Oh, I know, the fact that I'm referring to "Heaven and Hell, North and South, Book 3" as a sequel is not going to sit well with everyone.
The "North and South" novels of John Jakes came out in 1982, 1984 and 1987. Miniseries of Books 1 and 2 had both aired by mid-1986. Why not Book 3? There are differing answers on that one (Kristie's character was killed near the end of Book 2 and Patrick was well into movie superstardom to return to TV), but timing and Jakes' writing no doubt were factors.
North and South, Book 1
North and South, Book 2
However, as I see it, Book 3 is a desperate grasp as a miniseries. By 1994, when it aired, the American network miniseries was moribund. I've already noted in these pages that I consider "Scarlett," airing in 1995, the true end of the movement, so by 1994, certainly the networks knew they had just a few gasps left.
So, what could they do to go out with a bang? Well, they could have gone the route of "Scarlett" and used recent novels, as the Krantz and Steel factories churned out books faster than anyone could read them. They could have gone for a real-life or true crime story (which they did). They could also keep trying Stephen King books.
Or, they could dredge up past glories for a can't-lose movie, a last attempt to breathe life into a clearly dead genre. There was a "missing years" "Thorn Birds" miniseries that was dismal, Clavell would have been way too expensive, to say nothing of Wouk. Ah, but the "North and South" books of John Jakes (who already had a trilogy made into a miniseries in the golden days a decade and a half previously) had a dangling finale that was not filmed. Both "North and South" miniseries in the 80s were critically hailed and gigantic hits with audiences. Bingo, let's do it for the money.
Only, doing it for the money is a lousy reason to make a miniseries and it was bound to fail. One only need to look at "Lace II" for proof. Book 3 has a stale feel, a sad aroma of decay to it. A lot of the same actors are back, but you would hardly notice. Philip Casnoff is given one of the worst parts of his career, Leslie-Anne Down is turned into Scarlett-after-the-war, Terri Garber has very little to do and even the magnificent James Read looks totally bored. Thus, assuming money-grubbing decisions, I add "Heaven and Hell: North and South, Book 3" to the sequel pile along with "Lace II" and the equally unwatchable "Rage of Angels" sequel.
To be fair, "Heaven and Hell: North and South Book 3" is not a disaster like the two mentioned above. It is harmlessly impotent and dull, that's all.
Uh oh. The miniseries starts with a bit of narration by John Jakes. Who does he think he is, Judith Krantz? It's only a review, but it ends with Jakes telling us that somehow Philip Casnoff is still alive through some "quirk of fate." Oh, come on! He could have figured out a way to say that far better, but perhaps he was under torture to speak the line exactly as written.
Philip and his beloved Terri Garber, already overdoing it in her first lines, have come to extort money from the character once played by Patrick Swayze, but in this case an obvious double used in a nighttime scene. Terri trots off to have it out with Lesley-Anne Down, making a crack about "uppity" former slaves and Lesley-Anne's minuscule black heritage. Philip, drowning in dry ice haze, follows the man with the cane, stabs him and then relays a bit more plot review. At exactly the same time, Terri informs Lesley-Anne that she's going to take "everything you have…so enjoy it while you can" and flounces out the door.
When Terri makes her way through the fog and unlit streets exactly to the empty place where Philip has just killed her brother, she's horrified. She thought Philip was going to extort money. "What about me?" she asks. "I don't need you for what I'm going to do," he callously warns her. Hey, Ter, you lie down with dogs…
Enraged, Terri screams and runs in slow motion, pushing Philip off a bridge and one supposes he drowns, but of course one supposed the last time he was killed he actually was dead, so we'll wait and see if he's that lucky again.
Naturally, James Read is upset at his friend's death. "He survived it all only to have some coward knife him in the back?" he growls to his patient wife Wendy Kilbourne as he fishes out his half of the $10 bill that he's kept since early in Book 1. It's Wendy who tells him to go help Lesley-Anne. Probably not wise advice on any level.
The character of dead Patrick Swayze's brother, now being played by Kyle Chandler, meets Rya Kihlstedt, a penniless but pretty actress who declares he "will hear of" her, despite his knowledge of theater being limited to Edwin Booth (nothing can top the plight of 19th Century actors like "Centennial"). He's also in the military under an assumed name, though a squawking officer thinks he should be fired since he was part of the South.
Rya, as noted, is an actress, and wants to work with a troupe headed by a truly bizarre slumming vet. Not Liz Taylor from Book 1, not Wayne Newton from Book 2, but one of the least likely slummers in all of show business, Peter O'Toole. He isn't interested in her acting, he just wants someone to manage his books and "keep him sober," a delicious in-joke. "Everyone thinks they can act," Peter tells her, not having seen the rest of this movie, and tough Rya holds out for lead parts in exchange for taking care of him.
Another relative swoops down into the story, Robert Wagner, playing the deed owner of the once great family estate. A rather dour sort, he tells Lesley-Anne that if she fails to make any mortgage payments culled from her little vegetable garden run with the help of paid former slaves, he'll boot her out. Hearing that Lesley-Anne is educating her former slaves, he is invited to join the KKK, but declines, only to be reminded, "the war may be lost, but the cause ain't."
Mariette Hartley is hired as the plantation's teacher. She tells Lesley-Anne she was an abolitionist, as if that matters now (or in light of Lesley-Anne's efforts to help runaway slaves). A desk and windows are promised her as the school is being built, and she takes the job, "with enthusiasm," though it looks more like complete boredom. However, she shows spark soon after, when Lesley-Anne is turned away from church because of her racial history. "There is no blessing on this house of abomination," Mariette snaps to all, including Robert, who is uncomfortably in the middle of the ado. He again refuses to join the clan, but doesn't leave with Lesley-Anne either.
Into all of this, like a gallant knight, comes James, apparently not planning to stay more than a five minutes because he rides to the ruined plantation just on a horse, nothing else. He inquires about her husband's killer and is told no law and order actually exists in the South now.
Cue Richmond and the insane asylum where a raving lunatic holds court. Yup, once again, Philip Casnoff has cheated death! Tied to the bed, he remembers his rank, "the great sovereign state of Georgia" and a whole bunch of other things, but not his name. The doctor thinks he's perfectly sane and has him released.
Ever the pragmatic entrepreneur, James offers Lesley-Anne a business partnership in order to build a sawmill, which will only help her meager efforts. She keeps declining until he, of course, brings up that ripped $10 bill. "I do believe we have ourselves a deal," Lesley-Anne gushes.
Philip, walking no doubt to some magnetic dream of retaliation, stops, pulls out his knife and writes his character's name in the dirt. Has he remembered something? No time to dwell, we have new lovers to visit: Rya and Kyle, who has attended her performances and actually stayed awake. He wants to go out West, and though Rya assumes it's to "fight Indians," his kiss cancels out all worries, but they can't have sex in that little outdoor patch, "not for my first time with you," she notes (thats a rarity--a woman in an historical miniseries who openly admits she's not a virgin), so we take the act inside with glowing candles, sexy bodies and acres of violins and drums. Considering Kyle Chandler is the most handsome man in all three "North and South" miniseries, it's nice to look at, though stereotypically handled. After being insulted by a superior officer in a restaurant while with Rya, Kyle decided to pay a visit to his fie-year old son, explaining the story of his birth and his fiancée's death and promising a return to his new love.
Out in Santa Fe of all places, Terri has become perhaps the crankiest hooker in all that dry heat, until a piano salesman comes to spend the night, a shy retiring type who offers to help her get her home back (that pile of charred rubble, as we remember). She coos that the last man who tried to help her was killed. This guy doesn't even flinch hearing that. Said man is riding on the back of a wagon singing and crazy.
Kyle is set upon by his hateful superior and three others, beaten badly before Rip Torn shows up garbed as an Indian to chase them away. Sillier is Terri's plan to start actually making pianos with her regular john, using the madam's gold, hidden in a hole under the desk. "I don't have a gun," says Tom Noonan. "Well get one!" Terri bleats in exasperation. Silly and pathetic is Philip's plan, under an assumed name, taking a job in a railway station in order to bide time until James returns from his goodwill tour of Lesley-Anne's south.
