My friends, it's been a long time since we sifted our way through a World War II miniseries, and there are only about 407 more to get through, so let's just jump right into "Pearl." As in the harbor. As in you know exactly what is going to happen before we even start because we know how war miniseries work: toss a jumble of characters together with secrets and lies and them hit 'em with the war when they least expect it, unraveling all of those secrets and lies for the lucky characters who survive.
Oh, if this strikes you as at all familiar, it's because it's the exact same ado as "From Here to Eternity." "Pearl" predates the remake of the latter as a miniseries, but still steals generous helpings of it from at least the novel and the original film, both of which are classics. "Pearl," well, is not.
If you need the narration to tell you what happened at Pearl Harbor, stop reading this and pick up a book, any book. However, the narrator is there as a reminder, but awfully overzealous and flowery. "More than human life was lost that morning. A special world died too, the world of American innocents," he gravely intones. It's not untrue, but it's been said better. But, let's not think of December 7 yet. Let's go back before that.
Our narrator almost loses his breath (seriously) while describing Oahu before the attack. Not only does take great pains to list every nationality present on the island, but he insists all was utterly perfect as if the war in the rest of the world didn't matter. Well, that's a bit of historical re-invention. It was the base for a naval fleet, one that was growing and growing in anticipation of someone finally flipping the switch to enter the US into a war it would inevitably have to fight. What was going on in "this honeyed land" was years in the making; it's no coincidence that we were able to declare war the minute the Japanese bombed.
The story begins on December 4, with the Japanese fleet navigating through stormy waters somewhere in the Pacific Ocean and assembling its air force for readiness. War councils are conducted in Japanese, but that's way too boring, so we instead start to watch a bunch of flesh rumps doing the hula in extreme close-up. It's a class for the most bored and boring housewives on the island.
In comes their "social director" (named Midge), Angie Dickinson, with a mane of blonde hair. She is easily the least appealing person for that role, immediately castigating the women for not bothering to ask why they are in a hula class at 9am the day after all of them arrived on the island. One brave but very stupid woman says it's "keen to learn the hula" and she wants to "learn all the island customs." With that, Angie realizes it's pointless to talk sense and gives them back over to the hula instructor.
Then aren't a whole lot smarter, it seems, but at least they know why they are there (or think they do, at any rate). It's not to play handball, though that's how we meet Lieutenant Gregg Henry and Captain Robert Wagner, the latter head to toe in white, but somehow not sweating. Gregg is thinking of leaving the army. Uh oh, that makes him instantly unlikeable because the American miniseries is insanely patriotic. Of course, in ten minutes, we have yet to meet a character who is likable, which is strange. We should be head over heels for SOMEONE by now!
The Japanese fleet is told that though Americans are "shallow...they could prove a formidable foe." Okay, two issues. First, yes, Americans are shallow, but we should be taking personality lessons from the Japanese of 1941, trying to bludgeon the world because no one paid them any attention since we opened up their land against their will 100 years before? Second, "could" be a formidable foe? Okay, that's giving the Japanese no credit at all. Neither the Germans nor the Japanese were at all surprised by the sudden might of the war machine once it was decided to get the US involved. The minute it happened, the talk in Europe switched from how to survive to what to do with the continent after the war was over! Is there ANYONE this miniseries wants us to like or believe?
It's sure as hell not ass-kissing Sgt. Brian Dennehy, the army's most out-of-shape soldier, or Colonel Dennis Weaver, who talks while brandishing a whip just to discuss how unhappy he is with the driver RJ hired for him. Dennis is also completely humorless over a dozen jokes about the driver's name and is all pissy that his wife Angie has been making snarky remarks to the other officers' wives. She's bitter, he assumes she's drunk and they speak like they hate each other. How about Private Christian Vance, the incompetent driver with the funny last name who Dennis accuses of not liking women, the true crux of his issue with Pvt. Finger (yes, that's his funny name). "Just look at him!" Dennis snaps, because the boy is too pretty to be straight, but RJ is there to defend him, 30 years pre-Stonewall and three drinks just to get through this bizarre scene, one that has the flow of an Escher painting. By the end of the scene, well, I have not a clue what has happened. I think the pretty private still has a job.
The Japanese are given the order to attack Pearl Harbor at 8am on Sunday and be prepared to "die for our Emperor."
Awwwww. However, when she offers to give away her car for free, I'm wondering if she's not thinking of jumping off the nearest volcano. Sixth grade health class, the second way of telling a person is about to off herself--giving away possessions.
There's a ridiculous subplot going on about slot machines. Apparently, Dennis is getting back at Company A for dumping the possibly queer kid on him by impounding Company A's slot machines for his company. I wish it took just one scene to waste this time, but no, it keeps going. We have A LOT of time to kill before the Japanese arrive. The capper is a conversation RJ and Brian have about grasping for drumsticks and always being second best that has no bearing on anything other than to prove that the two men are very different. Yes, we understood that from their rank and from RJ's perfect Southern manners as compared to meathead Brian is portraying.
You didn't think we would escape more than 30 minutes without a mixed race romance, did you? Oh, come on! Our fated Romeo and Juliet here are Gregg, who grew up on the island in all of his blond splendor, and Tiana Alexander, the hospital worker/journalist Lesley Ann so unfairly slashed a few scenes ago. They went to school together, though she can't imagine how he would remember one native girl from all the others. He helps her fix a tire and she drives him to the hotel where he's both meeting his family and she's covering a Chamber of Commerce meeting. Cute, I know. Can you stand it? It's a shame they have zip in the chemistry department or it could have been a fun little scene.
Gregg's family, well, they also leave something to be desired. Papa Richard Anderson is another career soldier and Mama Marion Ross seems a bit grouchy, not to mention the requisite annoying little sister, Mary Crosby. Richard is already speaking like a haunted ghost because he has a desk job in the war he knows is coming.
Tiana gets to take in Dennis' speech where he announces "the Japanese are using Hawaii as a stepping stone to world conquest," and does so in glasses so we take her more seriously. He feels this way about Hawaii before Japanese invasion, fearing that "American culture" is being "melted" by Japanese intrusion already, a "conspiracy" as Tiana challenges him and to which he agrees. This sets him off on a tirade against in-breeding that makes him sound wowingly racist, even by the standards of 1940. Sorry, but aren't the Americans the ones who took Hawaii from Pacific Islanders? Okay, maybe the Japanese too, but they are also Pacific Islanders. The all-white audience doesn't totally buy Dennis' blather, but RJ has to run after Tiana to explain his commander. "When you print the story, don't be kind," he quips. There's that Southern charm again.
"So, how you makin' out with the new girls out here?" Mary asks Gregg. "You know your brother is engaged!" Marion reminds her. WOAH! Gregg, who just arranged to meet Tiana at the fruit market at 6am is engaged? That's news to everyone but the family, apparently. Gregg answers that by saying he's resigning his commission, moving out on his own and, naturally, not marrying this faceless girl. The conversation is WASP heaven, ending with "I'm the Scotch" from Marion when the waitress brings the beverages.
Dennis goes poking through Angie's things (spraying her perfume on his hand is either wistful or creepy) and finds a wrapped up photo at the bottom of a drawer of her...no, I'm not going to say lover...daughter. A cute little blonde kid.
Now, the story needs a nympho and obviously it has to be Angie Dickinson (Pepper Anderson notwithstanding, she did kind of make a career out of this role), who shows up to seduce Robert Wagner, which apparently she's never been able to fully do. He sidesteps her to do 50 laps in the pool (maybe Brian Dennehy isn't the most out of shape man in this movie), but she merely walks into the pool fully clothed. That's the kind of ballsy dame she is! After she kisses him, he tells her, "you don't need a part-time lover...you need a full-time friend." "What Victorian novel did you get that out of?" she asks, stealing the words from right out of my mouth! A few more cold pieces of banter and RJ resists her arms, sending her off to a hot bath with the butler. I think we have our hero! Doesn't even sleep with the boss' wife...well, not yet at least. I don't see Robert Wagner taking on any sexless roles, but let's wait and see!
That night, there is, by Pearl Harbor standards, a gala movie affair. They are showing "Gone With the Wind" and Angie is dressed for a red carpet that isn't there. "This man is new, isn't he?" she asks Dennis as the poor maybe-gay driver looks right through her upon opening the car. Wow, this minuscule plot line is already running out of steam, the poor kid.
After Dennis gives one of his usual foot-in-mouth speeches to introduce the film, he takes his seat next to Angie, who is sitting beside dry-as-dust Audra Lindley (yup, Mrs. Roper), who hopefully can't help but provide some extra good entertainment. They are rivals. The more-than-half-empty theater is treated to some war footage first, about how well England is coping with the Battle of Britain (yeah, the foreshadowing is pretty obvious). Lesley Ann bolts the theater and not only does her date run after her, but so does Robert.
The date seems unconcerned, but Robert follows her outside, noting her license plate. He's practicing for "Hart to Hart" already, I suppose.
It's finally Friday, December 5. We're getting there, folks. Slowly and totally unsurely, but getting there. Dennis is up at the bugle, showing off some rather infantile pajamas, and Angie, in her separate bedroom, snaps "another day in the trenches." I have no idea what this dame sounds like not sarcastic since that's the only way her lines have been delivered so far. Dennis wonders aloud if he shouldn't "do what Clark Gable did to Vivien Leigh," in the previous night's movie, but Angie heads him off there, finishing it with, "you wouldn't leave me," rather than letting him get any sexual ideas into his head. Instead, she goes to her mirror and utters a fantastic line! "I need four hens. Two to get by with and two to hold back the lines." Someone write that down, I love it! She is then uncharacteristically reduced to tears by the picture of the dead daughter left out by Dennis.
Poor Christian Vance is hassled with gay-themed pictures his fellow grunts have drawn and this starts a big fight. Perhaps we're inching away from micro-plotting.
We all know the reason we bothered to wake up so early was so Gregg and Tiana could meet at the market. They have "only six hours" until they each have to be somewhere. "I'll shop fast," Tania says before haggling with the merchants, smile ablaze. She makes the mistake of asking him about his family and he launches into a boring speech about wanting to leave the army and how it didn't sit well with his folks. Her incessant haggling gets annoying, but luckily both brought bathing suits, so we won't spend six hours in the market.
It didn't take Robert long to find Lesley Ann's place, and he shows up with flowers, which should be even more bizarre since they've never met. Indeed, good actress that Lesley Ann is (we're lucky to have her here, that's for sure), she is awfully perplexed, but RJ barrels his way in while she's trying to puzzle it out. Putting the flowers in water, he asks her out on a date, and somehow she agrees! With a complete stranger who has tracked her down through her license plate. This comatose woman agrees to a date for that night?
But wait, it gets better! Better!
Robert leaves and Lesley Ann decides to down a bottle of pills. She hesitates, looks at the waves, and goes to gulp when in bursts Robert. Literally! Kids, I can't make this up, this happens for real in "Pearl." And freeze, commercial.
"You're thinking, how did I know, huh?" he asks her. She doesn't answer, but I, for one, would love to know. He then goes on to actually explain how he figured it out, with a straight face that somehow she shares. If his Miss Marple routine doesn't have you doubling in half, you are a lost cause, stick with "War and Remembrance." The corniness endures as he goes back to the Greeks to explain why suicide isn't such a bad thing, which probably isn't helpful, but naturally works in this Velveeta parade.
After a brief check-in with the Japanese, RJ and Lesley Ann have graduated to a beach horseback riding session as they get to know each other. He rattles on and she's not paying any attention. He asks if she wants to hear more and she says no, but he continues. Now the actors are as oblivious as the script? She tries to escape his clutches, but he insists and orders her to stay at his house. Smart Dr. Lesley Ann somehow goes along with his program all because he promises things will be better as "you got me." Not inspiring.
For the first time, Angie shows a little bit of sadness, moaning to pal Katherine Helmond that "when I look in the mirror, I don't see myself anymore." That cliche line is from the same script as the Robert and Lesley Ann are in? War does crazy things to a miniseries. "You only come over here to complain, you don't listen," Katherine says, noting how Angie actually enjoys her battles with Dennis and will never leave him. At least this scene explains what the hell is going on with Angie and Dennis, though through LONG exposition from bratty Katherine.
We pause for a bit of history on the radio that tells us...not what you think. No, just that Washington has sent the Japanese ambassador a "ten point memorandum" about Japanese activities in the Far East and expects a reply. A forgotten fact of US entry into World War II was that negotiations were going on in the nation's capital that would have gotten us into the war at some point, but on terms far more favorable than a surprise attack that nearly clobbered the navy.
This is all going to make Gregg and Tiana's romance even more awkward because she's Japanese. The fact that she announces to the born-in-Japan family that she has a date with a white man doesn't go over any better with her family than it will with his.
That day passes very quickly because it's already December 6 (which means this day is going to take FOREVER). It starts badly, with RJ back in the swimming trunks. But, Lesley Ann is all smiles in her one-piece, followed down the beach by the butler with drinks. He offers her the entire weekend (oops), she assumes that means sex, gets pouty, but he explains it's only for "affection and support." She glumly agrees. First, though, he has to check in and headquarters and sees suspicious fire signals. He and a g-man discuss it and decide the Japanese won't make an attack (oops). The g-man is more worried about "sabotage" from the local Japanese. RJ decides to note it to Dennis anyway, but it's not taken seriously (oops). Dennis has a ball to throw that night and nothing is more important! He's doing Cole Porter proud, but it's bad news for the navy.
Privates "Gayface" Christian and Adam Arkin go over to a brothel run by...surprise...Katherine Helmond! She knows Adam well, has his usual girl ready and wants to please Christian very much, but he can't find a girl he likes and wants to "look around on my own." Luckily, he's not on driving duty because Audra and her general hubby are picking Dennis up. Angie has just bolted the premises when they show up, so Dennis has to fumble for excuses before joining them. Audra knows something is up, something more than just her eyebrow. Anyway, the current plots collide when Angie passes by sad-looking Christian on the street and offers him a ride back to the base. I guess she's gotten over her fear of him from movie night. She hasn't forgotten him, actually, just her fear, because she cracks, "you drive my husband around, I drive him crazy" as a bonding tool. Christian is so dim-witted that when Angie parks the car in a secluded spot, he wants to check a map to see where they are. "I'd forgotten things could be beautiful," she says melodramatically staring at him in the moonlight before kissing him.
"Please ma'am," he says, pushing her off.
"Please do or please don't?"
