fashioned raping and pillaging expedition. The leader even rapes a pregnant woman! This is actually a very terrifying sequence, unabashedly violent without an attempt to make the Yankees at all sympathetic. They kill Clarice and then burn the big house. Lesley does her best to attack, but the leader takes her wedding ring (tossing aside the horseshoe ring Dorian gave her when he was a child for her to find the next morning in the grass) and the soldiers finally depart.
Having paid the Union army to do it, one of Paul Shenar's sons is delighted to hear Beulah Land has been sacked. Dorian pledges to kill those responsible and Jonathan's young son wants to go with him. Lesley refuses, but he goes anyway. Since the soldiers killed his father and grandfather, he says, "I am a man!" Dorian has no choice but to take him since the kid refuses to return home. It's the bad Yankee soldier that finds Dorian first, so Dorian puts on an act and pretends absolute stupidity. It works. The soldier trusts him and is even willing to sleep with Dorian there. The kid shows up and Dorian is able to grab the soldier's gun. The soldier claims everything was all "a misunderstanding," ransacking his father's grave, killing his mother, raping his wife, burning his house, etc. Ultimately, of course, Dorian and the kid have to kill the soldier, which is no loss to humanity.
Dorian and the kid return to Beulah Land with all of the soldier's plunder, some horses and even Lesley's wedding ring. Ilene, whose firebrand talk caused all the trouble and when she shows up at Beulah Land, Lesley attacks her, blaming and slapping her. "I have not forgiven you and I never will," Lesley howls. Michael shows up, alone, with the news that Lee has surrendered and the war is over. He offers any help, but Lesley refuses his offer, saying "Beulah Land was built without any help from enemies and it will be so again."
Another seven years fly by, and now Lesley's grandson is fully grown (and blond, where he was completely dark-haired as a child). He's at the dock with his grandmother, awaiting the return of Franklyn, now that's it's safe for him to return. Grandson Patrick Harrison is goaded into hitting a man in a bar after a series of insults, all with the sheriff watching. Franklyn's half brother Peter De Anda, who had paid the Union army to destroy Beulah Land, proof of the few blacks who have been able to make money since the war, though dependent on white backing. Franklyn is happy to see Beulah Land again, now rebuilt to look just like it did before (literally).
Outside church, a wagon rumbles into view with Dorian's dead body in it. Lesley is so hysterical, they have to give her chloroform. At the funeral, Lesley takes Dorian's young son aside and delivers a teary speech, one of many she's had to give, and all convincingly.
The young generation is pretty damn uninteresting. Peter's son sees him going into the shack of a field worker and when he tells his mother, she grabs and ax kills him and the woman. Patrick has land of his own and is sweet on a girl whose parents do not approve of him. She brings the news of the murder to Patrick, who says, "we have no enemies living next to us" since Peter's son is friendly to the whole family. He proposes, she accepts. Actually, he asks her if she'll "live there," but the rest is implied.
Franklyn has opened a school, and there is trouble brewing from whites who aren't happy about it. Meredith brings that happy news, as well as the fact that Michael has painted her portrait. Lesley pretends not to be interested, but Meredith says he's already on his way to do portraits of her and the other school board of trustees. Meredith wants Lesley to forget the past. "Does Beulah Land kiss you goodnight?" she roars at her sister, but white brigands, sheriff in tow, start firing shots at the approaching students. At that moment, Michael shows up with "the new federal Marshall," as well as a camera. The sheriff and his men lose this battle and everyone is allowed into school, whites and blacks together. This act of courage and fairness reminds Lesley that she loves him. She asks him to stay. "Beulah Land needs you. I need you," she says. Thankfully, she remembered herself because if I had to hear Beulah Land, Beulah Land, Beulah Land one more time, I'm not sure my television would have survived the beating.
There's nothing terribly wrong with "Beulah Land," but there's also nothing overwhelmingly right either. A combination of two books, it has way too many characters and plot lines for a small-ish miniseries. Some industrious chopping by the writers before it started filming would have helped. In the end, it's the story of a brave woman facing adversity, as are so many stories like this, and thus we're lucky to have Lesley Ann Warren taking charge because she does it all beautifully.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
SEQUEL ALERT: Rage of Angels: The Story Continues
For the original "Rage of Angels," click here: http://mmarathon.blogspot.com/2011/05/rage-of-angels-1983.html
Who asked for the story to continue?
How fondly we remember Jaclyn Smith as Jennifer Parker, the plucky lawyer in the Sidney Sheldon trash-fest "Rage of Angels." Definitely not the best of the Sidney Sheldon miniseries, it's the strangest one from which to draw a sequel (that, like "Lace II," only takes the characters from the original). It wasn't that good a book and wasn't that good a miniseries, but, since Jaclyn Smith and Ken Howard apparently had nothing better to do, here they are, back for more. Thus, there is "Rage of Angels: The Story Continues," though the story was pretty much self-contained in the original and did not beg for a continuation.
When we last left them, just as a reminder, Jaclyn's character was leaving town forever, having been through the kidnapping of her son and a few dead bodies. Ken was in a marriage from hell, but rising up the political scene, so careful to appear happy, though his wife did try to have Jaclyn killed. There was a mob lawyer in love with her, but he's actually not back for this one (Armand Assante had "Evergreen" on his plate around the same time--he chose wisely). Really, that's all you need to know diving into the sequel. If you don't remember it, flashbacks are provided in the second scene to catch you up, but trust me, I'm faster.
Admittedly, things start off well enough. A carriage driver in Central Park is dead when his horse returns the carriage to the line, and the customer in the carriage is also dead. The murderer approaches Michael Nouri, asking who his "customer" was. "A friend," is the only reply he gets.
Jacklyn leaves court and gets into a cab, asking the driver to turn up the news. Her former lover, Ken Howard, is the Vice President-Elect. He's still married, though now his wife is played by the always-lovable Susan Sullivan, who managed to live through the "Rich Man, Poor Man" sequel alive, and that's as dire as miniseries sequels get. For some reason, coverage of the inauguration focuses on the Vice President. For the life of me, I can't remember seeing either the outgoing or incoming Veep at an inauguration, though I'm sure they are there.
Just who is Michael Nouri? It turns out he's the brother of Armand Assante's character. His first real scene, with fellow bad guys Paul Shenar and Philip Bosco, doesn't make much sense, but it seems the dirt he has on Ken (presumably that he's the father of Jaclyn's son, whom she's pretending to raise as an orphan, much to the dismay of her nanny) is hoped to be enough to convince Ken to stop the Attorney General from getting in the way of their business dealings.
This movie has one thing the original didn't, and a big difference: Angela Lansbury! In the middle of her third career as a TV celeb, Angela had proven there was nothing she couldn't liven up. Aunt Hortense in "Lace" almost stole the movie! This time around, she's a sloshed Italian Marquesa. "Inaugurations, what a circus!" she bellows as her television only gives partial reception to the inauguration of the Vice Presi...I mean, President. La Lansbury will have no competition with her snoozy cast members. This time, there is no "almost." She will steal the movie, not that it's worth much.
Jaclyn's friend Father Mason Adams is on his way to Rome (already the miniseries is inept--wouldn't it have been better to do the scene with the jolly priest and THEN show Italy?). The way he eats, chirps the nanny, he's bound to pack on the pounds. "Do you think priests go to Rome for spiritual growth?" he asks, just a few years show of that line being shamefully embarrassing. Jaclyn sasses the priest back, saying "it's nice to have a priest around...absolves us of our sins before we commit them." Father Mason has a purpose (don't stop there, this is leading somewhere) in being at Jaclyn's. He wants her to hire Paul Roebling, a notable lawyer "who was very nearly disbarred," in Jaclyn's words. She doesn't remember when that happened to her?
The Washington balls are on television for all to see as well, and of course the cameras are centered, where else, but on the Vice President. Michael scowls watching, promising his henchman Brad Dourif some work (there's a long conversation about blackmail versus murder, cleaning up and absolutely nothing important) before going to the head shot of his dead brother on the wall, lit like a religious icon, promising revenge. Yup, that appears to be the plot.
Jaclyn is also watching the balls, but she lucks into the one millisecond of commentary NOT about the Vice President. Nope, it's about his wife, the "second lady of the land." She's said to be extremely ambitious, which Jaclyn knows all too well but can't think about in flashback because Susan Sullivan hadn't yet played the part. "The eyes of the nation" are on this couple, we are told. Boy, the President and First Lady must be exceedingly boring people if they don't even rate a camera shot or two on Inauguration Day.