With Reconstruction not even a possibility for such fluff, the movie lurches from one inane attempt of mid-1860s history to another. Rip Torn is, as you may have guessed, not an Indian, but rather a fur trapper with a "slightly touched" nephew who needs a partner good with a gun, since the last one was carved up by Indians. Forgetting his son and Rya, Kyle agrees to go into partnership with Rip and they continue on their westward journey. "I'm gonna learn you good about the Cheyenne…gonna learn you good so you can keep your head of hair," Rip, pure comic relief tells his new partner.
After a howler scene where Peter O'Toole was clearly not acting drunk as much as living it, Rya makes it her life's work to find Kyle and prove he's no deserted.
The sawmill is built on Lesley-Anne's land lickety split, and it seems Lesley-Anne is falling for her dead husband's best friend, who is feeling the same, but doesn't realize it. There are few worse acting mistakes than trying to out-ham one of the greatest hams of all, and Terri Garber, laying it on thick through three movies here, seems to think she can get away with the histrionics of Peter O'Toole. Not in a million years, sweetie. Even Peter O'Toole has no idea how to do it. Terri and Tom go to steal the bordello gold, though Tom has a conscience about it. She even has to kill making an escape.
There is a great deal of tension when Rip and company get to the Cheyenne settlement and warriors show up to do bate. They run into a "medicine tent," comparing it to a church, a sanctuary in which no blood will be spilled. The chief frees them, but the Indian who caused the flare-up is definitely not finished. In one of the other main plots about racism, Robert Wagner is unsure of whether to join the Klan or not. He doesn't feel he needs a hood, but their propaganda is strong and they give him the honor of lighting a cross. The Klan comes to Lesley-Anne's and former slave Stan Shaw sees them first, telling his fiancee to fetch the lady of the house. Lesley-Anne is brave in front of the hooded Klan, telling them to go ahead and burn the school in defiance, recognizing even RJ's voice, and they do torch Mariette's one-room schoolhouse.
The bad guys far outnumber the good ones, so while Wendy is waiting for her husband's train to bring him home, crippled and savagely bent on revenge, sneaks into her house. He rambles with a knife to her neck until James' horses can be heard and then stabs her. After finding his wife dead, he sees that Philip has written his name on the mirror in blood. "You bastard, I'll kill you. By God, I'll kill you," he avows with thunder crashing to heighten the effect. That's a natural way to end the first part.
"Heaven and Hell" is, so far, not any worse than any other miniseries of its time (admittedly faint praise), but it's not in a league with Books 1 and 2 because they had a centralized tension that was a part of every plot line. Yes, it was an overly familiar one: separation of family and friends across the divide of the Civil War. However, it had potency and believability, plus a whole lot of soapy plots as a distraction. What this one lacks is that centralized tension. Everybody is the same and feels the same. There are bad people, but only in a cardboard sense. When James Read and Patrick Swayze tangled over their opinions, it was painful to both of them because they knew they would be torn apart by them. Here? Well, Terri is a hooker stealing gold, Kyle gets mixed up with a shady fur trader, Lesley-Anne is so good to everyone that the Klan has to step in. So far, it's just a series of vignette plots adding up to…well, not much.
Stan and his cohorts vow to rebuild the school on the same site and defend it as well. Miniseries rules declare that when everyone smiles and makes promises, deus ex machine, a house falls on their metaphorical heads. A telegram of Wendy's death sends Lesley-Anne scurrying go meet George, whom she fears will never forgive himself for spending extra time with her and the school, though she does admit that Philip is a wicked man who…pause…pause…killed her husband! Mariette, the very prototype butch schoolmarm, convinces Lesley-Anne to stay put so the sawmill can be run and James' letter told her to stay away since Philip is on the loose.
We are re-introduced to Jonathan Frakes, James' brother with the shrewish wife, now played by Deborah Rush. Deborah wants Jonathan to run for the Senate and uses he funeral as a social gathering to push her agenda, even with General Grant. Deborah even has a scheme to use Jonathan's place at the Freedman's Bureau to go down south and buy cheap land, though he warns her against it. James says he's in no state of mind to decide anything, leaving decisions in his foreman's hands so Deborah doesn't do anything stupid and then hires a Pinkerton detective to find Philip (who is standing in front of a mirror trying on Wendy's earrings).
Hold in your laughter for the worst political gathering in miniseries history. The Republicans come to town to whip the former slaves into becoming loyal party members with the slogan "Liberty, Lincoln, Lee" and then reminding everyone that there are still potential slaves because there are still potential masters. Shameless huckstering is stopped by Stan, who gives a violin-laden speech about how even if they have not been paid yet, they are doing what they are going "because we want to…we is free now, and free men choose. What's the point of being free if you can't choose?" That stumps the politico and silences the room until the politico proposes Stan be the first delegate or the upcoming Charleston convention.
Terri and Tom are now in Chicago making pianos, and the first one is just about ready. Her plan to put one in every "cathouse" in the country seems to be foolproof. Except it has enough plot holes and idiocy to it to sink a fleet of ships. The soon-to-be husband and wife do not get along because he knows she's "vicious and greedy and vain" and the threats fly back and forth.
Covering a wanted sign of his mug, Philip goes to a war office to find out about Kyle, and is given an address of a man who corresponds regularly with him, though not currently since "sixth tree from the fourth hill in Indian territory" is not easily located by the Pony Express. Speaking of, Indians attack our threesome, killing Rip and the "touched" boy, leaving Kyle to bury them and continue on alone.
While Stan is celebrating his wedding with dancing and song, Lesley-Anne decides to go back to the house to tend to her child. Two Klan members want to lock the door and burn the revelers alive. Just as they are about to rape Leslie, a man arrives to chase them off, the geologist RJ hired to find out what is really on the land Lesley-Anne owns.
The snakes are assembling, which means Deborah pays a visit to RJ, flirting her way into finding out what she needs to know about the phosphates found on the land. Deborah has everything worked out to fine detail. She will give him the money he needs, he will have to worry about buying out Lesley-Anne and because of the "problem of labor," they will fund a general store where everyone works on credit, thus giving the owners "complete control." RJ tells Lesley-Anne of his plans, but the land isn't his until she defaults on payments, which is a distinct possibility given that the Klan busted the sawmill
Kyle's homecoming does not go as planned. Shabby, bearded and dirty, his son is afraid of him and Rya is angry. But, he cleans up, finds out about Philip and tries to dump Rya. She halts that by inviting him up to her room to "hold each other." He has a serious miniseries illness--the one that happens when you leave polite society for a time and have trouble readjusting when you return. Luckily, Kyle is still sexy to Rya, so some sex seems to be the cure. Well, to some degree, because he still takes a civilian scouting position, hoping also to hunt down Philip.
"I am regaining what you and others tried to take away from me…pride!" bellows Robert when Lesley-Anne begs him to drop the issue of credit that will lead to a new form of slavery for her friends and coworkers.
At a family dinner, James' sister-in-law Genie Francis returns and she's frightened because James has become so obsessed with Philip. Cue the Pinkerton, to say there is a woman out west whom Philip raped, but luckily she's alive, "but barely" and can hopefully provide details. He fears Kyle is Philip's next target. In an army camp, Kyle meets intelligent trickster Steve Harris and they become fast friends.
The Convention of Colored Men opens with Billy Dee Williams giving a rousing speech, eventually followed by everyone's favorite, Stan. As expected, his speech is beautiful and full of basic human heart and tears. Even the inevitable violins don't go too far into overdrive since this is one of those shoot-for-an-Emmy speeches (thought well done and not cynical). Stan is overwhelmed by the positive response, but when Billy Dee calls him "Mr.," he's happier than ever. "It ain't never been done before," he says, crying.
And, my miniseries minions, you don't need even two guesses to figure out what happens next, because we all know that when people are overwhelmingly happy in a miniseries, the worst is about to happen. Indeed, the Klan comes out of hiding to ambush him, sending his horse away (it makes it to the house where the women grab guns and form their own pose). Stan is lynched. Lesley-Anne chases them off.