He worries about breaking the rules, as diddling an officer's wife is "second only to treason." I've not seen that in the rules anywhere, but then again, I've never attempted to write a kitsch "From Here To Eternity" knock off. She's not giving up, so he gives in. Hah! Who is gay now? You go, Christian, with a hundred violins, no less. And, all before the Japanese can interrupt.
You know what Adam likes to do with the hookers? Paint their portraits. That's disappointing! So, the only people on the island getting it on are Angie and Christian? That's unexpected. Making it worse, he's a painter-philosopher and we have to listen to the mumbo jumbo that comes with the latter (aka, a time killer). Good thing the gal he has for the night also likes to chat in that manner.
Lest we forget anything serious, Tiana brings Gregg in to meet her parents. He brings gifts, is exceedingly polite, but is, as expected, ignored. Also, as expected, he's a good sport about it. She delivers a resolute speech to her father that she respects her ancestry, but she is going out with this hunky white guy. It even turns into a civics lesson, but Pops ain't budging.
What wold a whorehouse be without a brawl? Adam's paintings come in for some jokes, so he thrashes everyone he can find. Katherine doesn't seem to mind.
The navy ball? It's a snooze. Dennis, dancing with Audra, isn't thrilled to see Gregg dancing with Asian Tiana, but he doesn't recognize her from a few days ago because, "I have trouble telling one from another." I've been waiting hours for that line. Though RJ promised he wouldn't try to have sex with Lesley Ann, he does, she panics and bolts. She finds comfort on a swing outside, going back and forth like a crazed woman as he professes his love for her. Already? When did he have time to fall in love? Was it at the aborted pill swallowing or did the swings clinch it for him? And the swings, now we're borrowing from "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?"
Gregg tells Tiana more about his boring life, but she's enough history and asks him point blank why he hasn't made a move on her. Well, he's kind of used to Asian women being "confirmed virgins or karate experts." She lets that one pass because she's damn horny and not ashamed of it. She's further turned on by his lack of experience with girls, and that's when, uh oh, he mentions the discarded fiancee. Nope, that doesn't scare her either. "Can we make love?" she asks. "When?" he replies nervously and follows with another 20 questions before finally kissing her. When a girl is that ready, what red-white-and-blue straight guy holds out so long?
Angie has no such problems. She drops Christian off and is found by Brian Dennehy. He wants money to keep it quiet, which she absolutely expected. Frankly, she's insulted at the low amount she wants so she grabs his gun and flattens his tire (the car tire, not his spare one), with a threat to kill him if he blabs. At least this character has some surprises to her. I was beginning to think the approaching Japanese were the only interesting people in the movie.
Speaking of, dawn has broken and it's December 7. Tiana greets the day at a Shinto shrine, with Gregg looking on proudly. "I'm also a Methodist," she informs him. They hear the planes, but Gregg doesn't think it could be anything important so early. Saucy Angie has been out all night and returns to a smack in the face from Dennis, which we know is pleasing to her. Robert is playing polo (polo?) when Lesley Ann comes to ask him to escort her to the boat off the island. Katherine is taking the painted girl to church, with oodles of been-there advice. In other words, no one is paying any attention to the skies above. Tension should be building, but none of these people are fascinating enough to make that happen and we know that history can't be put off forever.
It takes a nameless character to realize the planes dropping bombs are Japanese on the attack, but Lesley Ann is just getting to the reason she's been so darn upset (dead boyfriend). Take your pick, you can mute the sound because of the attack or the dialogue and you won't miss much.
Finally, the alert goes out and everyone knows what those pesky planes are really doing up there. Some are slower to react, such as Dennis, still howling at Angie as his naval base is bombed to ruins. There is always time for a pointless argument, Angie still full of quips. If you are still on mute, consider yourself fortunate. A constantly ringing phone eventually ends this scene. "We're at war," Dennis tells her. "You and I have been at war for the last 18 years," Angie clucks, still not getting it.
Some, like Gregg's father Richard Anderson, are quick to mobilize, while others get the gabs, like Adam, who has an insanely long speech while the whole navy is running around him. He even has time to answer some sex questions from Christian. That's just a blatant waste of time when we know we have tearful partings from couples like Gregg and Tiana (big kisses and he has to get to work). Oh, and Robert says out loud that he's happy for a war because it's keeping Lesley Ann on the island. That makes as much sense as anything else he's said to her, so she doesn't find it shocking.
Alas, the plot churns and so I must report the windings. At first, everyone we've met so far survives, though in various states of hysteria (Mary Crosby is particularly ripe, worrying about being raped, but veteran scene-stealer Marion Ross out-does her). Richard is the calming effect, telling his family, and thus us, that the Japanese can't land on their particular island. Maybe another, but not this one, so air raids are to be the worst of it. It sounds convincing, I suppose. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say my father planned this thing to make sure I didn't get out of the navy," his son Gregg says to mates. Just for that, the boat he's on is bombed, sending him into the water, but alive.
Dennis is excited to put some plans into action, plans someone was careful enough to draw up in case something like this happened. He mentions there will be censorship and even the bars will be closed. "Not that bars, sir!" Robert sneers, as if he has some better plan just waiting to be unfurled. Dennis warns him, "we must not take advantage of the awesome powers that are to be delegated to us," which also gets a sarcastic rejoinder from his know-it-all inferior knocking Dennis down a few pegs.
The FBI makes a beeline for Tiana's house, questioning her father's need for so many pigeons and tossing around threats. But, Tiana is understanding, agreeing that "you have to worry about such things now." Her father shows he's no traitor by killing this pigeons. One by one. In real time.
Need we guess who is the first true hero? It's RJ, of course, the marquee star. He not only saves a child from a burning house, but a Japanese child and stays around to worry about the other houses on the street while Dennis drives off to do his work. Oh, don't worry, the first time his hair gets singed, he'll forget all about the kids, even the I'm-so-noble-I-save-the-children-of-potential-enemies part of him.
It's the enlisted men who are smartest, giving their superiors great suggestions and even letting Japanese civilians help out (seems dubious, but okay). Naturally, there is must use for Lesley Ann's surgical skills, but there is a lack of help at the hospital, soon filled by...the hookers! "My girls are cleaner" than anything on the island, Katherine demands and they are allowed to help. War breaks down all barriers.
After weasel Brian Dennehy claims his jeep was hit by enemy fire (it was just Angie, remember?), Dennis is told of the mounting casualties. "Murder! Murder! By God, now we're taking control," he finally decides. A little late to the game, but still welcome. He has so many hams around him that he's stayed fairly muted, but it's a miniseries and everyone wants an Emmy. Not that anyone here stands a chance.
Our first big "uh oh" moment comes when Robert and Tiana see a bloodied and very wounded Gregg wheeled into the hospital.
(FYI, the battle scenes, which are impressive, are unused footage from "Tora! Tora! Tora!")
A very confused Angie pays a lucky cab driver $100 to drive her around, first stopping at Katherine's to hear that "a very special world around us is dying" (I'm assuming she means this is bad for her business) and then insisting on going to the naval base! "I have to do something and I'm not afraid any longer," Angie announces to Katherine, revealing what is apparently a long-dormant second personality, because we've not seen this Angie previously.
Back to the hospital. Gregg is awake and asking for Tiana, though RJ insists the soap keep bubbling, demanding to know of Lesley Ann at this particular moment, in the middle of the hospital on this day, why a girl with such smarts would try suicide. I like her reply. "Leave me alone!"
There isn't a scratch on Gregg, looking awfully fresh upon waking up and being cleaned off. "My parents will love you. I'm gonna tell them all about you," he says to Tiana, who agrees. We all know what happens to characters who promise the future in a miniseries. They don't usually live to see it. Unaware of that law, Gregg proposes and Tiana accepts, then it's off to surgery for Gregg.
Grinning and laughing, Brian is excited about the war and tells Private Christian it's for two reasons. First, the war guarantees that they need every man, so he, less than a year from retirement with his superiors trying to boot him, is safe. If that isn't enough, "you and the Colonel's slut," is his ace in the hole. "I know you're a lot bigger than I am, but I don't care. I'm not going to let you call the Colonel's wife what you just did and get away with it," Christian says after abruptly stopping the car. I'm not sure which part he objects to really, but Brian says they will discuss it later, causing Christian to go on a free-wheeling car zoom that scares the hell out of Brian. They go off the side of the road and Brian escapes before the car blows up, four or five explosions. At that moment, Adam Arkin drives by and is pulled away from the wreckage like a horrified boyfriend.
And thus, we our first cast casualty, one that owed nothing to the Japanese directly, making it seem more than a trifle trite.
Gal-on-a-mission Angie forces her way onto the naval base, full of bluster and threats in her first serious speech of the piece (the soldier she humiliates in this scene gets to take out his aggression on a Japanese telegram delivery boy who has a coded message for the general, though he lets him through anyway). Dennis is busy reading Brian the riot act for not getting to the printer on time, though Brian does have a good excuse. "Has my car been damaged?" is Dennis' first question. Yup, and so has your driver. "I told [Robert] that homo can't drive!" Dennis replies, only THEN finding out that Private Christian is dead. Brian is haunted by the episode, but Dennis has war fever and finds this all just a fiasco. "I will not permit madness to infect my section!" he demands, oblivious, as always. "It won't happen again, sir" Brian replies, as stoically as possible with a lunatic for a superior.
Angie and her cab driver somehow get to the landing strip where the second wave of Japanese aircraft is devastating the planes by not only shooting them but crashing into them to create huge fires. Angie is horrified at what she sees, but the cab driver seems more than happy to let her sit and watch.
Upset at losing his special friend, Adam tells his superior about the whole debacle and when asked if he's okay, Adam loads on the heavy New York accent and avows, "nothin's gonna kill me, not you, not this stinkin' army!" Perhaps not, but the storyline and bad acting might.
Thrilled now, Dennis loves barking orders and issuing commands. RJ is there when he says any Japanese sympathizers can get the death penalty. So, very slowly, Robert lays into him, defending the actions of all the brave Japanese people living on the island. Dennis decides to counter this with "an old Hawaiian proverb," and wait until you hear it: "the canoe is not swamped by the outside wave, but by the inside wave." WHAT? What is an inside wave in a canoe? That does not end the scene, alas. Robert continues to argue, even asking for "an apology on our part, a sense of regret, not a sense of joy at the prospect, not elation." An apology to whom? No one has been arrested yet. Sure, the FBI looked at Tiana's dad and his birds, but no one rounded him up. "Are you accusing me of enjoying this tragic day?" "I'm your exec, sir, not your accuser." "I'll expect you to remember that at all times," Dennis says, having gone far more bonkers with power than perhaps even Captain Kurtis. The scene only concludes when Dennis orders Robert to inform all the bordellos that there is a curfew and anyone in violation could be shot. Sure, kill off the last vestiges of pleasure left on the island, blame the hookers! They've been busy wrapping bandages all day, if anyone cares to remember. They will be too tired at night anyway.
So, off Robert dashes to Katherine Helmond's establishment, apparently deciding she's keenly interested in his rhetoric about "personal freedom" and some other rot that is obviously some writer's personal passion yet doesn't particularly belong here. It works. "Captain, after a speech like that, whatever brought you, the house is yours!" Katherine says, fluttering her eyelids at his Southern charm but no doubt hoping her next film role is better. His new rules are that she operate in the daytime and install blackout curtains. "The whole town will become a red light district," Katherine portends. You see, she's not at all scared by the military, because she feels that making a ghetto of the neighborhood will cause more girls to come and soon she will have to "expand" to streets with "decent families." Never try to best a Madam, they will ALWAYS win. "I suspect you're right," he tells her. "I'm always right. I wish to hell I weren't." Why? You've done pretty damn well for yourself, thriving business, big house on the beach. It doesn't seem so bad.
In case you're wondering, Driving Miss Angie is still happening. She finds her way to a meeting of the all the war wives, where Audra is yowling in a fury of patriotism, firing off false information. "Why don't you stop blowing it out! For once in your life, why don't you start dealing with the truth?" Angie demands to know of a character who has never been accused of lying. He'll she hasn't had five lines total so far! Audra thinks she's protecting the women from the truth, but Angie, all bug eyed with reports from the naval base, tells them what she's seen, the fires, the planes and ships gone. "The days of hula lessons and bridge socials are over! The Japanese just blew them away!" Angie shouts. "If I were a man, I would knock your head off! You are nothing but a disgusting tramp," blares Mrs. Roper. "We all know that you are a drunk and that I sleep around," Angie agrees, still insisting that the wives deserve the truth.
Once the Americans take to the air things don't instantly improve. The Japanese are still on the offensive, trained and ready. Planes from both sides are destroyed with guns blazing, but eventually, the Japanese disappear back to the Pacific and we're left to pick up the pieces of the plot.
First, Lesley Ann has to deliver the news to Tiana that Gregg died on the operating table. Tiana wants to see the body and Lesley Ann hugs her, slowly walking her to the body as a nurse with a pile of dog tags leads them to the body. He looks just as hunky as ever, his face completely unharmed. "Talk to me!" Tiana cries to the body, while Lesley Ann is feet away breaking down (again). Once again, only because Lesley Ann Warren is such a capable actress does she come off as believable here, rather than just a victim of horribly bad characterization.
Gregg's family doesn't know yet. Marion and Mary have barricaded themselves in their hotel room (much to the consternation of the maids, since they have left the "please make up room" sign on the door but deadbolted it from the inside). Mary keeps howling in hysterics as Marion spins fanciful stories of what the Japanese might be doing to everyone (with the backdrop of palm trees and the beach behind her). Robert does his best to comfort his wife, though it's not particularly good news that he has gotten himself commissioned to Pearl Harbor. He's sending his family back to the mainland, but Marion refuses to go. She won't leave the island where Japanese servants are apparently poisoning hot chocolate?
And then the phone rings. Mary and Marion guess the news before Robert even puts the headset down.
The hooker Adam has been painting (Char Fontaine) somehow is able to drive out to the beach where the grunts are waiting for Japanese ships, so she can talk to Adam. The sarge in charge is baffled that the hookers are following them. "We've always been camp followers, back to the Greeks and the Persians," she schools him. "Yeah, and look what happened to the Greeks and the Persians," he replies, as if ladies of the night did in those empires. Rome? Maybe, but not the Greeks and the Persians. He relents and Adam gets five minutes with Char, as the rest of the men hoot encouragingly. She wants him to paint her again...at home, where she has to be, alone, at night. She even gives him the key to her home. He clearly does not get that she has a crush on the lug, but he agrees to go. "Make it soon, okay?" she says, like a demure girlfriend (in her demure yellow dress buttoned up demurely to the neck). I hope this is leading somewhere, because the crawling pace has returned to "Pearl" just when it's time to wrap things up.