Finally, we meet this couple in person, in their new digs, a mansion so big it dwarfs the White House. "If Marie Antoinette had your brains, this would be a palace, there would be no need for revolution, hypocrisy. Poverty and injustice would be irrelevant," Ken tells Susan. Do you understand what he said? I sure as hell don't. Maybe we'll come back to it later. He's actually quite bitter, going on to say how "without you" he would be this or that. "Without me, you might be a hell of a lot happier," Susan finally snaps to end that ramble. She still clings to him like they are actually in love and then launches into her version of the way things will be. "Heaven does charge. There will be no scandal, no affairs for me, no you. Therefore, old husband, you have the deal of the century...so, Mr. Vice President, here I am, the only game in town," she says, alternating between steeliness and a strange sexiness. That doesn't stop him of dreaming of Jaclyn in his sleep, with pissed-off Susan watching from the back-lit windows. "You brought her here tonight. You chose this occasion to bring her into our house...you didn't sleep with me, you slept with her, you brought a whore into the sheets!" she rails, wildly overestimating talking in one's sleep.
Unable to bear his wife's jealousy, Ken does what all politicians in trashy stories (and Nixon) do: he gets in his limo, with his security detail in tow, and goes to the Lincoln Memorial. Why? Is Ken wrestling with questions of national unity or ethical responses to slavery? Hell, Abe Lincoln was never even Vice President! Oh, wait, I sorry, it's just to call Jaclyn in private. Sorry, sorry, I jumped to a conclusion. It's been years since they last spoke, but just hearing his voice makes her cry. It just makes me snore.
Paul shows up at Jaclyn's office (so does Brad, if you care) to encounter snooty secretary Tonya Pinkins for his interview. He was a high-powered attorney who didn't show up for a summation and cost his client a case, apparently searching for his wife, "whose whereabouts are irrelevant." In miniseries terminology, that means she's going to show up at the worst possible time. When trying to sell himself to Jaclyn, he refers to himself a few times as "damaged goods," saying she can get them at a bargain or for a long time. Which how-to-interview manual did he read so we can all avoid it. "I don't think you're damaged goods, but you are a bargain," Jaclyn says with a smile and hires him. She gives him as a welcome-to-the-firm a "child molestation case," on the side of the "alleged molester." "Ugh, I want a raise," he jokes.
Ken slips up to New York City to see Jaclyn, the Secret Service hustling all of the other park patrons away so Ken can talk to Jaclyn, who still pines at the same place along the river. "I still love you," he admits. "Go home, be a loving husband and a loving father," she says, bolting off when the topic turns to their son.
At home, Nanny Pauline Flanagan introduces Jaclyn to Michael O'Hare, from the old country, looking for work. Nanny is not at all happy that Jaclyn is defending a child molester. "People like that..." she starts to say before Jaclyn cuts her off with "are people!"
Jaclyn is being wooed by Southern-accented Michael Woods to join his powerful firm. Apparently, they want "more women, more ethnic types, more non-establishment types." It's always nice to be offered a job when you are told ahead of time you are filling a quota. She declines immediately, saying "I'm doing fine." Michael suggests he could be fired for not signing up Jaclyn, but Jaclyn agrees to cover for him should his boss conta..."You laugh like a chicken."
Huh? What? Oh, the chicken line came from Michael Nouri, who sits down at their table without an invitation. Michael Woods wants to verbally tussle with him, but a cliche story about broken kneecaps scares him off. "You're Michael's brother," Jaclyn figures out somehow from just these few clues. Usually, it takes an elevator falling on her to understand her surroundings, but this time, she's smart as a tack. He wants her to "help me avenge my brother's death."
"Are you going to punish me for your brother's death?" she finally asks Michael Nouri tells her the life story of Hans Christian Andersen. Frankly, at the end of it, I was hoping he might just kill me. If this is the way he's going to talk through the whole move, then shoot me now. Michael feels that Jaclyn owes him for saving her son. She reminds him she took a bullet from his brother intended for Ken and can't have any more children. "That was your brother's legacy to me," she adds. He still claims, "you owe us."
Get this bizarre scene. Jaclyn and Paul Roebling are listening to their client tell his version of what happened when into the office, without so much as a knock, comes secretary Tony Pinkins to deliver the tickets to Washington the fancy law firm has sent her. Jaclyn and Paul start discussing the offer. Wait a minute! Your client is sitting right there! Since when would a secretary just waltz in and interrupt, and how rude of the other two to discuss their lives in front of him! "I would appreciate it if I could go home now," the client says. "Of course," Jaclyn replies, barely having remembered he was there at all. On his way out, he tells Tonya, "Isaac Stern...is on the radio tonight. I once met Mr. Stern. He was quite cordial." I know this was meant as the sad rambling of a misbegotten man, but the line could also be seen as a swipe for Tonya having barged in on his hourly-billed time with his lawyers.
The tacky 80s are in full swing at a party hosted by Michael Woods' big law firm. One of the partners is soap queen Linda Dano, wearing a sequined gown and freshly frosted hair. Oh, the party is in DC, by the way, which no doubt will be very handy for our central plot, if we ever find out exactly what it is. Linda walks by and promises to be back. "Is she always..." "No, when she's angry, government buildings close, monuments cringe," he says, but notes that one doesn't "adore" her, one "worships" her.
I called it. Plot advancement time. Into the party swoops Susan Sullivan. "See a ghost?" pal Debra Mooney asks. "Just a whore." "Ooooh, where...this place is full of whores, which one is yours?" Um, okay.
Linda is giving Jaclyn the hard sell when they inevitably have to bump into Susan. Linda gives Susan and over-the-top welcome, to which Susan replies, "I've not just come out of intensive care. I've merely come to your sweet little party." Before her bitchiness can go any further, Ken arrives, right on schedule. Jaclyn dashes out as quickly as she can.
Uh oh. Another original cast member pops up. It's Jaclyn's nemesis DA Ronald Hunter. The two have a very checkered history going back to her days as a young up-and-coming thing, looking dumb and dowdy in her untailored suits and frumpy sweaters. He's decided to try the case himself. "Damn he's good, still good," Jaclyn sniffs while Ron is giving his opening argument.
Father Mason has a small heart attack in church, begging the Lord to "hold off" so he can see Rome because "I won't get a dime back" if he dies and the tickets can't be used.
Vice President Ken decides to visit Jaclyn and her son, as if the Vice President can just do that, make house calls. Awkward! "He looks like a TV star," the kid rattles on. He wants Ken to stay for dinner, but Ken picks him up and tells him he loves him. "Hey, ma, the nice man says he loves me," he says and runs out of the room. Awkward! It gets even stupider. I know, not possible, right?
Jaclyn tells Ken she has a feeling she's being "watched." That's our observant Jaclyn! There has only been a man standing outside of her building for weeks. She has a feeling? Hasn't she seen him, day and night? Anyway, Ken explains that the Secret Service has to protect all family members, oh, but not to worry, because "the President made the assignment himself," letting the Secret Service believe it was his son they were protecting. HOLD THE PHONE! In what world would the President of the United States do such a thing? To protect the Vice President? If there is an unknown child out there and anyone gets wind of it, that could kill a career (it was the 80s, before that stuff was fashionable), but the President is simply willing to take that chance? If that isn't the worst writing, I'm not sure what is. My only guess is that the President is so scared of Susan Sullivan as well that he would rather be found out by the American people.
Two quick scenes later (one where we find out Linda doesn't actually like Jaclyn, but needs her and one involving the court case), Jaclyn is watching her son play in the park when Michael Nouri shows up. He chatters endlessly before coming to the point, which is that he wants "an ongoing relationship" with her. You see, "it's already paid for, in blood." He then cozies up to the kid, whom Jaclyn sends home with the nanny, and of course the Secret Service agent a few yards behind. That way, no one can see Michael grab Jaclyn and kiss her, so he can feel what his brother felt. Ewwww!
Back in court, Jaclyn gets to cross-examine the boy accusing her client of molestation. The kid testifies all on his own that the guy never touched him. All he did was tell him he had no talent. I don't know who this kid is, but he knows how to play a courtroom scene with the best of them! He actually leaves the witness stand and goes over to apologize to his one-time accused. "I think what we have here is a tragedy, not a crime," the judge tells both lawyers. Rather than having a celebratory meal, Jaclyn and Paul settle for a drink. She describes going home as pretty boring, something about sloppy kisses from her son, his cars, his "delicious behind" and whatnot. Paul can top that with what seems like a 30-minute speech about his horrible life, his constantly-missing wife. Jaclyn cries yet again as she listens to his "go for the Emmy" type performing. She tries to top his downer of a life with her own, which she says consists of "hanging around."
Jaclyn gets home to find out Father Mason has been in an accident in Rome. She wants to be on the first plane. The Secret Service agent goes to tell Michael Nouri (oh, don't tell me you didn't see what coming). "You have business in Rome?" the agent asks, as a hint. "Everyone has business in Rome," Michael replies. "Business?" "No crackling wit, capice?" I haven't seen even non-crackling wit anywhere on display here. The conversation only gets worse from there.