Steve, doing well rising in the ranks, informs Kyle that his men want to see a play, so he goes to the theater in Leavenworth where initially no one will sell tickets to black men, but it's Rya who insists they sell the tickets or the company will not play in that theater. Their reunion is awkward, but even worse is Rya going all-out doing "King Lear." It's not the greatest rendition, but the again, Shakespeare wasn't always a guaranteed hit in Kansas. This time is different, though Peter carps during curtain calls to Rya that she changed lines and his staging. "I had something to say," she says. "And you said it," Peter-as-Shylock replies.
The month comes when Lesley-Anne cannot pay the mortgage and Mariette begs Lesley-Anne to go directly to James for help. She initially refuses, but Mariette spits out a sentence full of alliterative S sounds that convince Lesley-Anne. James wants to help, but he also wants Lesley-Anne, who feels the same way. When did these feelings arise? Certainly not until Book 3, because after all those cape-and-church clandestine meetings in Books 1 and 2, she and Patrick had eyes for no one but each other.
Finally, Kyle comes across the Indian who killed Rip when the Indians attack a wagon train of settlers. The wagons circle and from inside spring soldiers. The whole thing was a trap, but when Kyle, Steve and Steve's men rushed the area to help, they infuriate a commander who remembers Kyle, calling him a traitor and hoping he'll be hung. "You can go to hell," Kyle says and rides off.
Philip, in a new guise that has him looking like a Shakespearean Moor, kidnaps Kyle's son and writes his name in flour on the kitchen counter where bread was being made. As for Kyle, he's gone to the Cheyenne to ask for permission to kill the man who killed Rip and to warn them that soldiers are coming. No sooner does that sentence escape his mouth than the commander with the attitude starts howling again about how "they breed like rabbits" and "red devils" seem to be his preferred moniker for the gang. A slow motion montage shows a complete slaughter of the Indians. Kyle aims for the commander, but decides not to kill him. At least not yet. As the commander reaches for his gun, Steve steps him and stops it from happening. Kyle leaves and only the Indian he has been chasing is still alive to exact revenge in a war that would last far longer than the Civil War. So ends the second part of the movie.
In the miniseries least interesting plot, Kyle and his Indian nemesis (Gregory Zaragoza) meet alone in a field. The fight lasts about 8.2 seconds and Kyle doesn't even break a sweat besting Gregory. However, he doesn't kill him. He harms him and then tends to his wounds. Awwww, new friends.
On Capitol Hill, James visits his brother Jonathan Frakes, who, in one scene, attempts to dethrone fellow overactors Terri and Rip Torn, and even makes headway besting Peter O'Toole. Jonathan pretends to be shocked when James tells him of the scams down south, but says "we have no jurisdiction there." He has no idea of the fact that his wife Deborah is behind it all while he works at the Freeman's Bureau and forced her to sell her interest in her company to James for $1. Jonathan throws his wife out of their house, telling her, "I never want to see your face again!"
Also unhappy is Deborah's business partner, Robert Wagner, who agrees to work with them since the other option was to bought out. But, James is in his element with a new project to keep him busy. He has a list of demands for the foreman, undoing all of the evil at the plantation and general store. He also gets closer to Lesley-Anne, who packs him baskets full of food for picnics. When Philip's name comes up, James says over and over, "I'll get him." And he probably will, since miniseries heroes always get their man, but most of the time because of an accident so no one has to be hauled into court.
Unable to sleep, James sits outside where Lesley-Anne pop over and finally they can confess their love for each other. Their sex scene is notably awkward, at times just plain creepy!
Pure happiness in a miniseries is an oxymoron, because James received a telegram saying Philip has kidnapped Kyle's son, so he's dashing to St. Louis to take care of the situation. Lesley-Anne begs him not to go and he says he's only doing it for the family, promising to return.
Terri and Tom buy the most expensive house in DC and manages to get a list of all the most influential people, throwing a party and doing Scarlett O'Hara again. Tom is not at all thrilled at her behavior, asking what he can do to make her even happier and she says the only thing is her family plantation.
Detective James visits Rya, promising to bring Kyle back. He then enlists Kyle's army pal, the magic-loving Steve sends him Abilene, where Kyle has become the town drunk. He is passed out and Philips finds him in the drunk tank, teasing with the viewer by giving Kyle a shave. But, he doesn't kill him. When James and is ever-increasing band of merry men find Kyle, they also find a map on the way that Philip left for them. There has to be something bad afoot, because that would be too easy an stupid.
As if the kid understands, Philip tells him his entire plan for killing everyone left in the story. Most baffling is that he decides to go into Indian Territory to create his own kingdom where he can kill whoever he wants. As the good guys plan to capture Philip and get Kyle's son back, Robert Wagner, who is wearing a false beard so ungainly even his acting style which is to barely twitch a muscle, is in danger of knocking it off, is with his KKK buddies. He has more important things to do than hunt ex-slaves. He wants to destroy everything James has.
Slowly, James, Kyle and Steve track Philip across the whole Indian Territory (which seems to be about 10 square feet because they keep passing the same trees over and over again. What Philip doesn't know is that Kyle's son is dropping rocks like breadcrumbs of children's stories. A woman whose husband is trafficking buffalo gives Philip and the boy, "not right in the head" as per Philip, feeds them, but doesn't believe Philip's story and pulls a gun on him. Philip then kills a man for absolutely no reason and has the man's Indian lady friend bury him.
Who brings this news of having seen the boy to our trio of heroes? Kyle's Indian friend, who says he will help and then that's it as "I won't owe you anything."
Just as RJ is making a deal, Terri comes flouncing in, agenda as obviously as her cleavage. Terri has the money to buy it, but RJ reminds her that Lesley-Anne is there and making the payments. Terri has a plan for that too.
Kyle's Indian pal locates the kid and offers to take the guys there. Both he and Steve, neither of whom have a real stake in finding the boy, want to help. Steve pretends to be in need of a place to rest, dragging out the story to give Kyle and James an opportunity to get into position, while Philip tells Steve the Indian woman "is for sale too. $3 a whack." The kid sees his father, which means everyone has to jump into a kerfuffle, killing the Indian woman, but getting the kid. James rips his dead wife's earring off Philip's ear and in the middle of Philip's defiant speech, he's lynched.
That leaves just Lesley-Anne's plot to wrap up. RJ and his cohorts plan to kill her and take what they feel is theirs. RJ's wife hears the conversation, begging him not to be a part of it, but he roughly makes it clear this is not a woman's business and she best not say anything. However, the wife slips away and informs Lesley-Anne of the plans. James and Kyle rush to protect Lesley-Anne and fight the clan. Rya is upset that Kyle is leaving again and tells him she may not be there when he returns, so he gets about 10 steps and decides to choose his lady friend over helping Lesley-Anne, but wouldn't you know, Rya reminds him that "you always keep your word," so she is confident enough in his word, she tells him to go.
A gloating Terri shows up at her plantation to inform Lesley-Anne that she bought the deed from RJ and wants Lesley-Anne gone. They two are in the middle of an escalating fight when Tom shows up, telling Terri he never transferred the money from one account to another, so she doesn't own the property. Terri sees that the only part of her ancestral home is that pile of columns and her version of fiddle-dee-dee is "you know, I didn't want it anyway."
Terri's plot has come to the end, but the Klan is still planning an attack. Everyone at the plantation works together to erect barricades (which don't look very scary), they test their guns (very old) and anticipate the coming of the Klan, now singing around a burning cross. Can the train carrying James and Kyle make it in time?
Lesley-Anne gets to comfort everyone: former slaves who have never fought, the overseer, who wants to kill RJ and a hysterical Mariette. When the Klan approaches, it's the ragtag bunch who fire the first shots. They have the dynamite, which helps them, but the Klan is losing this one. "I will never surrender," one howls…and then gets shot to death. Robert grabs Lesley-Anne and rides off with her though followed closely by James and Kyle. RJ has the opportunity to kill James and Lesley-Anne, but hesitates and a fellow Klan member kills him only to be shot dead himself by James.