When Tiana shows up at Robert and Marion's room, Marion is suddenly very welcoming and sweet to her. Tiana explains the act of bravery Gregg committed that caused his death that brought down a Japanese bomber. She explains how good the medical staff was to him and how hard they tried to save him. Marion clings to her with a most motherly embrace.
True to the order, the Japanese are rounded up from monasteries and graveyards. "Every dog on the island," Dennis barks over the phone to someone questioning the orders. Robert is not pleased to see Buddhist priests and "simple fisherman" treated in this manner. He asks to be relieved of his duty to Dennis and wants combat duty because he can't countenance what Dennis is doing. Dennis turns it into a rambling discussion about Robert's family money, dreaming up a notion that Robert's family has a plantation with servants, like the Civil War just started, not World War II. He clearly has an inferiority complex going. Robert listens with all the zest of a stand-in as Dennis blows out the bile, demanding that Robert remain, refusing to ever let him go, promising, "I am going to break you."
Pause for a sec. Okay, this sort of plot revelation is actually interesting, because it gives Dennis' character some depth, but unfortunately, it comes out of nowhere. There has been absolutely no indication anywhere else in the saga so far that Dennis grew up poor resenting rich people, most particularly his aide. They certainly have never liked each other, but the writers here should have made it clear, at least to us, a lot earlier what the stick up Dennis' ass was all about. At this point, he's coming off as a raving racist nutcase when this could be a moment to show how a character's whole life of pent-up jealousy and hatred is being taken out on innocent civilians just because of their race. How can we be expected to have anything but utter competent for this character now? He's played the buffoon for the entire movie up to this point, and now suddenly he does everything but twirl his mustache to become the ultimate villain, the embodiment of every apologizing nobility this movie has wanted to display when it comes to race relations (remember, it's 1978 when it was made, so this is not really about Asians and Caucasians, this is much larger in the context of the racial tensions of the 60s and 70s).
Unpause. Robert reacts to this by rescinding his offer to resign his position, "because nothing is more important than this, this war between us. I promise you, sir, if I just once find you stepping beyond the powers you now enjoy, just once, violating any law, any regulation, I shall use that against you on behalf of a country and an army I believe in, despite men like you," Robert says slowly and methodically, mistaking pretend earnestness for good acting, but helped by the patriotic music played under the scene.
At the sink after surgery, a very impressed doctor tells Lesley Ann he wants her to stay on because she has been such a great help. She's, as usual, in a world of her own, turning to him with a big smile and saying, "I cried today!" with triumph before rushing out. Very good, doctor! How about tomorrow we learn our colors? She then puts on her civvies, trying not to let the grief of everyone else at the hospital ruin her insta-happiness and hops in her car.
The Japanese aren't exactly overwhelmed with glee themselves, feeling that though they sent out two very important runs that virtually decimated Battleship Row, it wasn't honorably done (they hit first at 7:55 AM, five minutes before the declaration of war--maybe their watches were just fast, calm down already!). The commander feels "we have succeeded only in awaking a sleeping giant." You didn't think of that before? Come on, let's not be dishonest to history here, people. As I said earlier, everyone on earth knew the US was mobilizing, it just needed an actual reason to get into the war and the Japanese were the part of the Axis who gave it to them.
"Last stop," Angie finally tells her long-suffering driver. "You've been a brave and cheerful companion, aloha," Angie adds, as if the day has been all about getting to know a stranger. She passes Brian on the way into see Dennis, baiting him a bit and then offering apologies to Robert. "What's happened to you?" Robert understandably asks after she delivers her speech. "Pearl Harbor, I don't know." Lady, we don't know either. Her second apology to him is in advance of what she's going to say to Dennis, telling him everything. She orders him to follow her and to bring Brian as well. "What is this?" Robert asks. "Pearl Harbor, my version." Angie's two personalities are colliding and I'm afraid. So is Robert, clearly.
Understandably, Dennis finds her visit a bother, but when Robert and Brian enter, he has no choice but to put the war on hold and deal with her. And then comes the BIG speech. She starts with the dead daughter and explains how she died, a story none of the other men knows (why should they know?). She turns from zealous prosecuting attorney into crying lump. Regaining her composure, she forges ahead. The ramble makes very little sense at this point. Sure, we need to finish Angie's plot, but as with Dennis earlier, there have been very few clues, not enough to warrant this grandiose episode and the sheer amount of time it takes. "I'm leaving you...just three little words," she announces, continuing with another of her infamous animal metaphors, "we're like two old horses, joined at the hip, side by side pulling at a junk wagon, just going along, day after day, year after year, picking up more junk and pretty soon, it's not each other we feel, it's the weight we're pulling. I'm unhitching us..." She confesses to trying to seduce Robert and insists Brian tell what he saw. Brian now gets his big acting chance, but Robert whips out his gun and offers to shoot Brian. How about the director instead? Leaving a grade A mess in her wake, Angie grabs her purse and says, "well, I'm going. God forgive me how good I feel!" She brings back the "Gone With the Wind" parallel, exiting with Rhett's final line and slamming the door. This is the most insane scene yet, I suppose inevitable, but so badly handled. I can't even find anything else to say. "Pearl" is its own worst enemy.
Dennis is left alone in his office with a stack of paperwork as he dissolves into a quaking crying mess himself.
That would leave just Lesley Ann, who managed to onto the base as the curfew is about to take effect. Some grunt tries to get her to go, but it seems Angie's grand exit wasn't enough to end her character's participation. Leaving the building, she's recognized by Lesley Ann and insists the soldier take her to see Robert. Never mind, he's coming out of the building at that moment anyway. She gets to tell him the FULL story of her misery. It's rather anti-climactic, and more than a touch bonkers, but at least it's acted well...or, in context, better. "They asked me to stay at the hospital, but that depends on you. Do you want me to stay?" "Oh my God, yes!" Robert replies and his dirty body gets a hug and giant kiss.
Roosevelt's declaration of war to Congress is played as all of the characters listen. The narrator returns (I was hoping he wouldn't, but whatcha gonna do?) to tell us "nothing was ever the same again."
It's just stupid! Second-hand stupid. "Pearl" has no reason to exist other than to copy "From Here to Eternity" and doesn't even do it well. The characters are a jumble of non-existent plots and horrendous acting and the script might have been better suited to more than five hours because there is so much going on, yet none of it at all important. How one can actually manage to trivialize the events of December 7, 1941 is beyond me, but that is the only thing at which "Pearl" succeeds.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Malibu (1983)
"Malibu" boasts one of the best miniseries casts of slumming vets ever...and manages to waste them all! Well let's be fair it's "Malibu" that is so hysterically awful that the vets don't have much chance of shining, but they do their share of contributing to the glop of it all. Notably, they are matched by the younger generation, every bit as bad, which guarantees slumming vets in the future (if the miniseries should ever return).
It all starts with Anthony Newley singing the title song with his usual brand of hokum, though this is not "What Kind of Fool Am I?" or "Who Can I Turn To?" which he wrote for his personal style to charm the back of the balcony. In fact, "Malibu" premiered as Tony was about to crash and burn in his final attempt at a Broadway musical, playing Charlie Chaplin in a show he wrote as well, which opened, closed and was never heard from again, only miles up the coast from Malibu itself in Los Angeles. "Have you been to paradise? The people there are very nice" is the first lyric, followed by some scooped Malibuuu-uuu-uuuu refrains as aerial footage shows us all of the picturesque locale. So, we have firmly established as the credits end that we are in the land of glitzy cheese. Step lively folks, if you stand still too long, that cheese is like quicksand and you won't ever be able to escape!
Malibu's best real estate agent is...wait for it...hold...it's coming...Kim Novak! In one the American miniseries' most unfortunate wigs, she's on the phone cooing to a client when in walks George Hamilton, writing "I'm a live one $" to get her off the phone. He's a conman, in case you didn't get that from his flashy car, flashy suit, flashy smile. He's in "investments." "Think of me as your seeing eye dog," he inexplicably tells Kim as an explanation of how good he is at that nondescript job. He claims to be in the market for a house, something along the lines of a million dollars, so Kim jumps out of her swivel chair and heads off with him. She knows he's a phony, but she goes along with him anyway.
Let's meet some of the locals. Or perhaps have them meet each other. While everyone else is romping in the sand in bikinis, Ann Jillian is in a sweater and pants, stopping in front of James Coburn's house where they lock eyes. Something about his cigar smoking has her cocking her head so far it's liable to snap, but she moves on. Having some grub in a restaurant are Jenilee Harrison, doing her best dumb blonde act (I think it's an act) with distracted Richard Mulligan who, upon hearing that Jenilee feels both of eyes are of sound sight, remarks, "everything you have two of is perfect." He's a writer in the movie business, but apparently not that successfully, and no wonder if that's his best material. Playing tennis are Chad Everett and Valerie Perrine, the former in a tighter outfit than the latter.
Anthony Newley saunters into the restaurant, and Richard Mulligan pounces, trying to schmooze the powerful man who is so important he wears his jacket over his shoulders rather than with his arms in it, as if it's not 400 degrees in Malibu.
I'll hand it to George Hamilton, he plays the suave slime ball exceedingly well (okay, fine, it's the only role he ever played). He offers $750,000 on the $3 million house Kim shows him, offering to rent it for $3K (she counters with $8500 and he agrees), telling her when asked again that his business is "making everybody, but you and me, a little bit poorer" and then chirping that if the bedroom ceiling "cannot hold a mirror, the deal is off." He then gives her an admitted rubber check and for some reason she takes it.
Kim has some actual paying clients too, new-to-California Susan Dey and her husband William Atherton, from Wisconsin, looking for sun and sand for the summer while the kids are at camp. The rental she shows Susan (before William arrives) is right on the beach, with the sound of the waves. "Two months of that beats two months of therapy. You ever been in therapy?" Kim asks, as if it's a perfectly natural question from a) a realtor and b) from someone you just met. Kim schools Susan in the "ambiance" of Malibu and gives her a whole raised-eyebrow routine, though unfortunately, her eyebrows are hidden by her wig, descending lower and lower in each scene. When William arrives, he doesn't want the dump she's showing. He wants "the colony," where all the movers are shakers reside. She takes them to a swank place and continues in her line of wacky sales techniques by sitting in a rocking chair while the couple argues about it. They can't really afford it, but William is set on it and convinces Susan they should go for. "Darling, it's so long since we've had any fun...I'm not talking about pleasure or satisfaction, I'm talking about fun! Doing crazy irresponsible things because we felt like it," he tells her and admits that though they are not wealthy, "faking it can be fun too." Plus, Troy Donahue lives next door, which dazzles them. "A movie star here is like a CPA in Osh Kosh," Kim blithely notes. Plus, Troy Donahue lives next door (the real Troy Donahue, shown only from afar).
Being in "the colony" allows Susan and William access to the club, where Chad Everett turns out to be a tennis instructor Susan remembers from him professional career. Susan gets invited to parties with bold-faced names. Meanwhile, the longing looks between James and Ann could be the chance she needs to boost her career as a journalist. If she can get him on her show, which no one else can do, she will go network! But how to get him? How? How?
Kim hosts a dinner party for Valerie, Ann, Susan and William, which also includes the local flamboyant man in an ascot, Richard McKenzie (playing a character named Honeycutt in a role that really should have gone to Roddy McDowell). Susan, with her perfect memory, knows not only Chad's career stats, but every word author Richard has ever written. "The only reason I would ever have an affair with you is to find out if you ever keep your mouth shut," yells Valerie, having left the dinner table for the Jacuzzi next to it, sans clothing. "He doesn't," Kim offers. Wait, he's slept with them? Two women? Even worse than Susan's ability to be annoying by rote, she even offers to help Kim with the dishes.
During a walk on the beach, Valerie confesses a deep dark secret to William. "I've never had an affair with an astronaut," she tells him. So much for deep thinking. "I want to be an astronaut," William flirts before they they head into the water, much to Susan's annoyance. It's going to be one hell of a summer, kiddies!
Ann decides to stop by James and Eva Marie's house, where Eva Marie graciously welcomes her because she recognizes her from television. Ann has a whole speech prepared about how her viewers care for "important issues." Eva Marie still doesn't get it until Ann mentions Eva Marie's passion for environmental issues, when she knows for sure Ann wants James and not her. Apparently Eva Marie and her gang have wanted on the show forever, and have been turned down, so the jig is up for Ann. She'll have to find another way.
Steve Forrest has the least masculine beach run style in Malibu, stopping in front of Susan's place where she is thrilled that a movie star wants to come up for a cold drink. Maybe she can get used to this!
Now it's time for Ann's new trick. Knowing James has a lesson with Chad (who has shorts so tight it borders on porn), she has Chad paged and steps onto the court. Since James has already taken a shine to her just from seeing her once, he's more than happy to pay with her, despite the Greek goddess outfit and headband. James knows who she is and knows that Ann had been given the boot by Eva Marie. "I still don't give interviews," he says as they volley and trade bad puns. She takes a girlish slip on the court, requiring careful walking and lunch with James. It's an exceedingly painful scene, one that runs on way too long as they continue with the puns, they just aren't sexual this time (well, not all of them). Dazzled by her sexiness and vamping, he almost cracks. However, he's smarter than she is and knows all along there's been a tape recorder running. After destroying the tape, he asks to have lunch with her again.
If you thought Ann's scenes with James were painful, get a load of the interview she actually does with fey Richard for her show. He speaks like Truman Capote, though not at all witty or particularly observant, just seemingly putting words together to force quips. After he describes his "ideal woman," she tears into him, asking, no demanding, that he come out of the closet. He sputters and storms to the camera, trying to block it. That ought to help her career, but dinner parties will be awkward this summer!
Battling a dog and his own velvet jumpsuit, Richard tries again with Anthony at the latter's house. Then he has to battle with a British butler. He can't fool the dry valet, but he does get the script inside the door at least. This is the comedy plot and it's already tired.
Impressed with Ann's interview with Richard, James calls her for a beach walk, which is not pleasing to Eva Marie, overhearing the phone conversation. He offers to take her to a hotel, which she doesn't mind at all, saying that "if we are going to have a relationship, it has to be honest." She was smart for two scenes and now she's back to dumb again, though that's okay because he's struck dumb by Cupid's arrow.