At the hospital in Rome, the kid asks Jaclyn if he can give his heart to Father Mason so he can live "forever and ever." I don't advocate violence against children, but since this one is fictional, and everyone in this movie is a villain, can't someone rip his tongue out? Jaclyn has a heart-to-heart with Father Mason, who tells her, "you get with it...don't wait for the past to catch up. If you do, you won't recognize it." It has something to do with telling her son the truth about his father.
Michael Nouri is also in Rome, of course, and with a flashy red sportscar that he knows the kid will adore. Indeed, he is begged for a ride and gets taken on one. The Secret Service agent tries to object, but is told, "get fitted for a suit. Believe me, you can afford it" as Michael Nouri and the kid take a drive. Another man in a fancy sportscar goads Michael into racing them around Rome, always a good idea with a small child (who squeals with annoying delight and does not wear a seatbelt). Is there no better way to see the sights of Rome than this race? Of course, tragedy ensues. Michael and the kid go off the road to avoid a truck. Michael climbs out, bloody and bruised, but the kid doesn't look so good as the car catches fire and blows up.
Ken is pulled out of a very important meeting in Brussels (luckily enough) and rushes to Rome upon receiving Jaclyn's call.
The nun nurse tells Jaclyn to nap or walk, and she actually listens. "There will be no change in his condition for quite some time," she says about the kid. How does the nun nurse know that? As for Vice President Ken, who hasn't been able to go anywhere without cameras, no one seems to notice or question what he's doing in Rome. Jaclyn finds him praying in a small church. Ken blames himself because he should have "stood at the top of the Capitol stairs and said, 'that's my kid, that's my kid.'" "Something else would have happened," Jaclyn says, not disagreeing, but also not comforting.
Unfortunately, we've been without Marquesa Angela Lansbury since her one scene in the first portion. When a visitor comes, she offers "a belt," a bourbon drink because "personally, I can't stand any of that grape crap." "How's the kid?" she asks after a very funny diatribe about what her dead husband left her. Back to the dead husband, she says, "he took me off the streets of New Orleans. I turned him on like he'd never been turned on before." She wants to know if the kid belongs to Ken, but decides herself it's not possible. "He's too earnest to make babies." "He has a daughter." "His wife has a daughter." "What a pair," she exclaims, "a thoroughly married politician and a vulnerable wounded romantic, mamma mia!" So far, it's the best scene in the movie, not surprisingly.
But, the next has potential, if only its players weren't so lazy. Michael Nouri, in a sling, shows up to talk to Jaclyn. Jaclyn really has the upper hand in this argument, but Michael stands his ground, saying "if the boy lives, we all start again. If he doesn't, that's sad but nothing changes, you still owe us." Wow, that's cold! And poorly written. Jaclyn flies into a rage and Michael backs out of the room, saying, "business is business. Personal business is personal business," gesturing with a finger as if that makes it any less ridiculous of a statement.
Unfortunately for Michael, his scene is sandwiched between two with Marquesa Angela. She finds Jaclyn outside the hospital and starts yammering away, tossing off lines like they were spun of gold before offering to buy her a drink at a cafe. "There's always a cafe near a hospital. Doctors, nurses, all of them, they couldn't do without booze and bad food," she huffs before telling Jaclyn how beautiful she is. Jaclyn, scared by the crazy lady, excuses herself, but Angela calls out, "I'm your mother for God's sake!...It's all right kid, I don't need money, but you can buy me a drink and hate me later."
"You left me in the crib with enough Graham Crackers for 25 years and enough love for 20 seconds," Jaclyn says at a meal to her mother. The writing really does get better when Angela Lansbury is around. Even Jaclyn suddenly seems more alert. "Your dad was a real class act...and he bored the hell out of me," her mother tells Jaclyn, who has nothing but anger for her. "Go to hell," Jaclyn yells. "Been there, didn't like it, left." "Just what are you?" "A working girl who got lucky." It gets even more delicious! "You are beautiful," Angie tells Jaclyn. "I mean, you dress like you're sorry for everything, but you are beautiful." At least SOMEONE finally noticed how badly this character dresses. We're only about 90 minutes shy of the end, so it's taken a movie and a half for someone to agree with me! "You look like me, you know," Angela says on her way out. "Your father was a nice man, but not very good looking." That's an interesting compliment. It's the last thing she says here, other than, "someone could get killed with information like that," referring to the paternity of her son.
The kid wakes up to see his mother, like a vision, and smiles. She calls Ken and he darts over.
Don't forget about Susan. Naturally, she gets updates on what her husband is doing and asks her pal Debra what she would do to a person who has preoccupied her all these years. "Is it a man or a woman?" Debra asks. "Suppose it were a man." "I might kill him," Debra replies. "And if it were a woman?" "I'd definitely kill her." The idea is now officially in Susan's head. When Ken gets home, Susan is in a mood! She demands that he never contact Jaclyn again. She has a lousy rant to deliver, but she's talented enough to make it seem halfway decent. "You wouldn't put your ass on a stain cushion if you thought it could make the slightest crease," Ken tells her in a line his character would never say replying to her and her own ambitious plans.
The hilarity continues on Jaclyn's first day at the white shoe law firm. Linda Dano, now decked out as Cruella deVille, shares champagne and flirty remarks with Paul and Michael Woods before racing out of the room to get back to DC. Downstairs, Linda complains about Paul, saying he needs to be watched because he may kill himself or something, I don't know. I think she rewrote all of her own dialogue and based it on things she had said during her time on "Another World," but it sounds like random fragments. Citing the fact that Jaclyn has "ruined my day," she can't go with Michael to the theater that night and tells him to get the girl from the tax department to go. "I hear she yells real loud," she notes. He doesn't agree, saying, "she doesn't even know who I am." "She knows who I am, she'll yell!" Linda barks.
If you don't remember Michael O'Hare, don't worry. He was one of the endless parade of characters introduced in the first part of the movie who didn't do anything because it's all about Jaclyn. The poor guy returns now, helping his kinswoman Nanny Pauline with the groceries and then gets hit over the head by Brad and Michael Nouri. Brad thinks Michael O'Hare is tailing Jaclyn on behalf of Michael Nouri's partner, Philip Bosco. He claims not to know Philip. Michael Nouri threatens him with a breezy speech and then decides the guy is telling the truth. "See what a highly-charged world we live in?" he asks the beaten man? "We look everywhere for the truth but in a man's eyes. If we could see in your eyes, I bet we could see the truth." That is highfalutin' garbage that I think someone thought would sound pretty. "It's okay, no harm done," Michael O'Hare says, barely able to limp out of the room. It's okay? You just beat me to within an inch of my life, but hey, no worries. But, since he's seen their faces, Brad has to kill him. I truly hope that Michael O'Hare had more to do with the plot than die after two scenes. If he doesn't, that means all of the supporting characters, the priest, the long-lost mother, the bitchy female lawyer, the sad-sack legal friend, might also have no purpose but to waste time. If the story were left to Jaclyn, Ken, Michael and Susan, I guess it would be about 30 minutes.
Working late with Paul, Jaclyn gets a call from Ken. Seeing how upset she is, Paul says, "let's get out of here, listen to some gentle music." What? The trick to getting rid of the blues is soft jazz (pun intended)? "What's left after tears," she asks, wanting to cry, but unable. "I don't know, dignity, I guess." That line has Sidney Sheldon written all over it! It sounds profound, but is actually nonsensical.
Phew, Linda does have a tangential reason to be in the plot. She's an accomplice of Philip and Michael Nouri's. They all want the case against their legit business partner quashed by Ken and the Attorney General. Like Philip, she is tired of watching Michael drag his feet. They want action now! After some banter, Linda realizes Michael is "in love," and laughs about it. "You've fallen in love with the downstairs maid, how droll," she quips. "I'd kill you if you hadn't already died of face lift poisoning," he replies. Philip tells them to knock it off, and Michael apologizes. "I'm a businessman. I even have business cards. Engraved." The scene gets loonier with every passing sentence!
Paul flips out, for reasons Jaclyn doesn't understand, and goes racing off into traffic. A dead body is discovered undera bridge, but it's not Paul. It's the Secret Service man, whom Michael had paid to retire. DA Ron believes he was murdered.
When Jaclyn arrives at work the next day, two women greet her and she barks, "can't you two share one good morning?" It's not really a good one, because Paul is leaving. She gives him the hard push out the door, hoping that will work. "I might be unraveling, but I'm still trying. You, counselor, aren't even in the fight anymore. You don't bleed, you reminisce," he tells her. Yup, indeed the scene has turned itself around to be about her again. The dialogue that follows get so insanely clunky, it's hard to have any sympathy for either character. He says that he intends to give disappearing wife another try, maybe ending up "a suicide or a drunk," which will be fine with him because he tried, unlike her. What the hell? But wait, it all works! Jaclyn decides to "catch up with my past." Next time I have a friend in trouble, I can only hope he finds a way to talk me off the ledge with such intelligent words (sarcasm intended).