James and Lesley-Anne end up in a clinch among the ruins of the plantation, wondering whether to rebuild or not.
And now, we are officially done with "North and South." Two out of three ain't bad!
Showing posts with label philip casnoff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label philip casnoff. Show all posts
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Sinatra (1992)
If you idolized Frank Sinatra when he was lanky heartthrob, adored him as a Rat Pack leader or even felt the glow of nostalgia in his latter confusing years, the 1992 "Sinatra" is the miniseries for you. If you want the truth, I suppose you should go find Kitty Kelly or Ray Liotta. This "Sinatra" was produced while Old Blue Eyes was still alive (by his daughter Tina, no less, the one with no career of her own other than carrying Dad's torch, a step lower than Frank Jr. and Nancy, who don't do much more), so it's a very adoring, no, make that slavishly adoring, biopic. There are some outbursts and some unsavory characters, but this Frank Sinatra gleams as innocently and brightly as he did as far back as the 1930s.
The soundtrack is by Sinatra himself, so like this movie or not, the music is terrific.
Hoboken, NJ, 1925. Ten-year-old Frankie is already something of a little hoodlum, stealing cigarettes and sheet music. He gets his gall from his mother Dolly (Olympia Dukakis), helping the poor by arranging jobs and making sure the Mayor owes her favors. The minute little Frankie walks into his parents' bar, the denizens beg him to sing, "with feeling." "With feeling costs a nickel," enterprising Frankie tells them before launching into "My Wonderful One." He sasses both Mom and Dad (Joe Santos), but they are helpless against his charm. Frankie wants to a boxer. "Just what the world needs, another punch-drunk palooka," Dolly quips. She wants him to carry a sign at a rally for the Mayor the next day, but he refuses to participate unless he can sing the national anthem. "It's not a love song, Rudy Valley, it's the 'Star Spangled Banner,'" Dolly tells him when she sees him mugging to young girls in the crowd.
A few years pass and miniseries hunk Philip Casnoff joins us the older Sinatra. He doesn't look like Frank (he's must more handsome), but he has the mannerisms down pretty well. He informs his parents that he wants to be a singer, "to be someone," but his father tells him if he doesn't work, he can't stay at home, live there or eat there. So, off he goes to New York City and makes the rounds looking for an agent and work.
Frank brazenly goes backstage at a burlesque theater and asks if they need a singer. You know 'It Had To Be You?'" the manager asks. He does, and stands center stage singing it (Casnoff lip syncs to Sinatra doing it) while the few men present crowd long for any scrap of female flesh that can be produced. He sneaks home to his mother, who says, "get in here, you little son-of-a-bitch" just before a neighbor rushes in with the news that Marty has been taken to the hospital. Father and son kind of reconcile, at least if Frankie will "come home and get a real job."
"Hey, I'm Frank, you're Nancy," Frank says when he strides across the street to meet Nancy (Gina Gershon) and get an impromptu manicure since he sees her doing hers. He gives her a few bars of "Ain't She Sweet" on his ukulele and then meets her on the beach with her large family the next day. Frank accepts a job with Nancy's father as a plasterer. Her father is also salt-of-the-earth, so when one of the female family members says, "he's dreamy," Papa says, "he's a dreamer." Nonetheless, he is eager to teach Frank to appreciate opera and it affords Frank the chance to take singing lessons from Mr. Quinlin (Jeff Corey). His peppy version of "Stormy Weather," doesn't impress the teacher because "you don't understand the words." Frank is not deterred. He wants to learn anything he can be taught. The combination of starting from scratch with Mr. Quinlin and listening to opera with Nancy's father does the trick in a handy montage. Eventually, he has to quit the plastering job because he can't manage the schedule of work and singing lessons. "No work, no Nancy," her pop tells Frank.
When has that ever stopped two youngsters in heat? Witless lover dialogue pretty much sets it up: "I don't wanna lose you," says he. "I don't wanna lose you," says she. It's Nancy, with one line of dialogue, who convinces Frank to go for it again. So, he auditions with "Stormy Weather," this time for Major Bowes (Jay Robinson), who puts him in a group, not exactly what Frank had in mind, but he does make Frank the lead singer. Major Bowes anoints them "The Hoboken Four" and gives them "Shine" to sing. And with that, Frank gets to tour the country with the Major Bowes Amateur Hour, once again using flirtation as a hallmark of his performance style. The girls go for it in a big way, much to the annoyance of the other three group members. So, the scrappy lad ditches Major Bowes and returns to Hoboken and Nancy's waiting arms.
He finds out that Dolly has been arrested for being an "abortionist." She defends her actions because it's the Great Depression and she's helping people who already have too many mouths to feed. "Most people don't make $75 a month and if they did, they wouldn't quit," she yells at him, outraged that he would give up his $75 A WEEK job! Nancy chooses to believe Frank when he says he quit the job because he was "afraid he might lose" her, but this is while they are in bed necking to King Edward VIII's abdication speech. Nancy wants to elope, but Frank insists they have a real wedding, with her gown "covering the floor like the first falling snow." Oh, my stars, where the hell did he dig up that groaner?
When Frank gets a job in the middle of nowhere singing with just a piano between the band's sets, he's told by the bandleader that his name is "too I-talian." When he's introduced that night, Dolly loudly grumbles, "who the hell is Frankie Trent?" Frank has to wheel on the piano player (who is blind and told to "shut your eyes, you're scarin' the customers") while singing "Pennies From Heaven" for tips.
For a tiny bit of "Francis Albert Sinatra, No Saint Was He," the movie tosses in a groupie who refuses to take no for an answer and they have sex in the car. This takes up all of three seconds and is done through fogged-up windows. However, the girl ends up pregnant and Frank is arrested on a morals charge. His explanation to fiancee Nancy is that the girl is married and "there is a whole string of guys." But, Nancy is angry, especially since she has already given up her virginity to him! He swears fidelity to Nancy so many times that he says, "if I swear anymore, God will strike me dead." "Good, you deserve it," she replies, but of course she'll forgive him. And marry him, in a big white dress, just as promised.
Harry James (Matthew Posey) comes to hear Frank sing one night and offers him a job touring with his orchestra on the spot, if he changes his name to Frankie Satin. "I like Sinatra," Frank says and it sticks. He tours and even records. Just as Harry announces they have a gig in Chicago for the holidays, Frank finds Nancy puking in the toilet. He doesn't want pregnant Nancy going on the road with him, predictably. It's late 1939, the news is that "The Reds Invade Finland," but Frank wants to jump from the James band to that of Tommy Dorsey (Bob Gunton). Dorsey gives him a terrific offer (though 42% of it goes to Dorsey "for life"), too good an offer to refuse. "If Harry lets you out," Dorsey cautions. James does and with no rancor, just a hug for Frank. A quarter of the way through the movie and more than that of Frank's life and Frank has been an angel, making no enemies and only officially sleeping with one woman besides beloved Nancy.
Things are not immediately smooth with Dorsey and company. Buddy Rich (Tommy Simotes) rides him for being late (on the drums, of course). Dorsey wants him to sing the previous singer's song, and Frank won't. Cocky as all get out, he declines the use of a lyric sheet for "I'll Never Smile Again" because he knows the words, and of course sings it perfectly the first time out. Even Mama Dolly sways to the gentle version on the radio and Nancy gazes into space hearing it.
"We have a problem," a hotel manager says, "we don't serve Coloreds here," referring to Sy Oliver (John Wesley). This is the first time the famous Sinatra temper flares up in this movie. "Give him the key or I'm gonna wreck this barn. I said give him the key!" Frank brays, pulling the hotel manager by the tie. And this was before all that Chairman of the Board crap.
Confident as ever, Frank has a wow of a conversation with Dorsey late one night. "So, what's your signature song gonna be?" Tommy asks. "I don't want a song, I want a sound. You see, TD, if I can do with my voice what you can do with a trombone, I can knock the whole gang right off the charts." How the hell is Dorsey supposed to follow that? "Breath control" is all he can say. Frank's mixture of undying self-esteem and talent seems to push through any roughness. When Frank launches into "I'll Never Know," the scene is pretty, but the recording used is of very poor quality, and obviously Frank couldn't re-record it. Strange to include that scene, which doesn't further the movie at all.