Steve, wearing the same revealing shorts as Chad, but in a different color, takes Susan for a walk on the beach, regarding her like a hungry wolf, and then invites her to his bedroom to watch his old movies. He tries every trick to get her into the bed, but she won't even get onto it, sitting on a bench instead. "We should be making love, not talking," he says when she brings up his wife. "Maybe talking is more fun," she replies. He gets her in a clinch and pulls her to the bed, but she pushes him off and dashes out. So, he goes back to watching one of his movies. Hey, it's easier than calling a hooker or lifting weights.
Ann has a dilemma. Her producer and crackpot team of investigators have, in just one day, managed to dig up all the dirt on James' law career, including a Mr. X, who will be interviewed, but only anonymously. Everyone is excited, but Ann can't join in. You see, let's say it all together, she's fallen for James. Since yesterday.
Valerie Perrine has the corniest line of the movie when, watching James and Ann in a double match (which is so poorly faked and uses so much repeat footage that I hope the stand-ins were well paid), turns to her partner, George Hamilton and wonders if they can beat them. "Piece of cake," he answers. "I think you've been in the sun too long," she says. They both do a double take to make sure the line is hammered home. Yes, we get the George Hamilton in-joke. We're smarter than the creators of "Malibu," so we chuckled, kind of, when it was said. They then go to Ann's have sex and she shows him the footage they have shot for the show about him, even mentioning Mr. X. Whose side is she on anyway? "Any good lawyer would kick you out of bed," he says before kissing her again. They banter, and it seems Ann is out of her league. James has been at this a lot longer, but he figures he can trip her up an still bag the babe.
When Richard arrives home to find Jenilee not there, he panics and somehow figures out she's with her friends, a rock group playing insanely loud music with lots of 80s guitar riffs while the girls dance with their arms in that style that hopefully will never come back. Since he can't be heard inside, we have to groan through a pantomime routine until she leaves, only to pout in the car as he yells at her. "Don't speak to me...I am not a poodle!" she insists. "Yes and no, poodles can be very lovable," he replies. A horrible comic scene full of voices and jokes and everything terrible follows before we find out he's broke (as if we hadn't guess that yet by the cheap lunches and paint peeling off the house). Jenilee has bought herself a riding outfit. "You don't have to ride to have a riding outfit," she tells him. What the hell are these two doing? I can't believe I like the cuckoo drama more than the cuckoo comedy.
It's the night of Valerie's big party. Everyone is there. Eva Marie spends her time chasing James, threatening him that he's in for it if he flaunts his affair at the party. Susan gets smashed to avoid having to mingle sober because she thinks William and Valerie are having an affair, Anthony promises stardom to young actresses, an ancient authoress takes up everyone's time. Valerie and George are tennis partners, though Kim is suspicious of him. Jenilee tries her best to keep up with everyone's conversations, but that's not likely, possibly spoiling every attempt Richard makes at networking.
To fill time, there are encounters such as this head scratcher: blonde 20something actress (and I use the term loosely because she can barely get out a line) Monique St. Pierre asks Susan, "if you had the choice between an iffy Broadway play and six months in 'The King and I,' which would you do?" Huh? I suppose that depends on the roles. In "The King and I," what would she be? There are three female roles and she's not Asian enough for two. Susan comes down on the side of 'The King and I," naturally. Susan overhears Valerie and the ancient authoress talking about Valerie's new boyfriend, so that's when she bumps into Chad Everett, inevitably Mr. Right Now. He offers her lessons, "if you want me to" he says with matinee idol grandeur.
What always happens at these parties where the entire cast is assembled? Violence! Eva goes to tear James away from Ann, Richard does the same with Jenilee and then William slugs Steve Forrest, who has just entered the party dressed for a safari. "Keep the juices flowing, the fun's just beginning," Valerie says before the entire cast does reaction shots to William that lead to freeze frames flattering to absolutely none of them. It is truly the most bizarre ending of a first part I can remember. But, it's no less witless than anything else that's been done, except I'm sure it was considered "creative" at the time.
The morning after...
Valerie descends the stairs slower than Norma Desmond because she's so hungover and Steve has apparently slept over. He wants to sue William for decking him, because "it could delay production on my new series." "You don't have a new series," Valerie reminds him. "It's in the works."
Susan has no hangover and she drank the most. She can even manage a tennis lesson with Chad, who tells her "no time spent with you is wasted" as she shows a stunning inability to pick up the fundamentals of the game. When Chad and Susan leave (the former to follow Susan, which pisses off James, who can't have his lesson), there is one of those continuity errors that are so much fun to see. Chad is wearing a completely different color outfit than seconds previously. In the romance department, Chad might be considered lacking as he remembers past match points that did not go his way instead of anything lovey dovey. He is earnest, one can't deny that, giving the same performance he always does, and sticking to it. When Susan admits that her attempt at college acting didn't work, and her professor had a particularly biting remark about her Blanche DuBois (that would be the fault of whoever cast the production--can anyone imagine Susan as Blanche? Neither can I, and apparently she also played Lady Macbeth), Chad ever-so-seriously notes, "maybe my line judge became your assistant professor." Susan doesn't even flinch at that howler of a line. The scene drags on and on, with Chad's monotone getting even worse with his take that one can't worry about the future, "fatalistic ballyhoo," he calls it. At times it seems he's flirting with her, but because his vocal and facial expressions never change, it's impossible to tell for sure. Even Susan looks confused (and sleepy).
Blame it on the Midwest, I suppose, but after even 25 seconds of lunch with George Hamilton, William still doesn't realize he's about to be scammed out of oodles of money.
When a very furious Kim Novak shows up at George's place with his bounced check, he's telling a mover, "don't you know the difference between a real Matisse and a fake Matisse? The fake is a lot harder to paint," and then gives her the jibber jabber as he attempts to lower her to the bed. She's not buying. He gives her another check, but she's not that stupid (the only person in the movie who can claim that) and wants cash. He hands her the $8K check William had just given him. She knows whatever he's sold William is phony, and he admits it too, though claiming it's a good lesson for the guy to learn. George continues to fleece her, telling her of a grand plan to get James' money before they kiss over the kitchen counter. A apologize, I was in error previously: Kim is a stupid as everyone else in the movie.
William has become so entranced by Malibu (as the title song predicted), that he starts to get a bit bug-eyed and fixated, telling Susan he wants to move there, despite all of her very real and practical reasons why they can't (the kids, the cost, etc.). "You know what this place has done to us!" Susan barks.
Pause for a second. We've been through half the movie with only a suggestion that either William or Susan has cheated, but nothing definitive. They haven't had enough screen time to have changed THAT much.
Un-pause. The yelling continues and Susan wants to know what the hell is happening to them as a couple (the rest of us really don't care, so stop shouting). "Let's pack up and leave today!" she begs. "I want to stay," Bug Eyes retorts. "Our marriage won't survive it!" she insists. This is a lovely course in the basics of banal dialogue, but it ends on a laugh-riot exit line for William: "If it's so flimsy it can't stand up to perfect weather, then perhaps it shouldn't survive!" I think perfect weather is either the #4 or #5 biggest causes of divorce, right? I'll have to consult an almanac to be sure.
Already-has-an-Oscar Eva Marie and will-eventually-have-an-Oscar James Coburn (both of which should be taken away for "Malibu" alone) have a nasty battle over breakfast where Eva Marie demands he give up Ann, spitting words like "cheap" and "tawdry" and threatening to kill Ann (with what, your expensive handbag?), James says "no you won't. You're against all forms of violence, they'll remove you from all of your precious committees." As she's arguing with shrill diction, George interrupts the argument with some of his con artist shtick, which both seem to actually go for.
Not realizing there is a price on her head via mobster granny Eva Marie, Ann watches what turns out to be a disastrous interview with Mr. X, who, as James predicted, would not reveal any details. Wouldn't it have been smarter to actually show the interview happening and Ann reacting to it live? Doing it this way, Ann is forced to sit and watch it like she's seeing it for the first time. She's not, considering she was there! "I don't like being made a fool of!" Ann growls at her producer. "Hey, we lost," he says. "I don't want to lose, not to someone who fights dirty!" she snaps Wait, isn't that how she's been playing all along? She also realizes she may have told James a little too much. You think? You know, if I were a crusading journalist who wanted to jump to the network and was just quashed by a powerful man, I know to whom I would go to rectify that. Of course, his angrier-than-Medea wife! Well, there is the problem of Ann being the cause of Eva Marie's anger, but perhaps they can sort that out. Let's see what happens. It seems obvious enough to you or me, but this is "Malibu" after all, a colony full of rampaging morons.
Her producer, walking out, says, "maybe the Pope will visit Disneyland and you can get an exclusive." Ah, yes, kick her with sarcasm when she's down. Ann is then forced to deliver an Emmy-baiting bit (onto which no one could possibly chomp), with tears welling as she says, "I don't like losing, I never did. And I never will!"
While jogging on the beach, William sees Valerie (a mere Oscar nominee) at her French windows, which she leaves open. He takes that as a cue and goes inside looking for her. He doesn't just look for her, he scours the place, going through every room on the first level, with the camera in tow to make a viewer almost car sick from the journey. She's naked in yet another Jacuzzi upstairs. They flirt for a while, where she asks him point blank if he wants to have sex, but they also catch us up on some plot points that we didn't miss because we're watching the damn thing. With bubbles gliding around her, she informs him that George's financial deals are fake and that he only used her name to get William to throw in his money. "I think young executive just lost his shirt," she says. "I think young executive is going to attack lady in hot tub," he replies, pulling off his shoes. Did they both have strokes, leaving them unable to speak in complete sentences?
Alas, Susan is not in San Francisco, as she told William she would be. No, she's in a cheap motel in post-coital confusion with Chad. "I guess not too many people come to motels to look at the paintings," Chad says, in the same voice as always, after Susan dumps on the art work. Again, I think he's actually saying it seriously, but we'll never know for sure. Rain Man Susan has another one of those perfect recall moments when she tells Chad that "according to statistics, 35% of people who stay in motels are having affairs." "Shouldn't that be an even number?" he asks, as if he knows an even versus an odd number. Chad believes they are now officially together and proposes marriage, still serious and wooden.
Oh, and Chad also needs money to start up a sportswear company, but he's short of the money needed. One might expect him to sweet talk it from his new lady love, but she's broke. He plans to go after James, just like everybody else.
Remember Jenilee and Richard? I know, you were hoping they had disappeared completely. Jenilee drags him to meet her young friends, who say they love the script and want to shoot it, though with many changes. Since they have the cash to finance it, he has to go with their changes. The main change is to make the 57-year old bank president into a 20something elevator operation at the Empire State Building who even has a way to work a band into the story. Richard's confusion upon leaving is completely understandable as that was one crackpot scene. An elevator operator? In 1983? Will the sequel concern a Fotomat employee in 2006, an equally extinct job?
"What exactly is your price...women like you charge, don't they?" Eva Marie asks Ann, accosting her in a parking lot. And then BINGO, my prediction comes true (because clever plotting is completely absent from "Malibu"). Eva Marie offers Ann all the dirt she has on her husband if Ann will leave James. Will Ann choose love or ambition?
George convinced James to wager on their mixed doubles tennis final, knowing full well he could never win, and also knowing that club rules allow for a replacement (he fakes an injury), and that replacement can be anyone, including former pro champ Chad Everett! Chad feels it's "inappropriate," but George and Kim, who is in for a share, convince him.
Even the filthy rich shop for groceries. That's where Jenilee finds Anthony (now a sweater over his shoulders), bumping into him on purpose, so klutzy that, as Richard says, she would knock down the "Leaning Tower of Pizza." Wow, there's a fresh joke. Her flirting, whether real or not, of course works.
It should be a problem for James to now give money to Chad for his new business, right? They will be on opposite sides of the court. James has a plan, of course, but Chad doesn't realize it, as one would suspect of this lobotomized patient. James dances around it for a while and agrees to give him the money, though it takes extra long for Chad to realize he's supposed to throw the match for the money.
Anthony had no idea that the man Jenilee was raving about was dorky Richard, who flies over to Anthony's house. Anthony agrees to direct the picture, but he wants changes and here's the twist: Anthony wants to make the script YOUNGER and use the band that Richard has already seen. Isn't that cute? Someone kill this plot soon...please!
Boring though he may be, there is something moral in Chad. He goes home to tell his wife not to come watch the match. She assumes he's having an affair, but "don't tell me, not in this robe and not with my hair up like this," as if the news will have a better impact with a change of hairdo. No, no, nothing like that, he merely tells her he's going to throw the match. THEN he lowers the boom about his new love, saying he wants "a new kind of life, and with that money this afternoon, I can make it happen." "Is she worth it?" "I'd tank in the finals at Wimbledon if she were second prize," he says of Susan, whom he's known for a few days. When he tells his wife Susan will be there, she decides she'll be at the match as well.
Tennis, anyone? When we join the match, James and Ann are up and Chad is playing so badly that when he misses a shot, William clucks, "I could have hit that one!" Once again, check out the close-ups, as they are obviously shot indoors, obvious both in look and sound. Kim is mighty worried, with money at stake. Valerie isn't happy either, especially when Chad double faults on a set point. "I have a lot of money riding on this game...I bet my shrink $50 we would win this thing!" she tells him. I think that's supposed to be funny, so laugh. Or not. Get a load of the extras too, as they have to spin their heads this way and that pretending to watch tennis. Fed up spectating at such a horror, Chad's wife leaves, and when he sees her open seat, he's confused. Or so the music tells us, Chad isn't that good an actor. He knows what he has to do...which is play his best and win! He's morality has returned.
And so has his game. He roars back, winning every point in a flashy quick-moving sequence where the teams go into the third set tied. James is hopping mad and Ann gets pissy too. At home, Eva Marie smashes a mirror (she's exempt from seven years of bad luck for having slogged through "Malibu" with a kernel of dignity).
Chad serves for match point. It's an ace. Game, set, match.
"Let's go, it's all over," William says to Susan as everyone is filing out. If only he knew. "You lost, you really lost!" James tells Chad menacingly. George and Kim are happy. At least someone is.