Without shoulder pads bursting from every piece of clothing but her shoes, that means Jaclyn is going to see Ken, who is "grateful and so very much in love." Their romance is rekindled so easily. When she wakes up from what was obviously a lovely evening, Ken is on the phone with political business that she is allowed to hear. Phone call done, he drags her back into bed. They recite what is essentially the same line of dialogue over and over again in various ways: they both can't believe the other is there. It's all wonderfully idyllic, even for a Vice President with people watching him (when Susan finds out, she is going to be mighty angry!). Ken gets what may be the most laughable line of dialogue in the enitre movie. He says, "Vice Presidents are not celebrities, you know, unless something brings attention to us during, say, a campaign or a funeral. Nobodies knows who the hell we are and couldn't care less." Hmmmm, that's interesting, considering the movie has spent nothing but time gushing about the Vice President, making him into the world's biggest celebrity!
Oh, both of them brought their kids. Was it smart to bring the daughter, Susan's daughter? Won't Susan be pumping her for details? Anyway, after much gooey talk, slow dancing, mist on the beach, they have to separate because Ken has to go...to a funeral! Did he know that was going to happen when he said it before? Go on! Amazing, eh? "We still have the night," Ken says, so they roast marshmallows, indoors. Folks, it doesn't get any goofier than this. Wait, it does:
Him: "No more separations. I can't say goodbye anymore."
Her: "What can you say?"
Him: "Don't know."
Her: "You really don't know, do you?"
Me: "I think even the writers have given up at this point.
With the love plot not having moved an inch since the movie started some 47 hours ago, why not go back to the courtroom? Trying her "third case in a week" against DA Ron, Jaclyn goes all mind-bending on the jury, telling them to pretend they are in her living room and Ron is horrified at how the jury falls for it. So, he uses it on their next case up against Jaclyn. She turns it around and reminds them they ARE in a courtroom, blasting DA Ron once again. As if this hasn't wasted enough time, Jaclyn baits him in the hallway, where she chides him about hating women. His assistant say he's been happily married a long time. "Has anyone asked his wife?" Jaclyn asks, using a pun from vaudeville.
Just in time, Marquesa Mama Angela Lanbsury returns. Jaclyn arrives home from work to see her teaching the kid how to play poker. Nanny and Father Mason are in deep trouble over that one, but Angela quips, "your kid has possibilities." She's been in touch with Father Mason, who tells Jaclyn, "she had business in Cleveland, so she thought she'd stop off in New York." Wait, the rich successful Marquesa has business in CLEVELAND? Anyway, just as Jaclyn is making a crack about her drinking, Angela stumbles up the stairs. She makes a few jokes and Jaclyn tells Father Mason "she just likes to be outrageous." You've met her once, twice at most, and you her behavior patterns? "You can do better than the politician, be patient," Mama says. As she scoots her way through another speech, making Jaclyn cry yet again, one wishes the beloved character actress would stick around. She says, "I'll be at the Plaza if you need me" and then corrects herself, saying it's a "sentimental habit," but I need her. Which room? Come baaaaaaaack!
Father Mason tells Jaclyn three times, making up for St. Peter, I suppose, that Angela is her mother. She is her mother. Her mother! The doorbell rings. In those pre-email days, it's a hand-delivered note that says, in total, "Not a request, but an order! The Hans Christian Andersen statue Monday, 11am. The Brother." He has awfully nice penmanship for a murderous thug. Take that, psychiatry!
Anyway, Michael Nouri gives Jaclyn a letter to deliver to give to Ken, and if not, "exposure." He forces a kiss on her. "You're in bed with the devil, enjoy," he says and blithely trots off. He hides in a tunnel in Central Park and tries to rape her, but when she tries some psychology on him, saying he's not his brother, he can't do it and leaves her sobbing, blouse torn. She calls Ken and begs to see him (it's tough to get away, since he may have to break a tie in the Senate), so they arrange to meet at a fancy event. That seems to make sense to him and he actually get her to believe the same. Susan is listening in on the extension.
Jaclyn takes to the party the most exciting man she knows, Father Mason, who comments that the hotel is hosting five other parties because "nothing stops weddings, Bar Mitzvahs and college graduations." You know, if the cut crap like that, this could have been so much less painful. He dishes on the food too, the cranky old goat. Brad is there watching her and then Vice President shows up with his wife, Linda Dano and Michael Woods. Even DA Ron is there with his wife, the punch line of that earlier joke. She's not allowed to speak.
Our darling angel is summoned to a room upstairs and if you expected Susan to be there, you would be...wrong. This miniseries ain't that smart. No, it's Ken, making excuses. "I understand, one funeral after another," Jaclyn sasses, getting quickly to the point. She hands him the blackmail letter from Michael Nouri. Ken think "it's incredible." In fact, he says, "no and no and no," just like Jaclyn knew he would and THEN cue Susan, calling her a whore, as she always does. Run her down again, Susie. Okay, it wasn't you, it was your predecessor, but that put the dame in the hospital for a good long time. Murder is even still on the table. Do it now, before they think of a "plot" for "Rage of Angels 3."
Susan urges giving into the blackmail because "the system works." Understandably, Jaclyn asks "what system?" "You have no standing in this court," Susan huffs. Objection! The dialogue is getting worse, your honor. The weakling Ken starts to cave. "There are complex issues here," he says, just like a politician. "Trust me, I'll do the right thing, I always have," he tells Jaclyn. Wait, when has he EVER done the right thing? He picks up the phone to call Michael Nouri and after everyone's eyes look at everyone else, Jaclyn storms out. He then goes downstairs to make his lofty speech about the need for art. In a miniseries sequel based on Sidney Sheldon characters. Art?
Michael Nouri coos to Philip Bosco that "it's the first time I ever talked to a Vice President. He sounded like a pompous squid." I assume he has had many experiences with squid, both pompous and otherwise in order to make such a declaration. Philip suggests Michael go on a vacation, all flush with success, but Michael still has the business of his brother's death to avenge. He then invites Brad up to his apartment because he's "too excited to sleep." Once inside, Brad shoots him in the chest, saying, "you don't kill the Vice President, it's not right." How true. It's only really been tried once, unsuccessfully. The picture of Armand Assante is now on a table right next to Brad so it can watch each successive shot, apparently ordered by Philip, though still because "it's not right to kill the Vice President." Nimrod that he is, Brad doesn't bother to make sure Michael is dead, so Michael shoots him dead and then finally collapses, bringin the picture of his brother down with him. "I'm sorry," he whispers and dies.
Paul Shenar is furious that Michael Nouri is dead, but Philip insists that it had to be done because "he sent all psycho on us." Linda offers an opinion, but Paul tells her to zip it, "playing the diplomat brings out the slut in you." Wait, what? The woman has more clothes on than a Aleut in the winter, and she's sipping tea, no less. Slut? That's a harsh (and inappropriate for the situation) word. The discussion is heated and stays heated, but cheesy, as villainspeak always is in these pieces. As soon as that scene ends, Ken and Susan see on TV that Paul has been killed in a car accident. Susan is thrilled that "it's all over...they have a happy ending and so do we." She add that he can call Jaclyn and "tell her she can live quietly. Tell her TO live quietly" in such a delightfully malevolent way.
Somehow, Jaclyn knows that Linda was "up to her ears in the whole thing" and quits the law practice, telling Father Mason that Paul Roebling is back with his wife, so he's taken care of too. The doorbell rings again. Angela is back, having dropped the kid off at school. Just as she's being all grandmotherly, she has a pain and almost passes out. The phone rings and Jaclyn has to "take it upstairs," ordering Father Mason to get Mama a "glass of water, nothing in it." "Uh, Padre," Angie stops him, sticking out two fingers. Nope. One finger. Okay, maybe. I need not say that Angela Lansbury is slumming big time here, but she's having such a blast doing it, it hardly matters. She goes over to the phone, wanting to pick it up, but apparently motherly instincts, and a picture of Jaclyn's father, change her mind. "How ill are you?" Father Mason asks, not waiting for an answer. "That's why you came home," he adds. She refuses to tell Jaclyn. "A little bourbon and my big mouth and they'll never even notice I have a cold," she grumbles.
When Jaclyn comes downstairs, Angela announces "I'm off" and tries not to ask about the phone call. "I'm not going to see him," Jaclyn says. "Good. You can vote for him! Nothing else," she notes. They hug and then Mama Angie asks where Jaclyn's father is buried. "He was a nice man, and he brought you up well. I'd like to thank him for that," she says, before launching into the overly stale bit about not remembering his name for the umpteenth time.