Frank asks Dorsey for time off to be at the birth of his first child. "When an entertainer is at the birth of his children, it means he's not working. You are!" Dorsey thunders. Frank offers Dorsey the godfather role to his kid, but Dorsey can sling the crap just as well as Frank. He tells him the band is going to be in a movie and that "Billboard is going to name you Top Band Vocalist." That one hits Frank and he forgets about the kid. Instead, he asks Dorsey for not more money, not better billing (which Dorsey was willing to give), but "more strings." By the next tour stop, not only are there an acre of violinists supporting Frank, but even a harp!
The only person not bowing at the altar of Sinatra is Buddy Rich, but since he keeps referring to Frank as a "grease ball," he loses all credibility as a person. And that, my friends, is how you write a movie about people still alive and keep them happy (Rich had died in 1987, so no one needed to walk on eggshells for his sake). In fact, when the two get into a physical altercation that Frank starts over Rich's inability to keep to Frank's tempo, Dorsey takes Frank's side, but only quickly because Nancy is on the phone, complaining that he's never around to talk to her. Since poor Gina Gershon is directly to be as annoying as possible in this scene, Frank still seems like a hero, even though he's clearly not walking on the straight-and-narrow.
In Hollywood, filming a totally insignificant song in a totally insignificant role in a totally insignificant movie, Frank says "I can't sing to a camera," so the director puts a girl in a chair near the band so Frank can focus his attention on her. In the scene and in bed, where he becomes a tiger. But, wait, folks! He doesn't actually do anything but mack on the girl, all clothing on, when his mother calls with the news that he has a daughter. Again, that's how we keep Francis Albert Sinatra and family happy but still remain somewhat faithful to the past. "I'm a father!" Frank says to the girl. "I don't know what to say," she replies. "How about goodbye?" How very family man-esque of him, no?
The rest of the world is still revolving. Frank gets home to Hoboken to celebrate with Nancy and his family, Dorsey in tow. Dolly nags about Frank's billing and Marty has asthmatic attacks while rummaging through old photo albums. And the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor. Patriotism was good for the Big Band Era.
Frank's career is taking off just when Nancy needs him at home. "You have no right to stop me," he yells. "I don't want to stop you. I want you to be the greatest singer there is. I just don't want to lose you," she whines, to an assurance that he will never leave her. Frank quits Dorsey, though with a year's notice, especially since Dorsey owns over 40% of him. Oh, wait, the latter might not be true anymore, especially since Frank now has a fleet of lawyers, producers and big companies behind him. "You know, not everyone thinks you are as talented as you do. Personally? I hope you fall flat on your face," Dorsey says in frustration.
Initially, the owner of the Paramount Theatre doesn't think Frank can fill it. "You've got a small voice," he's told. "The girls will fill the Paramount," one of his minions says. Indeed they do. Lines of them fight to get in. Frank is on the bill with Benny Goodman (David Kimball), performing what is easily the most complex and important Big Bang contribution. "And now, Frank Sinatra," Goodman announces to screams of delight from the crowd and the legend of the bobbysoxers is born (though the rendition of "Where or When?" is another tinny version that could have been cleaned up for the soundtrack). Casnoff nails the Sinatra presence, the light-as-air performance style and especially the connection with the harpie fans. Even Nancy is impressed.
Everyone Frank knows is on the payroll. Nancy goes over the bills and signs autographs for him while Frank tends to the parts he enjoys. He's loving life in Hollywood, where MGM is putting him under contract. Nancy wants him home, since she's pregnant again, but life on the East Coast is pretty much done. He misses the birth of his second child, despite promises he would be there. "You are 0 for 2," Dolly tells him when she picks up phone, saying it "had a guilty ring." Pretending to be asleep, Nancy cries. He can't get to Nancy because he first has to meet President Roosevelt.
And then it hits. A cliche moment that always has to happen in any miniseries about a real person. Frank and Nancy are arguing about giving Dolly money over and over and Nancy turns to Frank to say (you can say it along with her), "I don't know who you are anymore." Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Luckily, the conversation doesn't go any further than that, but even just the one sentence is one cliche too many. He's having way more fun with his fans and his entourage. Looking at Philip croon "I Fall in Love Too Fast," he actually looks like Sinatra. Until an egg is thrown at him by an angry boy, "on the night my father comes to see me!" bellows Frank.
With fame comes the underside of fame: the boy with the egg, the morals charge popping up out of legal death, the press twisting his words, the fact that he's not in the war and the hellish schedule that has him drinking heavily. He yells at his entourage a lot, but also treats like them like family. Worries are suddenly chucked out when Marilyn Maxwell (Carol Barbee) arrives backstage to spend some personal time with Frank.
The family moves to Hollywood so Frank can take on his first real role, but he has demands. The studio is willing to throw the biggest names in songwriting his way, but he wants Jules Styne (then just about to start a Broadway career) and Sammy Cahn. "They don't start Monday morning, neither do I," he insists. The conversation ends abruptly when Frank sees Ava Gardner (Marcia Gay Harden) walk by. She's crying over her latest dust-up with Artie Shaw, but he makes her laugh.
Nancy learns how to drive a car, but a fancy car isn't to her liking. "There's no room for the groceries," she whines. Her mother says, "the way he eats, you could fit them in here" and opens the glove compartment to find a jewelry box containing a heart bracelet. Let's assume it's not for her. Frank's roving attention hits Nancy square in the face during a New Year's party they host (with Sammy Davis and Bogie, among others), when Nancy sees Marilyn wearing the bracelet from the car! As the countdown reaches it's zenith, Nancy orders Marilyn "out of my house."
The next morning, Nancy lays into Frank. "It's nothing," he assures her, regarding Marilyn. "It's not nothing to me," she says. He replies with another star biopic cliche that better writers could have found a way around: "It's just there's so much pressure. It doesn't let up for a second. Sometimes I feel like climbing the walls." That one appears in every male-with-a-wandering-penis movie about a star. The rest of the conversation follows familiar track, including the expected, "maybe we should go away together, just the two of us," but Frank pricks a hole in that one. How about nights together? The next film is to be filmed in NYC, so that won't work either.
As a reporter gets a soundbite out of Frank about Communism that will no doubt come back to haunt him, he gets in a car with pal Peter Lawford, he meets Gene Tierney, snuggled up with JFK. Loyal agent George Evans (Joe Grifasi) tries to get Frank to play nice with the press (instead of slugging them), to not get his mug on the front page with a dame who isn't his wife and to even stop drinking because it's ruining his voice. "Go away for a few days...no women!" So, Frank takes a few days off in Havana, where he's photographed with Lucky Luciano, among other notorious mobsters. Frank doesn't see the harm in knowing Luciano. "I drive the getaway car," he jokes, and then adds to George, "you said no women. You didn't say anything about mobsters." George begs him to stop his trip down "this self-destructive path."
We met Sammy Davis Jr. (David Raynr) again for a split second because Frank decides to knock out right-wing columnist Lee Mortimer, which lands him in jail. LB Mayer calls him and tells him to apologize. Never one to admit his mistakes, Frank gets rip-roaring drunk and dresses as a priest to meet his pals at Romanoff. This is the perfect place for a tirade. Bogie tells him to get some sleep so he can work. "Work. This isn't work. They dress me funny and I sing. If they gave me 'Hamlet,' they would make me sing," he rails. Frank is ruining his career and he wants his marriage to be over, though Nancy is pregnant again. But mainly, his problem is "I lost it. I lost the feeling."
Even the fans have disappeared. Columbia wants to let him go and he's not even upset. "I'm only 33...is it all over at 33?" "It's a big pendulum, you'll come back," he's assured. He does perk up when he sees Ava Gardner in the hotel lobby. She grabs his arm and takes him to see Billie Holliday (Leata Galloway) perform. That's the spark they need to start their intense affair, one that became Hollywood legend in no time. They are physical wild animals together. Ava is far more practical (and experienced), so when Frank wants to see her again, she purrs, "it was just a brief moment, Francis. Let's not make history out of it." No one has ever refuse Frank before! That makes him even more obsessed, phoning in Christmas with his family and not able to concentrate on his new film.