Susan goes to Bridget Hanley, Chad's wife with all of the hair problems. She knows before Susan can tell her that he won the match. "I saw where he was looking every time they changed court," Bridget notes to Susan, but Susan reminds her that by winning, he gave up his dreams of a new life. "He tried to throw that match and he couldn't...I think it was because he didn't want to lose you," says the world's worst mistress, Susan Dey. There is an attempt at a plot twist here, when Bridget tells her that Chad does this "every summer," finally an explanation for her worry-free attitude. Next summer, "I hope the woman is as nice as you," Bridget adds. Awww, what an understanding wife! I guess when your hubby's other woman is a milquetoast lump like Susan's character, you don't get too upset.
As if losing the tennis match isn't bad enough, Ann tells James she is going forward with her dirt-digging piece. "Atta girl," James says, impressed, but maybe a trifle displeased. Cue the telephone, a call for James from Eva Marie, who has just taken enough pills to off the whole cast of "War and Remembrance." Luckily, he only lives two doors away, and gets there before she dies. The doctor very seriously warns him that she will try again, but ends with a joke! Yes, on his way out, after James thanks him for saving Eva Marie's life, he quips, "wait till you see my bill." Is that REALLY necessary?
What will happen to Ann's story now? Her Deep Throat is not going to blab if James returns to her, if he does. When she wakes up, he berates her for having "no respect for human life" when she cares about every other species. Will they stay together or will she "go East for good"as they both decide is mutually advantageous?
Also leaving the nest is Jenilee. This comes out of the blue, for us and for Richard. What about her stuff? "Maybe you could have a yard sale." "I don't have a yard!" he roars. Oh, and Jenilee is leaving him for Anthony. It would be great if this meant her dumb blonde act was just that, an act, but no, she has fallen for Anthony's smooth talking just like she did with Richard.
Also also leaving is George. Well, actually, to be honest, he's already gone. Kim goes to his home to find it empty. "I guess there's deadbeats everywhere, even Malibu," a moving man sagely opines. Kim sucks in her cheeks tighter (the only trick she's displayed acting-wise since the 50s).
Also also also leaving is Susan, leaving three days before the lease is up, much to William's annoyance. He doesn't want to go back to his dull life. "I want my future here," he insists. What follows is the conversation all couples in a miniseries who are at-heart-good-people-who-make-bad-decisions have to have. She knows they can't be happy here, he doesn't think they can be happy there, but they have to go back to find a way forward. "I want to be wanted, not as a convenience or a crutch or an excuse. I want to be more important than money, success or the perfect climate. I want to be the most most important human being in the world to just one other person. Is that asking too much?" No, probably not, but you could have said it better, as that was awfully voluble for such ho-hum sentiment.
William goes out on the porch, waves hello to neighbor Troy Donahue and of course decides to go home with Susan. He's a bit more mixed-up than she is, warning her that when it's snowy and the kids are sick, she better not complain, because he's doing what she wanted, then stuffing in "because I want you." That's the dialogue equivalent of smacking someone and then handing her an ice pack. "There's one thing more I want...to be kissed," Susan cries, giving them a perfect clinch to end their plot.
That just leaves Ann, who decides to go ahead and dig the dirt on James. He's not worried. As he tells his lawyer, people will talk and then "there will be a national disaster of some sort, a war in the Middle East, the garbage collectors will go on strike. It will all be forgotten," he says philosophically, naming three huge events that don't make for a very good punch line. He doesn't want his lawyer to put a stop to anything. "To be successful is her only desire. Let's see if she can handle it," he says with a grin. Is he impressed with her moxie or awaiting her downfall?
Kim has new couples who want rentals while Susan and William pack up the car, to the consternation of Troy Donahue, finally shown up close, who will miss the neighbors he never really knew. Kim tells a potential couple, "last summer was positively sensational." I guess she saw a different movie.
What is, I assume, supposed to be "Grand Hotel" by the beach, "Malibu"is one of those everyone-in-the-pool affairs that thankfully did not do permanent damage to the miniseries. "Malibu" is just too plain brainless to do harm to anything except itself. Why did all of these people take roles in it? Beats me, it couldn't have been the script they were shown. On top of that, a story celebrating the rich looks awfully cheap and hobbled together physically. The plots are uneven, which isn't abnormal in a piece like this, but usually they are skewed toward the more interesting characters. Unfortunately, there are no interesting characters here, just cardboard figures played as such. One could compare it to the very exemplar of miniseries trash, "Hollywood Wives," which knows enough to laugh at itself as it soars wildly over the top. "Malibu" has no such self-awareness. The oft-quoted essence of "Grand Hotel" is "people come, people go, nothing ever happens." What Vicki Baum and those who have successfully reworked it are saying is that no matter who you are or what your problems are in life, big or small, you are just one person among zillions. "Malibu" seems to have understood only the final part of the claim: nothing ever happens.
It all starts with Anthony Newley singing the title song with his usual brand of hokum, though this is not "What Kind of Fool Am I?" or "Who Can I Turn To?" which he wrote for his personal style to charm the back of the balcony. In fact, "Malibu" premiered as Tony was about to crash and burn in his final attempt at a Broadway musical, playing Charlie Chaplin in a show he wrote as well, which opened, closed and was never heard from again, only miles up the coast from Malibu itself in Los Angeles. "Have you been to paradise? The people there are very nice" is the first lyric, followed by some scooped Malibuuu-uuu-uuuu refrains as aerial footage shows us all of the picturesque locale. So, we have firmly established as the credits end that we are in the land of glitzy cheese. Step lively folks, if you stand still too long, that cheese is like quicksand and you won't ever be able to escape!
Malibu's best real estate agent is...wait for it...hold...it's coming...Kim Novak! In one the American miniseries' most unfortunate wigs, she's on the phone cooing to a client when in walks George Hamilton, writing "I'm a live one $" to get her off the phone. He's a conman, in case you didn't get that from his flashy car, flashy suit, flashy smile. He's in "investments." "Think of me as your seeing eye dog," he inexplicably tells Kim as an explanation of how good he is at that nondescript job. He claims to be in the market for a house, something along the lines of a million dollars, so Kim jumps out of her swivel chair and heads off with him. She knows he's a phony, but she goes along with him anyway.
Let's meet some of the locals. Or perhaps have them meet each other. While everyone else is romping in the sand in bikinis, Ann Jillian is in a sweater and pants, stopping in front of James Coburn's house where they lock eyes. Something about his cigar smoking has her cocking her head so far it's liable to snap, but she moves on. Having some grub in a restaurant are Jenilee Harrison, doing her best dumb blonde act (I think it's an act) with distracted Richard Mulligan who, upon hearing that Jenilee feels both of eyes are of sound sight, remarks, "everything you have two of is perfect." He's a writer in the movie business, but apparently not that successfully, and no wonder if that's his best material. Playing tennis are Chad Everett and Valerie Perrine, the former in a tighter outfit than the latter.
Anthony Newley saunters into the restaurant, and Richard Mulligan pounces, trying to schmooze the powerful man who is so important he wears his jacket over his shoulders rather than with his arms in it, as if it's not 400 degrees in Malibu.
I'll hand it to George Hamilton, he plays the suave slime ball exceedingly well (okay, fine, it's the only role he ever played). He offers $750,000 on the $3 million house Kim shows him, offering to rent it for $3K (she counters with $8500 and he agrees), telling her when asked again that his business is "making everybody, but you and me, a little bit poorer" and then chirping that if the bedroom ceiling "cannot hold a mirror, the deal is off." He then gives her an admitted rubber check and for some reason she takes it.
Kim has some actual paying clients too, new-to-California Susan Dey and her husband William Atherton, from Wisconsin, looking for sun and sand for the summer while the kids are at camp. The rental she shows Susan (before William arrives) is right on the beach, with the sound of the waves. "Two months of that beats two months of therapy. You ever been in therapy?" Kim asks, as if it's a perfectly natural question from a) a realtor and b) from someone you just met. Kim schools Susan in the "ambiance" of Malibu and gives her a whole raised-eyebrow routine, though unfortunately, her eyebrows are hidden by her wig, descending lower and lower in each scene. When William arrives, he doesn't want the dump she's showing. He wants "the colony," where all the movers are shakers reside. She takes them to a swank place and continues in her line of wacky sales techniques by sitting in a rocking chair while the couple argues about it. They can't really afford it, but William is set on it and convinces Susan they should go for. "Darling, it's so long since we've had any fun...I'm not talking about pleasure or satisfaction, I'm talking about fun! Doing crazy irresponsible things because we felt like it," he tells her and admits that though they are not wealthy, "faking it can be fun too." Plus, Troy Donahue lives next door, which dazzles them. "A movie star here is like a CPA in Osh Kosh," Kim blithely notes. Plus, Troy Donahue lives next door (the real Troy Donahue, shown only from afar).
Being in "the colony" allows Susan and William access to the club, where Chad Everett turns out to be a tennis instructor Susan remembers from him professional career. Susan gets invited to parties with bold-faced names. Meanwhile, the longing looks between James and Ann could be the chance she needs to boost her career as a journalist. If she can get him on her show, which no one else can do, she will go network! But how to get him? How? How?
Kim hosts a dinner party for Valerie, Ann, Susan and William, which also includes the local flamboyant man in an ascot, Richard McKenzie (playing a character named Honeycutt in a role that really should have gone to Roddy McDowell). Susan, with her perfect memory, knows not only Chad's career stats, but every word author Richard has ever written. "The only reason I would ever have an affair with you is to find out if you ever keep your mouth shut," yells Valerie, having left the dinner table for the Jacuzzi next to it, sans clothing. "He doesn't," Kim offers. Wait, he's slept with them? Two women? Even worse than Susan's ability to be annoying by rote, she even offers to help Kim with the dishes.
During a walk on the beach, Valerie confesses a deep dark secret to William. "I've never had an affair with an astronaut," she tells him. So much for deep thinking. "I want to be an astronaut," William flirts before they they head into the water, much to Susan's annoyance. It's going to be one hell of a summer, kiddies!
Ann decides to stop by James and Eva Marie's house, where Eva Marie graciously welcomes her because she recognizes her from television. Ann has a whole speech prepared about how her viewers care for "important issues." Eva Marie still doesn't get it until Ann mentions Eva Marie's passion for environmental issues, when she knows for sure Ann wants James and not her. Apparently Eva Marie and her gang have wanted on the show forever, and have been turned down, so the jig is up for Ann. She'll have to find another way.
Steve Forrest has the least masculine beach run style in Malibu, stopping in front of Susan's place where she is thrilled that a movie star wants to come up for a cold drink. Maybe she can get used to this!
Now it's time for Ann's new trick. Knowing James has a lesson with Chad (who has shorts so tight it borders on porn), she has Chad paged and steps onto the court. Since James has already taken a shine to her just from seeing her once, he's more than happy to pay with her, despite the Greek goddess outfit and headband. James knows who she is and knows that Ann had been given the boot by Eva Marie. "I still don't give interviews," he says as they volley and trade bad puns. She takes a girlish slip on the court, requiring careful walking and lunch with James. It's an exceedingly painful scene, one that runs on way too long as they continue with the puns, they just aren't sexual this time (well, not all of them). Dazzled by her sexiness and vamping, he almost cracks. However, he's smarter than she is and knows all along there's been a tape recorder running. After destroying the tape, he asks to have lunch with her again.
If you thought Ann's scenes with James were painful, get a load of the interview she actually does with fey Richard for her show. He speaks like Truman Capote, though not at all witty or particularly observant, just seemingly putting words together to force quips. After he describes his "ideal woman," she tears into him, asking, no demanding, that he come out of the closet. He sputters and storms to the camera, trying to block it. That ought to help her career, but dinner parties will be awkward this summer!
Battling a dog and his own velvet jumpsuit, Richard tries again with Anthony at the latter's house. Then he has to battle with a British butler. He can't fool the dry valet, but he does get the script inside the door at least. This is the comedy plot and it's already tired.
Impressed with Ann's interview with Richard, James calls her for a beach walk, which is not pleasing to Eva Marie, overhearing the phone conversation. He offers to take her to a hotel, which she doesn't mind at all, saying that "if we are going to have a relationship, it has to be honest." She was smart for two scenes and now she's back to dumb again, though that's okay because he's struck dumb by Cupid's arrow.
Steve, wearing the same revealing shorts as Chad, but in a different color, takes Susan for a walk on the beach, regarding her like a hungry wolf, and then invites her to his bedroom to watch his old movies. He tries every trick to get her into the bed, but she won't even get onto it, sitting on a bench instead. "We should be making love, not talking," he says when she brings up his wife. "Maybe talking is more fun," she replies. He gets her in a clinch and pulls her to the bed, but she pushes him off and dashes out. So, he goes back to watching one of his movies. Hey, it's easier than calling a hooker or lifting weights.
Ann has a dilemma. Her producer and crackpot team of investigators have, in just one day, managed to dig up all the dirt on James' law career, including a Mr. X, who will be interviewed, but only anonymously. Everyone is excited, but Ann can't join in. You see, let's say it all together, she's fallen for James. Since yesterday.
Valerie Perrine has the corniest line of the movie when, watching James and Ann in a double match (which is so poorly faked and uses so much repeat footage that I hope the stand-ins were well paid), turns to her partner, George Hamilton and wonders if they can beat them. "Piece of cake," he answers. "I think you've been in the sun too long," she says. They both do a double take to make sure the line is hammered home. Yes, we get the George Hamilton in-joke. We're smarter than the creators of "Malibu," so we chuckled, kind of, when it was said. They then go to Ann's have sex and she shows him the footage they have shot for the show about him, even mentioning Mr. X. Whose side is she on anyway? "Any good lawyer would kick you out of bed," he says before kissing her again. They banter, and it seems Ann is out of her league. James has been at this a lot longer, but he figures he can trip her up an still bag the babe.
When Richard arrives home to find Jenilee not there, he panics and somehow figures out she's with her friends, a rock group playing insanely loud music with lots of 80s guitar riffs while the girls dance with their arms in that style that hopefully will never come back. Since he can't be heard inside, we have to groan through a pantomime routine until she leaves, only to pout in the car as he yells at her. "Don't speak to me...I am not a poodle!" she insists. "Yes and no, poodles can be very lovable," he replies. A horrible comic scene full of voices and jokes and everything terrible follows before we find out he's broke (as if we hadn't guess that yet by the cheap lunches and paint peeling off the house). Jenilee has bought herself a riding outfit. "You don't have to ride to have a riding outfit," she tells him. What the hell are these two doing? I can't believe I like the cuckoo drama more than the cuckoo comedy.