The kid is once again playing in the park with Nanny and Jaclyn when Ken appears, Secret Service following. He wants to resign, but Jaclyn calls her "a martyr to love" and gets downright nasty with him. She loves him, but "it has to become irrelevant...to growing up and moving on." Cliches spring up fast as she essentially blows him off, snuffing out the love affair that has been gasping for air across two miniseries. Way to kick your watchers in the groin, lady. "Don't let anyone frighten you again, you're too tall," she tells him, both crying, though Ken does it with far more conviction, probably since Jaclyn has cried herself empty.
How does it end? With Jaclyn and the kid dancing in a circle with other kids in Central Park. It's a stupid ending, but at least it ends.
Like "Lace II," "Rage of Angels: The Story Continues" is utterly pointless. However, "Lace II" had colorful characters worth seeing again, even if it was handled without any skill. "Rage of Angels: The Story Continues" has tons of polish, but nothing worth polishing. The plot is recycled (the tortured love that cannot be, the whining best friend), though what's new is inane. What the hell is Angela Lansbury doing playing an Italian Marquesa who is Jaclyn Smith's mother? Other than superb comic timing, elegance and acting ability, even Angela Lansbury has nothing to add to this story. Her character is not involved in the plot, helps solve nothing. She shows up, announces who she is, has a few light scenes and then disappears again. Poor Mason Adams is only on hand to have a heart attack and bring Jaclyn to Rome in the middle of her story so she can meet her mother, as if her mother couldn't have found an excuse to go to the US. Ken being the Vice President is a bad idea because it cheapens Jaclyn's character and gives Susan Sullivan little to play (a bit of Angela's "Manchurian Candidate" would have done her well). There are fights with DA Ron that are just scene filler. Linda Dano? What's she doing, fluffing up the resume? If there is anything here that sums up the sheer idiocy of the piece, it's Michael O'Hare's "plot." The man is brought in only to be killed...as an oops, got the wrong guy. Huh? There is truly nothing here that cries for a two-night sequel. Nothing!
And damn it, Jaclyn, lose the friggin' shoulder pads!
Who asked for the story to continue?
How fondly we remember Jaclyn Smith as Jennifer Parker, the plucky lawyer in the Sidney Sheldon trash-fest "Rage of Angels." Definitely not the best of the Sidney Sheldon miniseries, it's the strangest one from which to draw a sequel (that, like "Lace II," only takes the characters from the original). It wasn't that good a book and wasn't that good a miniseries, but, since Jaclyn Smith and Ken Howard apparently had nothing better to do, here they are, back for more. Thus, there is "Rage of Angels: The Story Continues," though the story was pretty much self-contained in the original and did not beg for a continuation.
When we last left them, just as a reminder, Jaclyn's character was leaving town forever, having been through the kidnapping of her son and a few dead bodies. Ken was in a marriage from hell, but rising up the political scene, so careful to appear happy, though his wife did try to have Jaclyn killed. There was a mob lawyer in love with her, but he's actually not back for this one (Armand Assante had "Evergreen" on his plate around the same time--he chose wisely). Really, that's all you need to know diving into the sequel. If you don't remember it, flashbacks are provided in the second scene to catch you up, but trust me, I'm faster.
Admittedly, things start off well enough. A carriage driver in Central Park is dead when his horse returns the carriage to the line, and the customer in the carriage is also dead. The murderer approaches Michael Nouri, asking who his "customer" was. "A friend," is the only reply he gets.
Jacklyn leaves court and gets into a cab, asking the driver to turn up the news. Her former lover, Ken Howard, is the Vice President-Elect. He's still married, though now his wife is played by the always-lovable Susan Sullivan, who managed to live through the "Rich Man, Poor Man" sequel alive, and that's as dire as miniseries sequels get. For some reason, coverage of the inauguration focuses on the Vice President. For the life of me, I can't remember seeing either the outgoing or incoming Veep at an inauguration, though I'm sure they are there.
Just who is Michael Nouri? It turns out he's the brother of Armand Assante's character. His first real scene, with fellow bad guys Paul Shenar and Philip Bosco, doesn't make much sense, but it seems the dirt he has on Ken (presumably that he's the father of Jaclyn's son, whom she's pretending to raise as an orphan, much to the dismay of her nanny) is hoped to be enough to convince Ken to stop the Attorney General from getting in the way of their business dealings.
This movie has one thing the original didn't, and a big difference: Angela Lansbury! In the middle of her third career as a TV celeb, Angela had proven there was nothing she couldn't liven up. Aunt Hortense in "Lace" almost stole the movie! This time around, she's a sloshed Italian Marquesa. "Inaugurations, what a circus!" she bellows as her television only gives partial reception to the inauguration of the Vice Presi...I mean, President. La Lansbury will have no competition with her snoozy cast members. This time, there is no "almost." She will steal the movie, not that it's worth much.
Jaclyn's friend Father Mason Adams is on his way to Rome (already the miniseries is inept--wouldn't it have been better to do the scene with the jolly priest and THEN show Italy?). The way he eats, chirps the nanny, he's bound to pack on the pounds. "Do you think priests go to Rome for spiritual growth?" he asks, just a few years show of that line being shamefully embarrassing. Jaclyn sasses the priest back, saying "it's nice to have a priest around...absolves us of our sins before we commit them." Father Mason has a purpose (don't stop there, this is leading somewhere) in being at Jaclyn's. He wants her to hire Paul Roebling, a notable lawyer "who was very nearly disbarred," in Jaclyn's words. She doesn't remember when that happened to her?
The Washington balls are on television for all to see as well, and of course the cameras are centered, where else, but on the Vice President. Michael scowls watching, promising his henchman Brad Dourif some work (there's a long conversation about blackmail versus murder, cleaning up and absolutely nothing important) before going to the head shot of his dead brother on the wall, lit like a religious icon, promising revenge. Yup, that appears to be the plot.
Jaclyn is also watching the balls, but she lucks into the one millisecond of commentary NOT about the Vice President. Nope, it's about his wife, the "second lady of the land." She's said to be extremely ambitious, which Jaclyn knows all too well but can't think about in flashback because Susan Sullivan hadn't yet played the part. "The eyes of the nation" are on this couple, we are told. Boy, the President and First Lady must be exceedingly boring people if they don't even rate a camera shot or two on Inauguration Day.
Finally, we meet this couple in person, in their new digs, a mansion so big it dwarfs the White House. "If Marie Antoinette had your brains, this would be a palace, there would be no need for revolution, hypocrisy. Poverty and injustice would be irrelevant," Ken tells Susan. Do you understand what he said? I sure as hell don't. Maybe we'll come back to it later. He's actually quite bitter, going on to say how "without you" he would be this or that. "Without me, you might be a hell of a lot happier," Susan finally snaps to end that ramble. She still clings to him like they are actually in love and then launches into her version of the way things will be. "Heaven does charge. There will be no scandal, no affairs for me, no you. Therefore, old husband, you have the deal of the century...so, Mr. Vice President, here I am, the only game in town," she says, alternating between steeliness and a strange sexiness. That doesn't stop him of dreaming of Jaclyn in his sleep, with pissed-off Susan watching from the back-lit windows. "You brought her here tonight. You chose this occasion to bring her into our house...you didn't sleep with me, you slept with her, you brought a whore into the sheets!" she rails, wildly overestimating talking in one's sleep.
Unable to bear his wife's jealousy, Ken does what all politicians in trashy stories (and Nixon) do: he gets in his limo, with his security detail in tow, and goes to the Lincoln Memorial. Why? Is Ken wrestling with questions of national unity or ethical responses to slavery? Hell, Abe Lincoln was never even Vice President! Oh, wait, I sorry, it's just to call Jaclyn in private. Sorry, sorry, I jumped to a conclusion. It's been years since they last spoke, but just hearing his voice makes her cry. It just makes me snore.
Paul shows up at Jaclyn's office (so does Brad, if you care) to encounter snooty secretary Tonya Pinkins for his interview. He was a high-powered attorney who didn't show up for a summation and cost his client a case, apparently searching for his wife, "whose whereabouts are irrelevant." In miniseries terminology, that means she's going to show up at the worst possible time. When trying to sell himself to Jaclyn, he refers to himself a few times as "damaged goods," saying she can get them at a bargain or for a long time. Which how-to-interview manual did he read so we can all avoid it. "I don't think you're damaged goods, but you are a bargain," Jaclyn says with a smile and hires him. She gives him as a welcome-to-the-firm a "child molestation case," on the side of the "alleged molester." "Ugh, I want a raise," he jokes.