Though Ava was not married when she met Frank, he was, but somehow, the movie makes her the villain. She yells at him and then kisses him passionately. She toys with him horribly. "It's not enough for you to have a guy, you gotta mess with his head too?" Frank says, grabbing her. That sets Ava off, demanding that he never touch her like that again. "It's never gonna work between us," she says.
As for Nancy, she knows the gossip, and Frank decides it's time to move out. "Come home, Frank. You belong here," she assures him. "Then why don't I feel it?" With that, Nancy is forced to agree. As much as they try, Frank and Ava can't stay apart. When he's singing at a fancy club, Ava, appearing from the mist, walks slowly down the center aisle, drops her fur to reveal a gorgeous outfit. "Every chick in here wants to be you and every cat in here wants to be me," he tells her as they walk very slowly to their table in order to show off. Frank can't keep calm when a photographer snaps a picture of him with Ava, ripping out the film and pushing the guy.
The affair with Ava, volatile as it is, exacts a heavy toll on Frank (of course it does, since this is a rough episode in Frank's life that cannot be ignored, no matter how many children were involved in the making of this film). His faithful George has a heart attack and dies trying to get him out of one scrape or another. MGM drops his contract. "Ah, what the hell? They never gave me a decent role anyway," he says, trying to sound okay, but clearly devastated. He wants Ava by his side, but she has her own career to think about and can't afford to be with him as he heads to London for a singing gig.
However, as he's singing, sounding particularly broken-hearted, Ava actually does show up so Frank can see her in the wings. Naturally, a song is picked that has lyrics matching the exact moment the end of the first portion requires.
What of Nancy? She remains supportive, begging him to "take a rest" when he complains that he is dreading performing. "It doesn't mean anything to me anymore, nothing does," the complaining crooner says, actually speaking of Ava. "Why do you want to hold onto me if I don't want to be here?" he coldly asks her. She believes he will tire of Ava and come back to her.
Things hit rock bottom when Frank gets on stage and cannot sing, spitting blood into his handkerchief. Unfortunately, it's at the Copa in Hollywood, so everyone knows instantly what's going on. The news reporting it says, "that's the old Frank here's the new Frank, Frankie Lane..." and that radio gets switched off immediately. He's supposed to be on complete vocal rest, but when he sees a picture of Ava in the paper with another man, he gets the first plane to Spain where she's filming a movie. Her handsome co-star speaks no English, so Frank gets even nastier. "This is my woman, mi senorita, so adios!" he tells the poor guy. As always, being with Ava brings out the worst in both, but once they get the arguing done, then it's happiness and loving, at least until the next argument. "You're kinda cute when you can't speak," Ava says as Frank presents her with an expensive necklace.
On a rainy romantic day, sweetness in bed turns into a brawl because Ava says he's not "trying hard enough" to divorce Nancy and he can't have both women. "This is torture, Frank. It's wrecking my career. I can't do this anymore," she says. "Two minutes ago, we were happy. What happened?" "I was being a sap. I want you to go home and get a divorce," Ava demands and stalks out.
Back to the Paramount, the site of Frank's biggest success, he goes, but the joint is empty and after that, bookings are few and nothing exciting. Things are so bad that when he goes to light a cigarette at the stove and the pilot does not light, he can kill himself. So, he turns the gas all the way up. Luckily, he's caught in time (obviously). Did this ever really happen? It's tough to believe that someone like Frank Sinatra ever thought of suicide, but easier to accept the fact that it makes for a pungent dramatic twist. "It's torture when we're together and worse when we're not," Ava tells him as a way to cheer him up (?). With Ava in the audience at a New Jersey concert, he can sing perfectly.
It's at this concert that Frank meets Sam Giancana (Rod Steiger), and though Ava is worried that he's in the mafia, Frank says he owes his career to men like that. Even more unlikely in this room is columnist Earl Wilson, and it takes all of Ava's charm to get him to agree not to print a story about seeing her there.
Except Earl Wilson prints an article calling Frank and Ava Romeo and Juliet, which Nancy carps makes her "a villain for trying to keep my family together." For the 53rd time, Frank begs for a divorce, but this time, it works. When word gets out, a reporter asks Frank, "what are your wedding gifts to each other, boxing gloves?" Ava takes it all in stride, but when another reporter asks if it will be a "white wedding" Frank pushes him to the ground and breaks his camera. Ava, naturally, does not wear white. Set to "They Can't Take that Away From Me," Frank and Ava have a montage of great moments, even if one of them is a jealous spat ending in a kiss.
Ava is off to Africa to shoot "Mogambo" with Clark Gable and Frank doesn't trust her, so he goes along. He's obsessed with "From Here to Eternity" and knows the role of Maggio could revitalize his career. The heat is unbearable, but Ava thinks she might be pregnant, which is not good news for her because this role is too important for her. Frank gets good news, a telegram in Africa (uh huh) saying Columbia Pictures has agreed to test him for "From Here to Eternity" and though Ava isn't at all thrilled, he asks her for money to get back to the US.
The screen test is powerful, with Frank giving a tour-de-force, but bad news comes when Frank is told that Ava collapsed in Africa and was rushed to a hospital in London. When he gets there, she's actually in a hotel room dressed for dinner. "I was pregnant and now I'm not. I don't want to talk about it," she tells him. The loss of the baby is left a little vague, but if you bet on abortion, I think you have the safer bed. He thinks having a baby would be good for the marriage. "Did having a baby bring you and Nancy closer together?" she asks dryly? Ouch. Ava is off to a New Year's Eve party, and Frank roars, "walk out of that door and you walk out of my life!" However, the incessant pattern of good versus bad comes back AGAIN and Frank gets a call that he's won the part of Maggio. Unable to accept his success, Ava leaves while he's still on the phone.
As we all know, Frank wins a Best Supporting Actor Oscar (at the expense of a horse, if "The Godfather" is accurate) and his career is back, bigger than ever. He does movies and records, in that ring-a-ding-ding period of his life where he could do no wrong. Yet another montage takes care of the passage of time.
Frank misses another family event, but this time he has a good reason, Sammy has been in a car accident. We've seen Sammy twice, and only for half a second each time, but now he has a full dramatic scene, where he wonders how he'll dance with only one eye. "If I can't dance, I don't want to live," Sammy says as Frank trade vulgarities like teenagers. Frank takes him into the steam room in Vegas where the entire Rat Pack is gathered wearing eye patches like Sammy. Even JFK is there. Dino (Danny Gans) joins them and the three do pretty much the Rat Pack schtick, racism and all. When Frank introduces girlfriend Juliet Prowse from the stage, Mama Dolly quips, "what's he got at his front door, a turnstile?"
Well, speaking of JFK, he's running for President and Papa Joe comes a-callin' on Frank to enlist his friend Sam Giancana's help in securing the election. "What's in it for you? They gonna make you Ambassador to Italy or somethin'?" Sam wonders, but agrees to help. Frank loves being pals with the Kennedys, but practical Bobby Kennedy wants Sammy Davis removed from campaigning because he's black and about to marry white Mai Britt. Bobby has some god-awful reasoning to convince Frank to make Sammy back down, but he doesn't have to worry, because Sammy knows what's going on and even postpones his wedding.
Frank goes to visit "Chicky Baby" JFK in his new digs at the White House. Jack is excited for an upcoming visit to Los Angeles where he will stay with Frank, busy making "improvements" so the whole staff can fit. "I'll see you in the spring," Jack says to Frank on his way out. It's Peter Lawford who is sent to break the news to Frank that the Presidential visit is not happening. "You got no loyalty, you got no guts," Frank yells at Peter for taking sides with the Kennedys against him.