It's the night of Valerie's big party. Everyone is there. Eva Marie spends her time chasing James, threatening him that he's in for it if he flaunts his affair at the party. Susan gets smashed to avoid having to mingle sober because she thinks William and Valerie are having an affair, Anthony promises stardom to young actresses, an ancient authoress takes up everyone's time. Valerie and George are tennis partners, though Kim is suspicious of him. Jenilee tries her best to keep up with everyone's conversations, but that's not likely, possibly spoiling every attempt Richard makes at networking.
To fill time, there are encounters such as this head scratcher: blonde 20something actress (and I use the term loosely because she can barely get out a line) Monique St. Pierre asks Susan, "if you had the choice between an iffy Broadway play and six months in 'The King and I,' which would you do?" Huh? I suppose that depends on the roles. In "The King and I," what would she be? There are three female roles and she's not Asian enough for two. Susan comes down on the side of 'The King and I," naturally. Susan overhears Valerie and the ancient authoress talking about Valerie's new boyfriend, so that's when she bumps into Chad Everett, inevitably Mr. Right Now. He offers her lessons, "if you want me to" he says with matinee idol grandeur.
What always happens at these parties where the entire cast is assembled? Violence! Eva goes to tear James away from Ann, Richard does the same with Jenilee and then William slugs Steve Forrest, who has just entered the party dressed for a safari. "Keep the juices flowing, the fun's just beginning," Valerie says before the entire cast does reaction shots to William that lead to freeze frames flattering to absolutely none of them. It is truly the most bizarre ending of a first part I can remember. But, it's no less witless than anything else that's been done, except I'm sure it was considered "creative" at the time.
The morning after...
Valerie descends the stairs slower than Norma Desmond because she's so hungover and Steve has apparently slept over. He wants to sue William for decking him, because "it could delay production on my new series." "You don't have a new series," Valerie reminds him. "It's in the works."
Susan has no hangover and she drank the most. She can even manage a tennis lesson with Chad, who tells her "no time spent with you is wasted" as she shows a stunning inability to pick up the fundamentals of the game. When Chad and Susan leave (the former to follow Susan, which pisses off James, who can't have his lesson), there is one of those continuity errors that are so much fun to see. Chad is wearing a completely different color outfit than seconds previously. In the romance department, Chad might be considered lacking as he remembers past match points that did not go his way instead of anything lovey dovey. He is earnest, one can't deny that, giving the same performance he always does, and sticking to it. When Susan admits that her attempt at college acting didn't work, and her professor had a particularly biting remark about her Blanche DuBois (that would be the fault of whoever cast the production--can anyone imagine Susan as Blanche? Neither can I, and apparently she also played Lady Macbeth), Chad ever-so-seriously notes, "maybe my line judge became your assistant professor." Susan doesn't even flinch at that howler of a line. The scene drags on and on, with Chad's monotone getting even worse with his take that one can't worry about the future, "fatalistic ballyhoo," he calls it. At times it seems he's flirting with her, but because his vocal and facial expressions never change, it's impossible to tell for sure. Even Susan looks confused (and sleepy).
Blame it on the Midwest, I suppose, but after even 25 seconds of lunch with George Hamilton, William still doesn't realize he's about to be scammed out of oodles of money.
When a very furious Kim Novak shows up at George's place with his bounced check, he's telling a mover, "don't you know the difference between a real Matisse and a fake Matisse? The fake is a lot harder to paint," and then gives her the jibber jabber as he attempts to lower her to the bed. She's not buying. He gives her another check, but she's not that stupid (the only person in the movie who can claim that) and wants cash. He hands her the $8K check William had just given him. She knows whatever he's sold William is phony, and he admits it too, though claiming it's a good lesson for the guy to learn. George continues to fleece her, telling her of a grand plan to get James' money before they kiss over the kitchen counter. A apologize, I was in error previously: Kim is a stupid as everyone else in the movie.
William has become so entranced by Malibu (as the title song predicted), that he starts to get a bit bug-eyed and fixated, telling Susan he wants to move there, despite all of her very real and practical reasons why they can't (the kids, the cost, etc.). "You know what this place has done to us!" Susan barks.
Pause for a second. We've been through half the movie with only a suggestion that either William or Susan has cheated, but nothing definitive. They haven't had enough screen time to have changed THAT much.
Un-pause. The yelling continues and Susan wants to know what the hell is happening to them as a couple (the rest of us really don't care, so stop shouting). "Let's pack up and leave today!" she begs. "I want to stay," Bug Eyes retorts. "Our marriage won't survive it!" she insists. This is a lovely course in the basics of banal dialogue, but it ends on a laugh-riot exit line for William: "If it's so flimsy it can't stand up to perfect weather, then perhaps it shouldn't survive!" I think perfect weather is either the #4 or #5 biggest causes of divorce, right? I'll have to consult an almanac to be sure.
Already-has-an-Oscar Eva Marie and will-eventually-have-an-Oscar James Coburn (both of which should be taken away for "Malibu" alone) have a nasty battle over breakfast where Eva Marie demands he give up Ann, spitting words like "cheap" and "tawdry" and threatening to kill Ann (with what, your expensive handbag?), James says "no you won't. You're against all forms of violence, they'll remove you from all of your precious committees." As she's arguing with shrill diction, George interrupts the argument with some of his con artist shtick, which both seem to actually go for.
Not realizing there is a price on her head via mobster granny Eva Marie, Ann watches what turns out to be a disastrous interview with Mr. X, who, as James predicted, would not reveal any details. Wouldn't it have been smarter to actually show the interview happening and Ann reacting to it live? Doing it this way, Ann is forced to sit and watch it like she's seeing it for the first time. She's not, considering she was there! "I don't like being made a fool of!" Ann growls at her producer. "Hey, we lost," he says. "I don't want to lose, not to someone who fights dirty!" she snaps Wait, isn't that how she's been playing all along? She also realizes she may have told James a little too much. You think? You know, if I were a crusading journalist who wanted to jump to the network and was just quashed by a powerful man, I know to whom I would go to rectify that. Of course, his angrier-than-Medea wife! Well, there is the problem of Ann being the cause of Eva Marie's anger, but perhaps they can sort that out. Let's see what happens. It seems obvious enough to you or me, but this is "Malibu" after all, a colony full of rampaging morons.
Her producer, walking out, says, "maybe the Pope will visit Disneyland and you can get an exclusive." Ah, yes, kick her with sarcasm when she's down. Ann is then forced to deliver an Emmy-baiting bit (onto which no one could possibly chomp), with tears welling as she says, "I don't like losing, I never did. And I never will!"
While jogging on the beach, William sees Valerie (a mere Oscar nominee) at her French windows, which she leaves open. He takes that as a cue and goes inside looking for her. He doesn't just look for her, he scours the place, going through every room on the first level, with the camera in tow to make a viewer almost car sick from the journey. She's naked in yet another Jacuzzi upstairs. They flirt for a while, where she asks him point blank if he wants to have sex, but they also catch us up on some plot points that we didn't miss because we're watching the damn thing. With bubbles gliding around her, she informs him that George's financial deals are fake and that he only used her name to get William to throw in his money. "I think young executive just lost his shirt," she says. "I think young executive is going to attack lady in hot tub," he replies, pulling off his shoes. Did they both have strokes, leaving them unable to speak in complete sentences?
Alas, Susan is not in San Francisco, as she told William she would be. No, she's in a cheap motel in post-coital confusion with Chad. "I guess not too many people come to motels to look at the paintings," Chad says, in the same voice as always, after Susan dumps on the art work. Again, I think he's actually saying it seriously, but we'll never know for sure. Rain Man Susan has another one of those perfect recall moments when she tells Chad that "according to statistics, 35% of people who stay in motels are having affairs." "Shouldn't that be an even number?" he asks, as if he knows an even versus an odd number. Chad believes they are now officially together and proposes marriage, still serious and wooden.
Oh, and Chad also needs money to start up a sportswear company, but he's short of the money needed. One might expect him to sweet talk it from his new lady love, but she's broke. He plans to go after James, just like everybody else.
Remember Jenilee and Richard? I know, you were hoping they had disappeared completely. Jenilee drags him to meet her young friends, who say they love the script and want to shoot it, though with many changes. Since they have the cash to finance it, he has to go with their changes. The main change is to make the 57-year old bank president into a 20something elevator operation at the Empire State Building who even has a way to work a band into the story. Richard's confusion upon leaving is completely understandable as that was one crackpot scene. An elevator operator? In 1983? Will the sequel concern a Fotomat employee in 2006, an equally extinct job?
"What exactly is your price...women like you charge, don't they?" Eva Marie asks Ann, accosting her in a parking lot. And then BINGO, my prediction comes true (because clever plotting is completely absent from "Malibu"). Eva Marie offers Ann all the dirt she has on her husband if Ann will leave James. Will Ann choose love or ambition?
George convinced James to wager on their mixed doubles tennis final, knowing full well he could never win, and also knowing that club rules allow for a replacement (he fakes an injury), and that replacement can be anyone, including former pro champ Chad Everett! Chad feels it's "inappropriate," but George and Kim, who is in for a share, convince him.
Even the filthy rich shop for groceries. That's where Jenilee finds Anthony (now a sweater over his shoulders), bumping into him on purpose, so klutzy that, as Richard says, she would knock down the "Leaning Tower of Pizza." Wow, there's a fresh joke. Her flirting, whether real or not, of course works.
It should be a problem for James to now give money to Chad for his new business, right? They will be on opposite sides of the court. James has a plan, of course, but Chad doesn't realize it, as one would suspect of this lobotomized patient. James dances around it for a while and agrees to give him the money, though it takes extra long for Chad to realize he's supposed to throw the match for the money.
Anthony had no idea that the man Jenilee was raving about was dorky Richard, who flies over to Anthony's house. Anthony agrees to direct the picture, but he wants changes and here's the twist: Anthony wants to make the script YOUNGER and use the band that Richard has already seen. Isn't that cute? Someone kill this plot soon...please!
Boring though he may be, there is something moral in Chad. He goes home to tell his wife not to come watch the match. She assumes he's having an affair, but "don't tell me, not in this robe and not with my hair up like this," as if the news will have a better impact with a change of hairdo. No, no, nothing like that, he merely tells her he's going to throw the match. THEN he lowers the boom about his new love, saying he wants "a new kind of life, and with that money this afternoon, I can make it happen." "Is she worth it?" "I'd tank in the finals at Wimbledon if she were second prize," he says of Susan, whom he's known for a few days. When he tells his wife Susan will be there, she decides she'll be at the match as well.
Tennis, anyone? When we join the match, James and Ann are up and Chad is playing so badly that when he misses a shot, William clucks, "I could have hit that one!" Once again, check out the close-ups, as they are obviously shot indoors, obvious both in look and sound. Kim is mighty worried, with money at stake. Valerie isn't happy either, especially when Chad double faults on a set point. "I have a lot of money riding on this game...I bet my shrink $50 we would win this thing!" she tells him. I think that's supposed to be funny, so laugh. Or not. Get a load of the extras too, as they have to spin their heads this way and that pretending to watch tennis. Fed up spectating at such a horror, Chad's wife leaves, and when he sees her open seat, he's confused. Or so the music tells us, Chad isn't that good an actor. He knows what he has to do...which is play his best and win! He's morality has returned.
And so has his game. He roars back, winning every point in a flashy quick-moving sequence where the teams go into the third set tied. James is hopping mad and Ann gets pissy too. At home, Eva Marie smashes a mirror (she's exempt from seven years of bad luck for having slogged through "Malibu" with a kernel of dignity).
Chad serves for match point. It's an ace. Game, set, match.
"Let's go, it's all over," William says to Susan as everyone is filing out. If only he knew. "You lost, you really lost!" James tells Chad menacingly. George and Kim are happy. At least someone is.
Susan goes to Bridget Hanley, Chad's wife with all of the hair problems. She knows before Susan can tell her that he won the match. "I saw where he was looking every time they changed court," Bridget notes to Susan, but Susan reminds her that by winning, he gave up his dreams of a new life. "He tried to throw that match and he couldn't...I think it was because he didn't want to lose you," says the world's worst mistress, Susan Dey. There is an attempt at a plot twist here, when Bridget tells her that Chad does this "every summer," finally an explanation for her worry-free attitude. Next summer, "I hope the woman is as nice as you," Bridget adds. Awww, what an understanding wife! I guess when your hubby's other woman is a milquetoast lump like Susan's character, you don't get too upset.
As if losing the tennis match isn't bad enough, Ann tells James she is going forward with her dirt-digging piece. "Atta girl," James says, impressed, but maybe a trifle displeased. Cue the telephone, a call for James from Eva Marie, who has just taken enough pills to off the whole cast of "War and Remembrance." Luckily, he only lives two doors away, and gets there before she dies. The doctor very seriously warns him that she will try again, but ends with a joke! Yes, on his way out, after James thanks him for saving Eva Marie's life, he quips, "wait till you see my bill." Is that REALLY necessary?
What will happen to Ann's story now? Her Deep Throat is not going to blab if James returns to her, if he does. When she wakes up, he berates her for having "no respect for human life" when she cares about every other species. Will they stay together or will she "go East for good"as they both decide is mutually advantageous?
Also leaving the nest is Jenilee. This comes out of the blue, for us and for Richard. What about her stuff? "Maybe you could have a yard sale." "I don't have a yard!" he roars. Oh, and Jenilee is leaving him for Anthony. It would be great if this meant her dumb blonde act was just that, an act, but no, she has fallen for Anthony's smooth talking just like she did with Richard.
Also also leaving is George. Well, actually, to be honest, he's already gone. Kim goes to his home to find it empty. "I guess there's deadbeats everywhere, even Malibu," a moving man sagely opines. Kim sucks in her cheeks tighter (the only trick she's displayed acting-wise since the 50s).
Also also also leaving is Susan, leaving three days before the lease is up, much to William's annoyance. He doesn't want to go back to his dull life. "I want my future here," he insists. What follows is the conversation all couples in a miniseries who are at-heart-good-people-who-make-bad-decisions have to have. She knows they can't be happy here, he doesn't think they can be happy there, but they have to go back to find a way forward. "I want to be wanted, not as a convenience or a crutch or an excuse. I want to be more important than money, success or the perfect climate. I want to be the most most important human being in the world to just one other person. Is that asking too much?" No, probably not, but you could have said it better, as that was awfully voluble for such ho-hum sentiment.