Ken slips up to New York City to see Jaclyn, the Secret Service hustling all of the other park patrons away so Ken can talk to Jaclyn, who still pines at the same place along the river. "I still love you," he admits. "Go home, be a loving husband and a loving father," she says, bolting off when the topic turns to their son.
At home, Nanny Pauline Flanagan introduces Jaclyn to Michael O'Hare, from the old country, looking for work. Nanny is not at all happy that Jaclyn is defending a child molester. "People like that..." she starts to say before Jaclyn cuts her off with "are people!"
Jaclyn is being wooed by Southern-accented Michael Woods to join his powerful firm. Apparently, they want "more women, more ethnic types, more non-establishment types." It's always nice to be offered a job when you are told ahead of time you are filling a quota. She declines immediately, saying "I'm doing fine." Michael suggests he could be fired for not signing up Jaclyn, but Jaclyn agrees to cover for him should his boss conta..."You laugh like a chicken."
Huh? What? Oh, the chicken line came from Michael Nouri, who sits down at their table without an invitation. Michael Woods wants to verbally tussle with him, but a cliche story about broken kneecaps scares him off. "You're Michael's brother," Jaclyn figures out somehow from just these few clues. Usually, it takes an elevator falling on her to understand her surroundings, but this time, she's smart as a tack. He wants her to "help me avenge my brother's death."
"Are you going to punish me for your brother's death?" she finally asks Michael Nouri tells her the life story of Hans Christian Andersen. Frankly, at the end of it, I was hoping he might just kill me. If this is the way he's going to talk through the whole move, then shoot me now. Michael feels that Jaclyn owes him for saving her son. She reminds him she took a bullet from his brother intended for Ken and can't have any more children. "That was your brother's legacy to me," she adds. He still claims, "you owe us."
Get this bizarre scene. Jaclyn and Paul Roebling are listening to their client tell his version of what happened when into the office, without so much as a knock, comes secretary Tony Pinkins to deliver the tickets to Washington the fancy law firm has sent her. Jaclyn and Paul start discussing the offer. Wait a minute! Your client is sitting right there! Since when would a secretary just waltz in and interrupt, and how rude of the other two to discuss their lives in front of him! "I would appreciate it if I could go home now," the client says. "Of course," Jaclyn replies, barely having remembered he was there at all. On his way out, he tells Tonya, "Isaac Stern...is on the radio tonight. I once met Mr. Stern. He was quite cordial." I know this was meant as the sad rambling of a misbegotten man, but the line could also be seen as a swipe for Tonya having barged in on his hourly-billed time with his lawyers.
The tacky 80s are in full swing at a party hosted by Michael Woods' big law firm. One of the partners is soap queen Linda Dano, wearing a sequined gown and freshly frosted hair. Oh, the party is in DC, by the way, which no doubt will be very handy for our central plot, if we ever find out exactly what it is. Linda walks by and promises to be back. "Is she always..." "No, when she's angry, government buildings close, monuments cringe," he says, but notes that one doesn't "adore" her, one "worships" her.
I called it. Plot advancement time. Into the party swoops Susan Sullivan. "See a ghost?" pal Debra Mooney asks. "Just a whore." "Ooooh, where...this place is full of whores, which one is yours?" Um, okay.
Linda is giving Jaclyn the hard sell when they inevitably have to bump into Susan. Linda gives Susan and over-the-top welcome, to which Susan replies, "I've not just come out of intensive care. I've merely come to your sweet little party." Before her bitchiness can go any further, Ken arrives, right on schedule. Jaclyn dashes out as quickly as she can.
Uh oh. Another original cast member pops up. It's Jaclyn's nemesis DA Ronald Hunter. The two have a very checkered history going back to her days as a young up-and-coming thing, looking dumb and dowdy in her untailored suits and frumpy sweaters. He's decided to try the case himself. "Damn he's good, still good," Jaclyn sniffs while Ron is giving his opening argument.
Father Mason has a small heart attack in church, begging the Lord to "hold off" so he can see Rome because "I won't get a dime back" if he dies and the tickets can't be used.
Vice President Ken decides to visit Jaclyn and her son, as if the Vice President can just do that, make house calls. Awkward! "He looks like a TV star," the kid rattles on. He wants Ken to stay for dinner, but Ken picks him up and tells him he loves him. "Hey, ma, the nice man says he loves me," he says and runs out of the room. Awkward! It gets even stupider. I know, not possible, right?
Jaclyn tells Ken she has a feeling she's being "watched." That's our observant Jaclyn! There has only been a man standing outside of her building for weeks. She has a feeling? Hasn't she seen him, day and night? Anyway, Ken explains that the Secret Service has to protect all family members, oh, but not to worry, because "the President made the assignment himself," letting the Secret Service believe it was his son they were protecting. HOLD THE PHONE! In what world would the President of the United States do such a thing? To protect the Vice President? If there is an unknown child out there and anyone gets wind of it, that could kill a career (it was the 80s, before that stuff was fashionable), but the President is simply willing to take that chance? If that isn't the worst writing, I'm not sure what is. My only guess is that the President is so scared of Susan Sullivan as well that he would rather be found out by the American people.
Two quick scenes later (one where we find out Linda doesn't actually like Jaclyn, but needs her and one involving the court case), Jaclyn is watching her son play in the park when Michael Nouri shows up. He chatters endlessly before coming to the point, which is that he wants "an ongoing relationship" with her. You see, "it's already paid for, in blood." He then cozies up to the kid, whom Jaclyn sends home with the nanny, and of course the Secret Service agent a few yards behind. That way, no one can see Michael grab Jaclyn and kiss her, so he can feel what his brother felt. Ewwww!
Back in court, Jaclyn gets to cross-examine the boy accusing her client of molestation. The kid testifies all on his own that the guy never touched him. All he did was tell him he had no talent. I don't know who this kid is, but he knows how to play a courtroom scene with the best of them! He actually leaves the witness stand and goes over to apologize to his one-time accused. "I think what we have here is a tragedy, not a crime," the judge tells both lawyers. Rather than having a celebratory meal, Jaclyn and Paul settle for a drink. She describes going home as pretty boring, something about sloppy kisses from her son, his cars, his "delicious behind" and whatnot. Paul can top that with what seems like a 30-minute speech about his horrible life, his constantly-missing wife. Jaclyn cries yet again as she listens to his "go for the Emmy" type performing. She tries to top his downer of a life with her own, which she says consists of "hanging around."
Jaclyn gets home to find out Father Mason has been in an accident in Rome. She wants to be on the first plane. The Secret Service agent goes to tell Michael Nouri (oh, don't tell me you didn't see what coming). "You have business in Rome?" the agent asks, as a hint. "Everyone has business in Rome," Michael replies. "Business?" "No crackling wit, capice?" I haven't seen even non-crackling wit anywhere on display here. The conversation only gets worse from there.
At the hospital in Rome, the kid asks Jaclyn if he can give his heart to Father Mason so he can live "forever and ever." I don't advocate violence against children, but since this one is fictional, and everyone in this movie is a villain, can't someone rip his tongue out? Jaclyn has a heart-to-heart with Father Mason, who tells her, "you get with it...don't wait for the past to catch up. If you do, you won't recognize it." It has something to do with telling her son the truth about his father.
Michael Nouri is also in Rome, of course, and with a flashy red sportscar that he knows the kid will adore. Indeed, he is begged for a ride and gets taken on one. The Secret Service agent tries to object, but is told, "get fitted for a suit. Believe me, you can afford it" as Michael Nouri and the kid take a drive. Another man in a fancy sportscar goads Michael into racing them around Rome, always a good idea with a small child (who squeals with annoying delight and does not wear a seatbelt). Is there no better way to see the sights of Rome than this race? Of course, tragedy ensues. Michael and the kid go off the road to avoid a truck. Michael climbs out, bloody and bruised, but the kid doesn't look so good as the car catches fire and blows up.
Ken is pulled out of a very important meeting in Brussels (luckily enough) and rushes to Rome upon receiving Jaclyn's call.
The nun nurse tells Jaclyn to nap or walk, and she actually listens. "There will be no change in his condition for quite some time," she says about the kid. How does the nun nurse know that? As for Vice President Ken, who hasn't been able to go anywhere without cameras, no one seems to notice or question what he's doing in Rome. Jaclyn finds him praying in a small church. Ken blames himself because he should have "stood at the top of the Capitol stairs and said, 'that's my kid, that's my kid.'" "Something else would have happened," Jaclyn says, not disagreeing, but also not comforting.
Unfortunately, we've been without Marquesa Angela Lansbury since her one scene in the first portion. When a visitor comes, she offers "a belt," a bourbon drink because "personally, I can't stand any of that grape crap." "How's the kid?" she asks after a very funny diatribe about what her dead husband left her. Back to the dead husband, she says, "he took me off the streets of New Orleans. I turned him on like he'd never been turned on before." She wants to know if the kid belongs to Ken, but decides herself it's not possible. "He's too earnest to make babies." "He has a daughter." "His wife has a daughter." "What a pair," she exclaims, "a thoroughly married politician and a vulnerable wounded romantic, mamma mia!" So far, it's the best scene in the movie, not surprisingly.