And the mob isn't any happier. With Bobby Kennedy cracking down on the mafia, Sam Giancana and his friends are in trouble and Frank is their link, though Frank is persona non grata at The White House pretty quickly. Sam wants payment on the favor of delivering West Virginia in the election, but Frank says he's the one who asked for the favor, not the Kennedys. It's getting very complicated. Frank has to shed friends just to look proper, but he packs them off with goodies like his music publishing company.
During his European tour, Frank gets to spend time with Ava in Spain, where she now lives. Why Spain? "They got people, real people," she says. He asks her to marry him again. "What could you possibly miss about me?" she asks and bolts. From here, it's the "One For My Baby" mini-montage where Frank watches JFK's funeral procession and cries.
On the set in 1965, Frank meets Mia Farrow (Nina Siemaszko). Frank offers an autograph and she jokes, "no, who are you?" Cue "You Make Me Feel So Young" as Frank and Mia begin their oddball romance. Poor young Mia isn't thrilled with Frank's house, as it's filled with pictures of Ava, and Frank never really cottons to Mia's vibe, which is anything but Old Hollywood. She meditates and reads (take that Ava) and wears love beads. They marry with Frank looking like he's getting hitched to Rosemary's baby itself. Oh, and she has bad taste in music. "It's not music, it's crap," Frank bellows as he grumbles about the state of music. Mia does have one good comeback when he complains about bad lyrics, going through the do-be-do-be-dos of "Strangers in the Night." They have the again inevitable conversation about her advancing career, she wants a baby ("my kids grew up thinking the telephone was their father") and he doesn't, and finally Mia puts her finger on it. "Hey, I'm not Ava!"
In other words, the marriage is doomed from the start. Rather than rehashing conversations Frank has had with either Nancy or Ava (mostly Ava), we breeze through the whole kooky romance at top speed. None of those glamorous sable-and-satin-drenched arguments like Frank and Ava, just stilted phone conversations and bing-bang-boom, it's over. One supposes that the Sinatra children were not at all fond of Stepmother Mia, because the rush job is very obvious.
By the time Frank divorces Mia, he's graying and getting heavy. But, the nurses at the hospital where Marty is dying still think he's pretty foxy. Frank confides in his father that "I'm thinking of leaving the business...I'm tired, tired of being in the spotlight. The music business changes so fast, I can't keep up with the next guy anymore. Maybe I should stop trying," he tells the man who never expected him to make it. He retires, just as he promised his father before Marty expired.
Less than two years later, in 1974, retirement is over. "That's Life." We're now into the tux and toupee years. But, he sells out Madison Square Garden and they still throw roses to the stage. No underwear, for granny panties aren't particularly aerodynamic. At the end of the song, Frank blows a kiss to the audience and the move ends.
Frank Sinatra never seemed so squeaky clean, but you know what? That's not such a bad thing. Despite the temper and such, he was one of the greatest entertainers of the 20th Century and he did lead a colorful life. It may not have been the Technicolor one on display here, but it was a great ride.
Comments? Questions? Laughs? Feel free to email me at hpmaraka@gmail.com so we can chat.
The soundtrack is by Sinatra himself, so like this movie or not, the music is terrific.
Hoboken, NJ, 1925. Ten-year-old Frankie is already something of a little hoodlum, stealing cigarettes and sheet music. He gets his gall from his mother Dolly (Olympia Dukakis), helping the poor by arranging jobs and making sure the Mayor owes her favors. The minute little Frankie walks into his parents' bar, the denizens beg him to sing, "with feeling." "With feeling costs a nickel," enterprising Frankie tells them before launching into "My Wonderful One." He sasses both Mom and Dad (Joe Santos), but they are helpless against his charm. Frankie wants to a boxer. "Just what the world needs, another punch-drunk palooka," Dolly quips. She wants him to carry a sign at a rally for the Mayor the next day, but he refuses to participate unless he can sing the national anthem. "It's not a love song, Rudy Valley, it's the 'Star Spangled Banner,'" Dolly tells him when she sees him mugging to young girls in the crowd.
A few years pass and miniseries hunk Philip Casnoff joins us the older Sinatra. He doesn't look like Frank (he's must more handsome), but he has the mannerisms down pretty well. He informs his parents that he wants to be a singer, "to be someone," but his father tells him if he doesn't work, he can't stay at home, live there or eat there. So, off he goes to New York City and makes the rounds looking for an agent and work.
Frank brazenly goes backstage at a burlesque theater and asks if they need a singer. You know 'It Had To Be You?'" the manager asks. He does, and stands center stage singing it (Casnoff lip syncs to Sinatra doing it) while the few men present crowd long for any scrap of female flesh that can be produced. He sneaks home to his mother, who says, "get in here, you little son-of-a-bitch" just before a neighbor rushes in with the news that Marty has been taken to the hospital. Father and son kind of reconcile, at least if Frankie will "come home and get a real job."
"Hey, I'm Frank, you're Nancy," Frank says when he strides across the street to meet Nancy (Gina Gershon) and get an impromptu manicure since he sees her doing hers. He gives her a few bars of "Ain't She Sweet" on his ukulele and then meets her on the beach with her large family the next day. Frank accepts a job with Nancy's father as a plasterer. Her father is also salt-of-the-earth, so when one of the female family members says, "he's dreamy," Papa says, "he's a dreamer." Nonetheless, he is eager to teach Frank to appreciate opera and it affords Frank the chance to take singing lessons from Mr. Quinlin (Jeff Corey). His peppy version of "Stormy Weather," doesn't impress the teacher because "you don't understand the words." Frank is not deterred. He wants to learn anything he can be taught. The combination of starting from scratch with Mr. Quinlin and listening to opera with Nancy's father does the trick in a handy montage. Eventually, he has to quit the plastering job because he can't manage the schedule of work and singing lessons. "No work, no Nancy," her pop tells Frank.
When has that ever stopped two youngsters in heat? Witless lover dialogue pretty much sets it up: "I don't wanna lose you," says he. "I don't wanna lose you," says she. It's Nancy, with one line of dialogue, who convinces Frank to go for it again. So, he auditions with "Stormy Weather," this time for Major Bowes (Jay Robinson), who puts him in a group, not exactly what Frank had in mind, but he does make Frank the lead singer. Major Bowes anoints them "The Hoboken Four" and gives them "Shine" to sing. And with that, Frank gets to tour the country with the Major Bowes Amateur Hour, once again using flirtation as a hallmark of his performance style. The girls go for it in a big way, much to the annoyance of the other three group members. So, the scrappy lad ditches Major Bowes and returns to Hoboken and Nancy's waiting arms.
He finds out that Dolly has been arrested for being an "abortionist." She defends her actions because it's the Great Depression and she's helping people who already have too many mouths to feed. "Most people don't make $75 a month and if they did, they wouldn't quit," she yells at him, outraged that he would give up his $75 A WEEK job! Nancy chooses to believe Frank when he says he quit the job because he was "afraid he might lose" her, but this is while they are in bed necking to King Edward VIII's abdication speech. Nancy wants to elope, but Frank insists they have a real wedding, with her gown "covering the floor like the first falling snow." Oh, my stars, where the hell did he dig up that groaner?
When Frank gets a job in the middle of nowhere singing with just a piano between the band's sets, he's told by the bandleader that his name is "too I-talian." When he's introduced that night, Dolly loudly grumbles, "who the hell is Frankie Trent?" Frank has to wheel on the piano player (who is blind and told to "shut your eyes, you're scarin' the customers") while singing "Pennies From Heaven" for tips.
For a tiny bit of "Francis Albert Sinatra, No Saint Was He," the movie tosses in a groupie who refuses to take no for an answer and they have sex in the car. This takes up all of three seconds and is done through fogged-up windows. However, the girl ends up pregnant and Frank is arrested on a morals charge. His explanation to fiancee Nancy is that the girl is married and "there is a whole string of guys." But, Nancy is angry, especially since she has already given up her virginity to him! He swears fidelity to Nancy so many times that he says, "if I swear anymore, God will strike me dead." "Good, you deserve it," she replies, but of course she'll forgive him. And marry him, in a big white dress, just as promised.