William goes out on the porch, waves hello to neighbor Troy Donahue and of course decides to go home with Susan. He's a bit more mixed-up than she is, warning her that when it's snowy and the kids are sick, she better not complain, because he's doing what she wanted, then stuffing in "because I want you." That's the dialogue equivalent of smacking someone and then handing her an ice pack. "There's one thing more I want...to be kissed," Susan cries, giving them a perfect clinch to end their plot.
That just leaves Ann, who decides to go ahead and dig the dirt on James. He's not worried. As he tells his lawyer, people will talk and then "there will be a national disaster of some sort, a war in the Middle East, the garbage collectors will go on strike. It will all be forgotten," he says philosophically, naming three huge events that don't make for a very good punch line. He doesn't want his lawyer to put a stop to anything. "To be successful is her only desire. Let's see if she can handle it," he says with a grin. Is he impressed with her moxie or awaiting her downfall?
Kim has new couples who want rentals while Susan and William pack up the car, to the consternation of Troy Donahue, finally shown up close, who will miss the neighbors he never really knew. Kim tells a potential couple, "last summer was positively sensational." I guess she saw a different movie.
What is, I assume, supposed to be "Grand Hotel" by the beach, "Malibu"is one of those everyone-in-the-pool affairs that thankfully did not do permanent damage to the miniseries. "Malibu" is just too plain brainless to do harm to anything except itself. Why did all of these people take roles in it? Beats me, it couldn't have been the script they were shown. On top of that, a story celebrating the rich looks awfully cheap and hobbled together physically. The plots are uneven, which isn't abnormal in a piece like this, but usually they are skewed toward the more interesting characters. Unfortunately, there are no interesting characters here, just cardboard figures played as such. One could compare it to the very exemplar of miniseries trash, "Hollywood Wives," which knows enough to laugh at itself as it soars wildly over the top. "Malibu" has no such self-awareness. The oft-quoted essence of "Grand Hotel" is "people come, people go, nothing ever happens." What Vicki Baum and those who have successfully reworked it are saying is that no matter who you are or what your problems are in life, big or small, you are just one person among zillions. "Malibu" seems to have understood only the final part of the claim: nothing ever happens.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Rich Man, Poor Man (1976) Chapter 12--THE END (and insights)
We are at the end. We've made it through the first acknowledged Great American Miniseries. As we enter the final lap, some lives are fraying (Peter Strauss' and Susan Blakely's) and some are flying (Nick Nolte's). The problem child has wised up and become a dependable man with a son and a fiancee. The once-dependable man is hassled and henpecked. How will it end?
At the very end of Chapter 11, Nick's seemingly blissful existence was about to gain cloud cover as sworn enemy William Smith had found him. He had beaten up William Smith a few years earlier, so badly that William lost an eye. As Chapter 12 starts, Herbert Jefferson brings Nick the news that William is nearby. For now, Nick is so happy with his son back and in love with Kay, who finally accepts his proposal of marriage because she's pregnant.
Fortunes are up for Nick, but down for Peter Strauss, his political career on the rise, but very unpopular with the youth who are angry at his position on ROTC. In fact, he orders an editorial written "drawing parallels between the New Left and Hitler." That's how out-of-touch he's become. Worse yet, Susan has become a full-time lush, so bad even the maid can't deal with her. She and Peter have a massive fight where both admit it is time to think about their failing marriage.
The students decide to picket Peter's house, throw rocks and get Susan to open the door, naked and drunk. Peter blames the mayor, the police and everyone else but himself, and only because of the affects it may have on his political career. This is where he finally snaps. All the years of creating his perfect life have been derailed and he becomes...his brother.
He goes to the school paper and tears the place up, punching a guy, knocking down a shelf accidentally on a girl, who is blinded by the chemicals falling on her, all of it caught by salivating photographers. Their lives have finally reversed, to some degree.
Susan goes to the hospital to dry out, worried that she has ended her husband's career, but he now takes full credit. The guilt is eating at him, especially when the blinded girl acts very heroic about her state. Peter and Susan want another chance, if she can give up alcohol and he can give up politics.
Peter and Susan travel to France for Nick and Kay's wedding. It's a joyous wedding and other than a sip of wine for a toast, Susan doesn't drink. Nick is thrilled to have Peter there. His present to his brother is a radar that Nick has always wanted for his boat. "This is the greatest damn wedding anybody ever had," Nick claims in drunken delight, before passing out. "I'm afraid the wedding night might have to be postponed," Kay admits in good cheer.
In case the true reversal of fortune for the leads has not become obvious, it's Susan who points it out, telling Peter she can't believe how well Nick has turned out. "He's changed so much," she ruefully says. "Haven't we all?" Peter adds. "But he's changed for the better."
Unable to sleep, Susan leaves Peter in bed and goes to a bar. Who joins her there? William Smith, of course. A local rushes to Nick to tell him he's spotted Susan in a seedy strip club with William Smith. Nick tracks her down and finds William trying to rape Susan. When Nick bursts in, William holds a knife to Susan before the inevitable William-Nick fight. Susan is beaten up a little, Nick must worse, but when Nick has the chance to kill William, the latter begs for his life and Nick leaves him with it. As he tells Kay proudly, "I could have killed a man, but I didn't."
Naturally, Peter is angry at Susan, both full of excuses, and the subject of divorce comes up again, tabled again.
William exacts his revenge, looking from yards away as his goons stab Nick. When Kay finds him, he's barely alive. That means a hospital scene! Naturally, it's between the brothers, Nick barely able to speak, but wanting his brother there at the very end. "You go get 'em...you go get the bad guys," Nick says. "I don't know who they are anymore. I think I'm one of them," Peter cries. "No...you're not," Nick assures him and then dies. This scene is brief and handled beautifully, where it could have easily been drawn-out and maudlin.
Nick's ashes are thrown into the ocean by his son and wife, with his brother, sister-in-law and loyal Herbert in attendance. "He died on the happiest day of his life," Kay assures Herbert. Peter and Susan are able to join hands with some amount of hope as the miniseries finally ends.
And there you have it, all of "Rich Man, Poor Man." It still sparkles with true genius. The early episodes looked like they might have to rely heavily on vets like Ed Asner and Dorothy McGuire, who were utterly fantastic, but the three leads definitely stepped up and controlled the 12 parts like pros. Actually, it would stand to be some of their best work ever. Sure, Nick Nolte rose to superstardom, but it was erratic and often fueled more by controversy than talent. Peter Strauss and Susan Blakely stayed with television. Peter would not only return for more of "Rich Man, Poor Man" in an ill-advised sequel, but would pretty much play the same good-guy character to this day (and in a few big miniseries). Susan Blakely
What's new is not the story, but the telling. The 1970 Shaw novel could have very easily been condensed into a major motion picture, probably cutting most of the characters and all of the charm, leaving us with cardboard characters and fey storytelling. Instead, a bunch of brave people decided to try something different: taking a lot of what British television had been doing for ages (and, in truth American television had tentatively done previously), filming the whole story, or most of it, in epic style. We're not chopping Shaw down to two hours, or even three. It received 12 episodes and was broadcast over enough time to keep viewers interested. This is something new. It's not the standard 20some episodes of a cop or hospital show, where viewers didn't have to watch every week to know what was happening, but it was given the opulent treatment of a successful television drama. It's also not daytime soap opera, which had done all of these plots before, stretching them out over years at a time. It's a mix. Thus the term miniseries. Everything is wrapped up in a tight package, but the package is bigger than ever mounted before.
If a fairly hokey and predictable novel like "Rich Man, Poor Man" could be done in this style, what about something bigger? What if we don't just travel through 20 odd years with a few people and a bunch of costume changes? What if we go even bigger? After all, that's what Hollywood is known for. In the immediate future, there was the bravery of adapting Alex Haley's "Roots," a long but very stark look at the very heart of American society, and further down the road such enormous sagas as "Holocaust," a European-based equivalent of "Roots" and every bit as brave, "North and South" or "Winds of War." But, "Rich Man, Poor Man," while sending producers scrambling for well-reviewed long novels, also realized that it wasn't necessarily the saga of the thing, but the soap in it too, which led to "The Thorn Birds" or "East of Eden." Hell, some of them weren't even that intelligent and spread before us "Harem" and "Kane and Abel," pure trash dolled up to look like the millions of bucks they cost.
But they were all successful, to varying degrees, and this push toward big television kept on going for 20 years. It ended with cable television and the Internet pulling away focus, but that's a story for 1995 or so, not 1976. In 1976, "Rich Man, Poor Man" was staggeringly new, full of vivacity and emotion, setting rules for an entire genre no one knew would necessarily follow. After all, this could have been an enormous dud. If viewers were not gripped from the onset, there was no chance of keeping them hooked (a lesson learned years later when the miniseries reached its most outlandish size with "War and Remembrance"). But, "Rich Man, Poor Man" hooks. It has real characters, small-town people with real problems. Sure, they get a little lofty at the end, but their problems are always real: fear, jealousy, happiness, love, loss. That's the secret to all the Great American Miniseries: dress them up in whatever finery you want, cast the hell out of the piece, give it all the trappings, but make it somehow relatable to people turning on their television sets. They aren't paying money to go to a theater and see this, so they aren't trapped. The only way to keep them is to grab hold from the beginning and never let go. From the moment Rudy Jordache plays his bugle to herald the end of a devastating world war and the moment Tom Jordache sneers at it, from Axel Jordache miserable in a basement bakery to Mary Jordache ignoring the badness to focus on her shining star son, or even the simplicity of Susan Blakely as a candy striper reading "Gone With the Wind" to wounded soldiers, these are people the folks at home can understand. Understand them, understand their problems, and stick to that. The problems may get loftier (in minute ways like state politics here or in massive horrors like slavery or concentration camps in later pieces), but the way the characters deal with them will not. Watch Meryl Streep in "Holocaust" and though the world is exploding around her, she only wants her husband back.
And that, as I see it, is the secret to the Great American Miniseries, letting the viewers in for a limited time to emotions they can comprehend. Television usually keeps us outside of the box, laughing at outrageous Lucy ruining Desi's show, or Dorothy and Sophia snapping at each other, or by having Dr. Kildare solve yet another medical mystery we would never have been able to understand, ditto for Jessica Fletcher, asking us to stop our lives and give them over to other people for 30 or 60 minutes. Not so with the miniseries. Sure, you can send us to Medieval Japan in "Shogun," but what are we asked to believe there? That the hero wants to understand what he's never seen and then falls madly in love? Not so far-fetched (emotionally). What was the secret behind "A Woman Named Jackie?" That one of the 20th Century's most discussed women loved and hated and regretted and feared. Sounds real enough to me, no matter the costumes or the sources of those emotions.
Unfortunately, not every miniseries will be this intelligent, but they don't have to be because not everybody wants to think with the television on, though they can still come inside. What emotions are we expected to have for Ted Bundy in "A Deliberate Stranger?" None, it's just there for shock value, as would be many true-crime sagas, but we breathlessly follow Mark Harmon's every move. What are we to make of "Fresno" other than feeling the hangover that comes with biting the hand that feeds you (and badly)? Nothing, it's just there because someone thought it would be clever. Or traditional epics that had been filmed before like beloved "Ivanhoe" or "The Scarlet Pimpernel?" Nothing, just bask in the glow of their incredible storytelling for which you don't have to leave your home and pay money for seats and popcorn to get drawn in. Granted, Ted Bundy and the French Revolution are delicious hooks for a television audience and they deserve more than just an hour condensation, but there is also the value of pure entertainment to be considered. After 12 episodes of Susan Blakely's moping in "Rich Man, Poor Man," one has had enough. One can still relate, but one can also want it to end. The great thing is that it does, because the miniseries always end. They do not continue season after season. With that, we're back to the brilliance of creating such a genre.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Rich Man, Poor Man (1976) Chapter 11
Folks, we have hit the penultimate episode of "Rich Man, Poor Man." There are only about 90 minutes left to wrap up the story. In Chapter 10, brothers Peter Strauss and Nick Nolte were reunited after many years to face the death of Mama Dorothy McGuire. Peter won his election to the state senate, which caused Susan to crawl further into the bottle and become a danger to his career. Meanwhile, Nick got the money to start his yacht charter business in Marseilles with pal William Jefferson, though ever aware that the mob is on his tail for an offense committed many years ago. However, a more recent fight may cause his security to unravel.
We pick up the story three years after we last left it, in 1965. Susan, sober at breakfast, is still a bit touchy, especially when Peter's career intrudes on their time together. She has had no letter from her son, but she actually delights in a letter from Nick, who reveals in minute detail what has been going on with his yacht charter business. "Yeah, but is he making any money?" Peter asks, now as icy and cold as perhaps his old mentor Robert Reed. Nick and Susan came face to face with each other and settled their past in Chapter 10.
All is not actually well in this house. Knowing Nick needs rich people to charter his boat, which he has named after his long-ago love Fionnula Flanagan, Susan suggests Peter tell Van and his wife Dorothy Malone they should hire him. Yes, she admits she wants him gone for a while because "he scares me," although she can't explain why. Peter says he might have to bring his political backer home for lunch, which Susan takes as a warning not to get "looped before lunch."
Peter has to dart off to his old college, where he's donated some equipment to the school paper he once helped to run. The current editor, a youth of another generation, challenges him. He wants to know if Peter will run for national election in 1966, and Van Johnson asks if he would vote for him. Seemingly not, as Peter represents the old guard, though Peter reminds him of his voting record and that they actually may be on the same page. Peter takes the ribbing, which Van Johnson sees as a sign that Peter may have "the right touch" with the youth. The conversation then turns to Susan, whom Van hints is becoming a political liability. Peter suggests Van and Dorothy use Nick's boat.
And they do. The two arrive looking like the lead characters in "La Cage Aux Folles" (okay that's a cheap shot since Van Johnson still had the role of Georges in that show looming on his fading horizon), both sporting fake hair and lots of make-up. The only problem is that their cook has never materialized and the Van Johnsons were promised a good cook. The one they hired has landed himself in jail, but they find one in volunteering Kay Lenz, a perky blonde with legs for days (and a black eye from the cook who landed himself in jail by giving it to her). The snappy banter between Kay and Nick is proof that sparks will fly. That's been obvious since the movies started using sound, but it's a BIG ongoing way of introducing lovers in miniseries. She gets the job and the yacht "shoves off."