But, the next has potential, if only its players weren't so lazy. Michael Nouri, in a sling, shows up to talk to Jaclyn. Jaclyn really has the upper hand in this argument, but Michael stands his ground, saying "if the boy lives, we all start again. If he doesn't, that's sad but nothing changes, you still owe us." Wow, that's cold! And poorly written. Jaclyn flies into a rage and Michael backs out of the room, saying, "business is business. Personal business is personal business," gesturing with a finger as if that makes it any less ridiculous of a statement.
Unfortunately for Michael, his scene is sandwiched between two with Marquesa Angela. She finds Jaclyn outside the hospital and starts yammering away, tossing off lines like they were spun of gold before offering to buy her a drink at a cafe. "There's always a cafe near a hospital. Doctors, nurses, all of them, they couldn't do without booze and bad food," she huffs before telling Jaclyn how beautiful she is. Jaclyn, scared by the crazy lady, excuses herself, but Angela calls out, "I'm your mother for God's sake!...It's all right kid, I don't need money, but you can buy me a drink and hate me later."
"You left me in the crib with enough Graham Crackers for 25 years and enough love for 20 seconds," Jaclyn says at a meal to her mother. The writing really does get better when Angela Lansbury is around. Even Jaclyn suddenly seems more alert. "Your dad was a real class act...and he bored the hell out of me," her mother tells Jaclyn, who has nothing but anger for her. "Go to hell," Jaclyn yells. "Been there, didn't like it, left." "Just what are you?" "A working girl who got lucky." It gets even more delicious! "You are beautiful," Angie tells Jaclyn. "I mean, you dress like you're sorry for everything, but you are beautiful." At least SOMEONE finally noticed how badly this character dresses. We're only about 90 minutes shy of the end, so it's taken a movie and a half for someone to agree with me! "You look like me, you know," Angela says on her way out. "Your father was a nice man, but not very good looking." That's an interesting compliment. It's the last thing she says here, other than, "someone could get killed with information like that," referring to the paternity of her son.
The kid wakes up to see his mother, like a vision, and smiles. She calls Ken and he darts over.
Don't forget about Susan. Naturally, she gets updates on what her husband is doing and asks her pal Debra what she would do to a person who has preoccupied her all these years. "Is it a man or a woman?" Debra asks. "Suppose it were a man." "I might kill him," Debra replies. "And if it were a woman?" "I'd definitely kill her." The idea is now officially in Susan's head. When Ken gets home, Susan is in a mood! She demands that he never contact Jaclyn again. She has a lousy rant to deliver, but she's talented enough to make it seem halfway decent. "You wouldn't put your ass on a stain cushion if you thought it could make the slightest crease," Ken tells her in a line his character would never say replying to her and her own ambitious plans.
The hilarity continues on Jaclyn's first day at the white shoe law firm. Linda Dano, now decked out as Cruella deVille, shares champagne and flirty remarks with Paul and Michael Woods before racing out of the room to get back to DC. Downstairs, Linda complains about Paul, saying he needs to be watched because he may kill himself or something, I don't know. I think she rewrote all of her own dialogue and based it on things she had said during her time on "Another World," but it sounds like random fragments. Citing the fact that Jaclyn has "ruined my day," she can't go with Michael to the theater that night and tells him to get the girl from the tax department to go. "I hear she yells real loud," she notes. He doesn't agree, saying, "she doesn't even know who I am." "She knows who I am, she'll yell!" Linda barks.
If you don't remember Michael O'Hare, don't worry. He was one of the endless parade of characters introduced in the first part of the movie who didn't do anything because it's all about Jaclyn. The poor guy returns now, helping his kinswoman Nanny Pauline with the groceries and then gets hit over the head by Brad and Michael Nouri. Brad thinks Michael O'Hare is tailing Jaclyn on behalf of Michael Nouri's partner, Philip Bosco. He claims not to know Philip. Michael Nouri threatens him with a breezy speech and then decides the guy is telling the truth. "See what a highly-charged world we live in?" he asks the beaten man? "We look everywhere for the truth but in a man's eyes. If we could see in your eyes, I bet we could see the truth." That is highfalutin' garbage that I think someone thought would sound pretty. "It's okay, no harm done," Michael O'Hare says, barely able to limp out of the room. It's okay? You just beat me to within an inch of my life, but hey, no worries. But, since he's seen their faces, Brad has to kill him. I truly hope that Michael O'Hare had more to do with the plot than die after two scenes. If he doesn't, that means all of the supporting characters, the priest, the long-lost mother, the bitchy female lawyer, the sad-sack legal friend, might also have no purpose but to waste time. If the story were left to Jaclyn, Ken, Michael and Susan, I guess it would be about 30 minutes.
Working late with Paul, Jaclyn gets a call from Ken. Seeing how upset she is, Paul says, "let's get out of here, listen to some gentle music." What? The trick to getting rid of the blues is soft jazz (pun intended)? "What's left after tears," she asks, wanting to cry, but unable. "I don't know, dignity, I guess." That line has Sidney Sheldon written all over it! It sounds profound, but is actually nonsensical.
Phew, Linda does have a tangential reason to be in the plot. She's an accomplice of Philip and Michael Nouri's. They all want the case against their legit business partner quashed by Ken and the Attorney General. Like Philip, she is tired of watching Michael drag his feet. They want action now! After some banter, Linda realizes Michael is "in love," and laughs about it. "You've fallen in love with the downstairs maid, how droll," she quips. "I'd kill you if you hadn't already died of face lift poisoning," he replies. Philip tells them to knock it off, and Michael apologizes. "I'm a businessman. I even have business cards. Engraved." The scene gets loonier with every passing sentence!
Paul flips out, for reasons Jaclyn doesn't understand, and goes racing off into traffic. A dead body is discovered undera bridge, but it's not Paul. It's the Secret Service man, whom Michael had paid to retire. DA Ron believes he was murdered.
When Jaclyn arrives at work the next day, two women greet her and she barks, "can't you two share one good morning?" It's not really a good one, because Paul is leaving. She gives him the hard push out the door, hoping that will work. "I might be unraveling, but I'm still trying. You, counselor, aren't even in the fight anymore. You don't bleed, you reminisce," he tells her. Yup, indeed the scene has turned itself around to be about her again. The dialogue that follows get so insanely clunky, it's hard to have any sympathy for either character. He says that he intends to give disappearing wife another try, maybe ending up "a suicide or a drunk," which will be fine with him because he tried, unlike her. What the hell? But wait, it all works! Jaclyn decides to "catch up with my past." Next time I have a friend in trouble, I can only hope he finds a way to talk me off the ledge with such intelligent words (sarcasm intended).
Without shoulder pads bursting from every piece of clothing but her shoes, that means Jaclyn is going to see Ken, who is "grateful and so very much in love." Their romance is rekindled so easily. When she wakes up from what was obviously a lovely evening, Ken is on the phone with political business that she is allowed to hear. Phone call done, he drags her back into bed. They recite what is essentially the same line of dialogue over and over again in various ways: they both can't believe the other is there. It's all wonderfully idyllic, even for a Vice President with people watching him (when Susan finds out, she is going to be mighty angry!). Ken gets what may be the most laughable line of dialogue in the enitre movie. He says, "Vice Presidents are not celebrities, you know, unless something brings attention to us during, say, a campaign or a funeral. Nobodies knows who the hell we are and couldn't care less." Hmmmm, that's interesting, considering the movie has spent nothing but time gushing about the Vice President, making him into the world's biggest celebrity!
Oh, both of them brought their kids. Was it smart to bring the daughter, Susan's daughter? Won't Susan be pumping her for details? Anyway, after much gooey talk, slow dancing, mist on the beach, they have to separate because Ken has to go...to a funeral! Did he know that was going to happen when he said it before? Go on! Amazing, eh? "We still have the night," Ken says, so they roast marshmallows, indoors. Folks, it doesn't get any goofier than this. Wait, it does:
Him: "No more separations. I can't say goodbye anymore."
Her: "What can you say?"
Him: "Don't know."
Her: "You really don't know, do you?"
Me: "I think even the writers have given up at this point.
With the love plot not having moved an inch since the movie started some 47 hours ago, why not go back to the courtroom? Trying her "third case in a week" against DA Ron, Jaclyn goes all mind-bending on the jury, telling them to pretend they are in her living room and Ron is horrified at how the jury falls for it. So, he uses it on their next case up against Jaclyn. She turns it around and reminds them they ARE in a courtroom, blasting DA Ron once again. As if this hasn't wasted enough time, Jaclyn baits him in the hallway, where she chides him about hating women. His assistant say he's been happily married a long time. "Has anyone asked his wife?" Jaclyn asks, using a pun from vaudeville.
Just in time, Marquesa Mama Angela Lanbsury returns. Jaclyn arrives home from work to see her teaching the kid how to play poker. Nanny and Father Mason are in deep trouble over that one, but Angela quips, "your kid has possibilities." She's been in touch with Father Mason, who tells Jaclyn, "she had business in Cleveland, so she thought she'd stop off in New York." Wait, the rich successful Marquesa has business in CLEVELAND? Anyway, just as Jaclyn is making a crack about her drinking, Angela stumbles up the stairs. She makes a few jokes and Jaclyn tells Father Mason "she just likes to be outrageous." You've met her once, twice at most, and you her behavior patterns? "You can do better than the politician, be patient," Mama says. As she scoots her way through another speech, making Jaclyn cry yet again, one wishes the beloved character actress would stick around. She says, "I'll be at the Plaza if you need me" and then corrects herself, saying it's a "sentimental habit," but I need her. Which room? Come baaaaaaaack!
Father Mason tells Jaclyn three times, making up for St. Peter, I suppose, that Angela is her mother. She is her mother. Her mother! The doorbell rings. In those pre-email days, it's a hand-delivered note that says, in total, "Not a request, but an order! The Hans Christian Andersen statue Monday, 11am. The Brother." He has awfully nice penmanship for a murderous thug. Take that, psychiatry!
Anyway, Michael Nouri gives Jaclyn a letter to deliver to give to Ken, and if not, "exposure." He forces a kiss on her. "You're in bed with the devil, enjoy," he says and blithely trots off. He hides in a tunnel in Central Park and tries to rape her, but when she tries some psychology on him, saying he's not his brother, he can't do it and leaves her sobbing, blouse torn. She calls Ken and begs to see him (it's tough to get away, since he may have to break a tie in the Senate), so they arrange to meet at a fancy event. That seems to make sense to him and he actually get her to believe the same. Susan is listening in on the extension.
Jaclyn takes to the party the most exciting man she knows, Father Mason, who comments that the hotel is hosting five other parties because "nothing stops weddings, Bar Mitzvahs and college graduations." You know, if the cut crap like that, this could have been so much less painful. He dishes on the food too, the cranky old goat. Brad is there watching her and then Vice President shows up with his wife, Linda Dano and Michael Woods. Even DA Ron is there with his wife, the punch line of that earlier joke. She's not allowed to speak.
Our darling angel is summoned to a room upstairs and if you expected Susan to be there, you would be...wrong. This miniseries ain't that smart. No, it's Ken, making excuses. "I understand, one funeral after another," Jaclyn sasses, getting quickly to the point. She hands him the blackmail letter from Michael Nouri. Ken think "it's incredible." In fact, he says, "no and no and no," just like Jaclyn knew he would and THEN cue Susan, calling her a whore, as she always does. Run her down again, Susie. Okay, it wasn't you, it was your predecessor, but that put the dame in the hospital for a good long time. Murder is even still on the table. Do it now, before they think of a "plot" for "Rage of Angels 3."
Susan urges giving into the blackmail because "the system works." Understandably, Jaclyn asks "what system?" "You have no standing in this court," Susan huffs. Objection! The dialogue is getting worse, your honor. The weakling Ken starts to cave. "There are complex issues here," he says, just like a politician. "Trust me, I'll do the right thing, I always have," he tells Jaclyn. Wait, when has he EVER done the right thing? He picks up the phone to call Michael Nouri and after everyone's eyes look at everyone else, Jaclyn storms out. He then goes downstairs to make his lofty speech about the need for art. In a miniseries sequel based on Sidney Sheldon characters. Art?
Michael Nouri coos to Philip Bosco that "it's the first time I ever talked to a Vice President. He sounded like a pompous squid." I assume he has had many experiences with squid, both pompous and otherwise in order to make such a declaration. Philip suggests Michael go on a vacation, all flush with success, but Michael still has the business of his brother's death to avenge. He then invites Brad up to his apartment because he's "too excited to sleep." Once inside, Brad shoots him in the chest, saying, "you don't kill the Vice President, it's not right." How true. It's only really been tried once, unsuccessfully. The picture of Armand Assante is now on a table right next to Brad so it can watch each successive shot, apparently ordered by Philip, though still because "it's not right to kill the Vice President." Nimrod that he is, Brad doesn't bother to make sure Michael is dead, so Michael shoots him dead and then finally collapses, bringin the picture of his brother down with him. "I'm sorry," he whispers and dies.
Paul Shenar is furious that Michael Nouri is dead, but Philip insists that it had to be done because "he sent all psycho on us." Linda offers an opinion, but Paul tells her to zip it, "playing the diplomat brings out the slut in you." Wait, what? The woman has more clothes on than a Aleut in the winter, and she's sipping tea, no less. Slut? That's a harsh (and inappropriate for the situation) word. The discussion is heated and stays heated, but cheesy, as villainspeak always is in these pieces. As soon as that scene ends, Ken and Susan see on TV that Paul has been killed in a car accident. Susan is thrilled that "it's all over...they have a happy ending and so do we." She add that he can call Jaclyn and "tell her she can live quietly. Tell her TO live quietly" in such a delightfully malevolent way.
Somehow, Jaclyn knows that Linda was "up to her ears in the whole thing" and quits the law practice, telling Father Mason that Paul Roebling is back with his wife, so he's taken care of too. The doorbell rings again. Angela is back, having dropped the kid off at school. Just as she's being all grandmotherly, she has a pain and almost passes out. The phone rings and Jaclyn has to "take it upstairs," ordering Father Mason to get Mama a "glass of water, nothing in it." "Uh, Padre," Angie stops him, sticking out two fingers. Nope. One finger. Okay, maybe. I need not say that Angela Lansbury is slumming big time here, but she's having such a blast doing it, it hardly matters. She goes over to the phone, wanting to pick it up, but apparently motherly instincts, and a picture of Jaclyn's father, change her mind. "How ill are you?" Father Mason asks, not waiting for an answer. "That's why you came home," he adds. She refuses to tell Jaclyn. "A little bourbon and my big mouth and they'll never even notice I have a cold," she grumbles.
When Jaclyn comes downstairs, Angela announces "I'm off" and tries not to ask about the phone call. "I'm not going to see him," Jaclyn says. "Good. You can vote for him! Nothing else," she notes. They hug and then Mama Angie asks where Jaclyn's father is buried. "He was a nice man, and he brought you up well. I'd like to thank him for that," she says, before launching into the overly stale bit about not remembering his name for the umpteenth time.
The kid is once again playing in the park with Nanny and Jaclyn when Ken appears, Secret Service following. He wants to resign, but Jaclyn calls her "a martyr to love" and gets downright nasty with him. She loves him, but "it has to become irrelevant...to growing up and moving on." Cliches spring up fast as she essentially blows him off, snuffing out the love affair that has been gasping for air across two miniseries. Way to kick your watchers in the groin, lady. "Don't let anyone frighten you again, you're too tall," she tells him, both crying, though Ken does it with far more conviction, probably since Jaclyn has cried herself empty.
How does it end? With Jaclyn and the kid dancing in a circle with other kids in Central Park. It's a stupid ending, but at least it ends.
Like "Lace II," "Rage of Angels: The Story Continues" is utterly pointless. However, "Lace II" had colorful characters worth seeing again, even if it was handled without any skill. "Rage of Angels: The Story Continues" has tons of polish, but nothing worth polishing. The plot is recycled (the tortured love that cannot be, the whining best friend), though what's new is inane. What the hell is Angela Lansbury doing playing an Italian Marquesa who is Jaclyn Smith's mother? Other than superb comic timing, elegance and acting ability, even Angela Lansbury has nothing to add to this story. Her character is not involved in the plot, helps solve nothing. She shows up, announces who she is, has a few light scenes and then disappears again. Poor Mason Adams is only on hand to have a heart attack and bring Jaclyn to Rome in the middle of her story so she can meet her mother, as if her mother couldn't have found an excuse to go to the US. Ken being the Vice President is a bad idea because it cheapens Jaclyn's character and gives Susan Sullivan little to play (a bit of Angela's "Manchurian Candidate" would have done her well). There are fights with DA Ron that are just scene filler. Linda Dano? What's she doing, fluffing up the resume? If there is anything here that sums up the sheer idiocy of the piece, it's Michael O'Hare's "plot." The man is brought in only to be killed...as an oops, got the wrong guy. Huh? There is truly nothing here that cries for a two-night sequel. Nothing!
And damn it, Jaclyn, lose the friggin' shoulder pads!
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