Kay has a hit with her first dish, fish chowder, which Van and Dorothy adore. "You better hang onto her, we may be taking her home with us," Van tells Nick, much to Dorothy's dismay. She's noticed her husband looking at Kay. She needn't worry, as Van Johnson plays this role gayer than any other role he played on film, and that's pretty damn gay, but then again, Dorothy Malone is intent on stealing whatever moment she can, even if it's campy and in a caftan.
Nick has of course fallen for Kay already, and acts like a goofy teenager around her, the second step to love after snappy banter in the handbook.
Two weeks go by, with Van and Dorothy having had a wonderful time, but Nick confides in Kay, now wearing nothing but skimpy bikinis, that they have no charters lined up and they desperately need money. He also tells her about his son and how his wife took him. "She was an alley cat...and so was I, no better," he notes, an awfully mature statement from our growing-and-learning bad boy. As for his son, it's rather unbelievable that nitwit Talia Shire has managed to keep him hidden all these years, especially now that bigwig Peter Strauss has people looking for him. But, that's Irwin Shaw's issue; we just have to deal with it.
Just when you thought there was no camp in "Rich Man, Poor Man," and I admit that we've made it through nearly 11 episodes with it relegated safely to Bill Bixby, who was dispatched ages ago, old hams Van Johnson and Dorothy Malone spew it all over the place. You see, Dorothy wants to get into port and Van orders Nick to do it. However, there are rocks in their path, so they have to take the long way, which will mean another night on board. Dorothy, stripping down to a very unflattering bathing suit (from a very unflattering caftan), threatens to swim back if the boat isn't turned the right way and Van, as drunk as she is, orders Nick to do so. Nick refuses and as Dorothy is wailing, Van Johnson punches Nick Nolte. Yes, Van Johnson, who spent much of his career cuddling up to the likes of Judy Garland, punches one of film's all-time badasses, Nick Nolte
Actually, Van departs, sober, apologizing for his behavior and giving Nick a lot more than promised, also telling him he'll refer his rich friends. Dorothy even tells Kay "you're a good cook." They want to book the entire month of June next year. See, sober movie stars can be humble. With violins going full tilt, Nick asks Kay to stay on permanently, wrapping her in his arms. After having had sex, Kay wants to know where the name of the boat came from, but he replies, "someone I knew I was a boy," which is the truth. His language is awfully flowery as he confesses his love to Kay.
Meanwhile, back in the USA, Peter has tracked down Nick's old manager Norman Fell, living in squalor, on his quest to locate Nick's son. It turns out that the mafia no longer cares about the vendetta and Nick is not only safe to return, but "he can lead the Columbus Day Parade down Fifth Avenue," in Norman's colorful language. Norman knows the name by which Talia Shire goes, but not where she lives. Peter calls Nick in France to tell him he's found his son and to get home immediately!
That's good news for Nick's son, but Susan's son is in trouble. He's being kicked out of school, which means he could be sent to Vietnam. Peter promises as soon as he reunites Nick and his son, they can fly to California and deal with her son.
So, what happened to Talia and the kid? Well, Talia divorced Nick on grounds of desertion (which she actually did to him), sent the kid to a military school and has become a hooker. "She's a professional. When I had her, she wasn't even a gifted amateur," Nick quips in a rare display of actual humor. Susan interrupts Peter's telling of the tale to Nick with a drunken harangue about her son again. Nick and Peter actually notice that perhaps their lives have turned. Nick is convinced that life would be the same if he had stayed: Peter would be successful and he would be the reject. But, Nick's boat is a success, he's happy and in love, while Peter has a stressful career and a wife he always wanted, neither of which bring him any happiness. Nick says aloud that he never knew "life could be so good." Oh, Nick, if only you knew! That is a miniseries kiss of death! But, you couldn't know that since you are helping to invent these questionable rules.
Nick goes to find his son Michael Morgan at the military school, but tight-ass colonel in charge has a file on the kid that says his father is dead. Nick flings his passport at him and then they exchange some witty banter about the kid's mother. Nick is informed that Michael has been "a problem" for fighting, but the colonel refuses to let the boy go until both parents agree to take him out. Nick shows him the file on Talia and they can't wait to get rid of him fast enough.
It's here, with only moments to go in the second to last episode of the piece, that we know for sure Nick's character has become a man. He gets a child. Sure, he sired the kid, but he was never a father. Only oceans of time and space have made him ready for the task. It's worth nothing that Peter, who has always been the stable one, doesn't have a child. His was miscarried and the only one he has access to is his wife's by a former marriage and he's living 3000 miles away. Once again, the question is asked, who is the rich man and who is the poor man? We're not talking about money anymore, we're talking about quality of life.
But perhaps we always have been.
But you knew that. We've been through enough together to be on the same page, my friends.
From there, it's off to California to meet Susan's son, future soap hunk Leigh McCloskey. He couldn't be less excited to see them. He's an ass from the start. Talking to Susan, in yet another turban, he confesses that his girlfriend's family doesn't like him, because they think he smokes pot. "Well, do you?" Susan asks. "No, Mother, I prefer booze, like you," he sasses. Peter has to play the heavy, referred to as "the plastic hippie" by his stepson. Apparently, Leigh has always thought Peter had his real father killed, and he blames his mother for both abandoning and spoiling him. In fact, he wants nothing to do with either of them and asks to be cut from their lives, for the most part (one assumes he'll still take their money). "Goodbye Mother, I'll write to you," he says insincerely, crushing fragile Susan even further.
Six months later, Michael has become his father's right arm on the yacht, blending into the family Nick has created along with Herbert and Kay seamlessly. However, one afternoon, Nick and company leave the boy in charge of the boat. His head is turned by two French cuties he invites aboard. Meanwhile, Nick proposes to Kay in a very cute way, but Kay uses Michael as an excuse. She feels the timing isn't right, but tells Nick to ask her again after the boy has had time to get used to things.
Herbert arrives with the news that Michael, trying to impress the girls, took the boat out and banged it up. Nick goes out furiously looking for him, roaming the streets all night. How will Nick handle it? Like his father would have, with a beating (that we see in a flashback)? Nope, not this Nick. He hugs his son and chirps, "tomorrow I'm going to show you how to fix a propeller."
Aww, that's sweet, and it would be a perfectly happy ending to the day if it weren't observed by returning William Smith, sporting a patch over one eye and a lot of hatred in the other.
We pick up the story three years after we last left it, in 1965. Susan, sober at breakfast, is still a bit touchy, especially when Peter's career intrudes on their time together. She has had no letter from her son, but she actually delights in a letter from Nick, who reveals in minute detail what has been going on with his yacht charter business. "Yeah, but is he making any money?" Peter asks, now as icy and cold as perhaps his old mentor Robert Reed. Nick and Susan came face to face with each other and settled their past in Chapter 10.
All is not actually well in this house. Knowing Nick needs rich people to charter his boat, which he has named after his long-ago love Fionnula Flanagan, Susan suggests Peter tell Van and his wife Dorothy Malone they should hire him. Yes, she admits she wants him gone for a while because "he scares me," although she can't explain why. Peter says he might have to bring his political backer home for lunch, which Susan takes as a warning not to get "looped before lunch."
Peter has to dart off to his old college, where he's donated some equipment to the school paper he once helped to run. The current editor, a youth of another generation, challenges him. He wants to know if Peter will run for national election in 1966, and Van Johnson asks if he would vote for him. Seemingly not, as Peter represents the old guard, though Peter reminds him of his voting record and that they actually may be on the same page. Peter takes the ribbing, which Van Johnson sees as a sign that Peter may have "the right touch" with the youth. The conversation then turns to Susan, whom Van hints is becoming a political liability. Peter suggests Van and Dorothy use Nick's boat.
And they do. The two arrive looking like the lead characters in "La Cage Aux Folles" (okay that's a cheap shot since Van Johnson still had the role of Georges in that show looming on his fading horizon), both sporting fake hair and lots of make-up. The only problem is that their cook has never materialized and the Van Johnsons were promised a good cook. The one they hired has landed himself in jail, but they find one in volunteering Kay Lenz, a perky blonde with legs for days (and a black eye from the cook who landed himself in jail by giving it to her). The snappy banter between Kay and Nick is proof that sparks will fly. That's been obvious since the movies started using sound, but it's a BIG ongoing way of introducing lovers in miniseries. She gets the job and the yacht "shoves off."
Kay has a hit with her first dish, fish chowder, which Van and Dorothy adore. "You better hang onto her, we may be taking her home with us," Van tells Nick, much to Dorothy's dismay. She's noticed her husband looking at Kay. She needn't worry, as Van Johnson plays this role gayer than any other role he played on film, and that's pretty damn gay, but then again, Dorothy Malone is intent on stealing whatever moment she can, even if it's campy and in a caftan.
Nick has of course fallen for Kay already, and acts like a goofy teenager around her, the second step to love after snappy banter in the handbook.
Two weeks go by, with Van and Dorothy having had a wonderful time, but Nick confides in Kay, now wearing nothing but skimpy bikinis, that they have no charters lined up and they desperately need money. He also tells her about his son and how his wife took him. "She was an alley cat...and so was I, no better," he notes, an awfully mature statement from our growing-and-learning bad boy. As for his son, it's rather unbelievable that nitwit Talia Shire has managed to keep him hidden all these years, especially now that bigwig Peter Strauss has people looking for him. But, that's Irwin Shaw's issue; we just have to deal with it.
Just when you thought there was no camp in "Rich Man, Poor Man," and I admit that we've made it through nearly 11 episodes with it relegated safely to Bill Bixby, who was dispatched ages ago, old hams Van Johnson and Dorothy Malone spew it all over the place. You see, Dorothy wants to get into port and Van orders Nick to do it. However, there are rocks in their path, so they have to take the long way, which will mean another night on board. Dorothy, stripping down to a very unflattering bathing suit (from a very unflattering caftan), threatens to swim back if the boat isn't turned the right way and Van, as drunk as she is, orders Nick to do so. Nick refuses and as Dorothy is wailing, Van Johnson punches Nick Nolte. Yes, Van Johnson, who spent much of his career cuddling up to the likes of Judy Garland, punches one of film's all-time badasses, Nick Nolte
Actually, Van departs, sober, apologizing for his behavior and giving Nick a lot more than promised, also telling him he'll refer his rich friends. Dorothy even tells Kay "you're a good cook." They want to book the entire month of June next year. See, sober movie stars can be humble. With violins going full tilt, Nick asks Kay to stay on permanently, wrapping her in his arms. After having had sex, Kay wants to know where the name of the boat came from, but he replies, "someone I knew I was a boy," which is the truth. His language is awfully flowery as he confesses his love to Kay.
Meanwhile, back in the USA, Peter has tracked down Nick's old manager Norman Fell, living in squalor, on his quest to locate Nick's son. It turns out that the mafia no longer cares about the vendetta and Nick is not only safe to return, but "he can lead the Columbus Day Parade down Fifth Avenue," in Norman's colorful language. Norman knows the name by which Talia Shire goes, but not where she lives. Peter calls Nick in France to tell him he's found his son and to get home immediately!
That's good news for Nick's son, but Susan's son is in trouble. He's being kicked out of school, which means he could be sent to Vietnam. Peter promises as soon as he reunites Nick and his son, they can fly to California and deal with her son.
So, what happened to Talia and the kid? Well, Talia divorced Nick on grounds of desertion (which she actually did to him), sent the kid to a military school and has become a hooker. "She's a professional. When I had her, she wasn't even a gifted amateur," Nick quips in a rare display of actual humor. Susan interrupts Peter's telling of the tale to Nick with a drunken harangue about her son again. Nick and Peter actually notice that perhaps their lives have turned. Nick is convinced that life would be the same if he had stayed: Peter would be successful and he would be the reject. But, Nick's boat is a success, he's happy and in love, while Peter has a stressful career and a wife he always wanted, neither of which bring him any happiness. Nick says aloud that he never knew "life could be so good." Oh, Nick, if only you knew! That is a miniseries kiss of death! But, you couldn't know that since you are helping to invent these questionable rules.
Nick goes to find his son Michael Morgan at the military school, but tight-ass colonel in charge has a file on the kid that says his father is dead. Nick flings his passport at him and then they exchange some witty banter about the kid's mother. Nick is informed that Michael has been "a problem" for fighting, but the colonel refuses to let the boy go until both parents agree to take him out. Nick shows him the file on Talia and they can't wait to get rid of him fast enough.
It's here, with only moments to go in the second to last episode of the piece, that we know for sure Nick's character has become a man. He gets a child. Sure, he sired the kid, but he was never a father. Only oceans of time and space have made him ready for the task. It's worth nothing that Peter, who has always been the stable one, doesn't have a child. His was miscarried and the only one he has access to is his wife's by a former marriage and he's living 3000 miles away. Once again, the question is asked, who is the rich man and who is the poor man? We're not talking about money anymore, we're talking about quality of life.
But perhaps we always have been.
But you knew that. We've been through enough together to be on the same page, my friends.
From there, it's off to California to meet Susan's son, future soap hunk Leigh McCloskey. He couldn't be less excited to see them. He's an ass from the start. Talking to Susan, in yet another turban, he confesses that his girlfriend's family doesn't like him, because they think he smokes pot. "Well, do you?" Susan asks. "No, Mother, I prefer booze, like you," he sasses. Peter has to play the heavy, referred to as "the plastic hippie" by his stepson. Apparently, Leigh has always thought Peter had his real father killed, and he blames his mother for both abandoning and spoiling him. In fact, he wants nothing to do with either of them and asks to be cut from their lives, for the most part (one assumes he'll still take their money). "Goodbye Mother, I'll write to you," he says insincerely, crushing fragile Susan even further.
Six months later, Michael has become his father's right arm on the yacht, blending into the family Nick has created along with Herbert and Kay seamlessly. However, one afternoon, Nick and company leave the boy in charge of the boat. His head is turned by two French cuties he invites aboard. Meanwhile, Nick proposes to Kay in a very cute way, but Kay uses Michael as an excuse. She feels the timing isn't right, but tells Nick to ask her again after the boy has had time to get used to things.
Herbert arrives with the news that Michael, trying to impress the girls, took the boat out and banged it up. Nick goes out furiously looking for him, roaming the streets all night. How will Nick handle it? Like his father would have, with a beating (that we see in a flashback)? Nope, not this Nick. He hugs his son and chirps, "tomorrow I'm going to show you how to fix a propeller."
Aww, that's sweet, and it would be a perfectly happy ending to the day if it weren't observed by returning William Smith, sporting a patch over one eye and a lot of hatred in the other.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)