Harry James (Matthew Posey) comes to hear Frank sing one night and offers him a job touring with his orchestra on the spot, if he changes his name to Frankie Satin. "I like Sinatra," Frank says and it sticks. He tours and even records. Just as Harry announces they have a gig in Chicago for the holidays, Frank finds Nancy puking in the toilet. He doesn't want pregnant Nancy going on the road with him, predictably. It's late 1939, the news is that "The Reds Invade Finland," but Frank wants to jump from the James band to that of Tommy Dorsey (Bob Gunton). Dorsey gives him a terrific offer (though 42% of it goes to Dorsey "for life"), too good an offer to refuse. "If Harry lets you out," Dorsey cautions. James does and with no rancor, just a hug for Frank. A quarter of the way through the movie and more than that of Frank's life and Frank has been an angel, making no enemies and only officially sleeping with one woman besides beloved Nancy.
Things are not immediately smooth with Dorsey and company. Buddy Rich (Tommy Simotes) rides him for being late (on the drums, of course). Dorsey wants him to sing the previous singer's song, and Frank won't. Cocky as all get out, he declines the use of a lyric sheet for "I'll Never Smile Again" because he knows the words, and of course sings it perfectly the first time out. Even Mama Dolly sways to the gentle version on the radio and Nancy gazes into space hearing it.
"We have a problem," a hotel manager says, "we don't serve Coloreds here," referring to Sy Oliver (John Wesley). This is the first time the famous Sinatra temper flares up in this movie. "Give him the key or I'm gonna wreck this barn. I said give him the key!" Frank brays, pulling the hotel manager by the tie. And this was before all that Chairman of the Board crap.
Confident as ever, Frank has a wow of a conversation with Dorsey late one night. "So, what's your signature song gonna be?" Tommy asks. "I don't want a song, I want a sound. You see, TD, if I can do with my voice what you can do with a trombone, I can knock the whole gang right off the charts." How the hell is Dorsey supposed to follow that? "Breath control" is all he can say. Frank's mixture of undying self-esteem and talent seems to push through any roughness. When Frank launches into "I'll Never Know," the scene is pretty, but the recording used is of very poor quality, and obviously Frank couldn't re-record it. Strange to include that scene, which doesn't further the movie at all.
Frank asks Dorsey for time off to be at the birth of his first child. "When an entertainer is at the birth of his children, it means he's not working. You are!" Dorsey thunders. Frank offers Dorsey the godfather role to his kid, but Dorsey can sling the crap just as well as Frank. He tells him the band is going to be in a movie and that "Billboard is going to name you Top Band Vocalist." That one hits Frank and he forgets about the kid. Instead, he asks Dorsey for not more money, not better billing (which Dorsey was willing to give), but "more strings." By the next tour stop, not only are there an acre of violinists supporting Frank, but even a harp!
The only person not bowing at the altar of Sinatra is Buddy Rich, but since he keeps referring to Frank as a "grease ball," he loses all credibility as a person. And that, my friends, is how you write a movie about people still alive and keep them happy (Rich had died in 1987, so no one needed to walk on eggshells for his sake). In fact, when the two get into a physical altercation that Frank starts over Rich's inability to keep to Frank's tempo, Dorsey takes Frank's side, but only quickly because Nancy is on the phone, complaining that he's never around to talk to her. Since poor Gina Gershon is directly to be as annoying as possible in this scene, Frank still seems like a hero, even though he's clearly not walking on the straight-and-narrow.
In Hollywood, filming a totally insignificant song in a totally insignificant role in a totally insignificant movie, Frank says "I can't sing to a camera," so the director puts a girl in a chair near the band so Frank can focus his attention on her. In the scene and in bed, where he becomes a tiger. But, wait, folks! He doesn't actually do anything but mack on the girl, all clothing on, when his mother calls with the news that he has a daughter. Again, that's how we keep Francis Albert Sinatra and family happy but still remain somewhat faithful to the past. "I'm a father!" Frank says to the girl. "I don't know what to say," she replies. "How about goodbye?" How very family man-esque of him, no?
The rest of the world is still revolving. Frank gets home to Hoboken to celebrate with Nancy and his family, Dorsey in tow. Dolly nags about Frank's billing and Marty has asthmatic attacks while rummaging through old photo albums. And the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor. Patriotism was good for the Big Band Era.
Frank's career is taking off just when Nancy needs him at home. "You have no right to stop me," he yells. "I don't want to stop you. I want you to be the greatest singer there is. I just don't want to lose you," she whines, to an assurance that he will never leave her. Frank quits Dorsey, though with a year's notice, especially since Dorsey owns over 40% of him. Oh, wait, the latter might not be true anymore, especially since Frank now has a fleet of lawyers, producers and big companies behind him. "You know, not everyone thinks you are as talented as you do. Personally? I hope you fall flat on your face," Dorsey says in frustration.
Initially, the owner of the Paramount Theatre doesn't think Frank can fill it. "You've got a small voice," he's told. "The girls will fill the Paramount," one of his minions says. Indeed they do. Lines of them fight to get in. Frank is on the bill with Benny Goodman (David Kimball), performing what is easily the most complex and important Big Bang contribution. "And now, Frank Sinatra," Goodman announces to screams of delight from the crowd and the legend of the bobbysoxers is born (though the rendition of "Where or When?" is another tinny version that could have been cleaned up for the soundtrack). Casnoff nails the Sinatra presence, the light-as-air performance style and especially the connection with the harpie fans. Even Nancy is impressed.
Everyone Frank knows is on the payroll. Nancy goes over the bills and signs autographs for him while Frank tends to the parts he enjoys. He's loving life in Hollywood, where MGM is putting him under contract. Nancy wants him home, since she's pregnant again, but life on the East Coast is pretty much done. He misses the birth of his second child, despite promises he would be there. "You are 0 for 2," Dolly tells him when she picks up phone, saying it "had a guilty ring." Pretending to be asleep, Nancy cries. He can't get to Nancy because he first has to meet President Roosevelt.
And then it hits. A cliche moment that always has to happen in any miniseries about a real person. Frank and Nancy are arguing about giving Dolly money over and over and Nancy turns to Frank to say (you can say it along with her), "I don't know who you are anymore." Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Luckily, the conversation doesn't go any further than that, but even just the one sentence is one cliche too many. He's having way more fun with his fans and his entourage. Looking at Philip croon "I Fall in Love Too Fast," he actually looks like Sinatra. Until an egg is thrown at him by an angry boy, "on the night my father comes to see me!" bellows Frank.
With fame comes the underside of fame: the boy with the egg, the morals charge popping up out of legal death, the press twisting his words, the fact that he's not in the war and the hellish schedule that has him drinking heavily. He yells at his entourage a lot, but also treats like them like family. Worries are suddenly chucked out when Marilyn Maxwell (Carol Barbee) arrives backstage to spend some personal time with Frank.
The family moves to Hollywood so Frank can take on his first real role, but he has demands. The studio is willing to throw the biggest names in songwriting his way, but he wants Jules Styne (then just about to start a Broadway career) and Sammy Cahn. "They don't start Monday morning, neither do I," he insists. The conversation ends abruptly when Frank sees Ava Gardner (Marcia Gay Harden) walk by. She's crying over her latest dust-up with Artie Shaw, but he makes her laugh.
Nancy learns how to drive a car, but a fancy car isn't to her liking. "There's no room for the groceries," she whines. Her mother says, "the way he eats, you could fit them in here" and opens the glove compartment to find a jewelry box containing a heart bracelet. Let's assume it's not for her. Frank's roving attention hits Nancy square in the face during a New Year's party they host (with Sammy Davis and Bogie, among others), when Nancy sees Marilyn wearing the bracelet from the car! As the countdown reaches it's zenith, Nancy orders Marilyn "out of my house."
The next morning, Nancy lays into Frank. "It's nothing," he assures her, regarding Marilyn. "It's not nothing to me," she says. He replies with another star biopic cliche that better writers could have found a way around: "It's just there's so much pressure. It doesn't let up for a second. Sometimes I feel like climbing the walls." That one appears in every male-with-a-wandering-penis movie about a star. The rest of the conversation follows familiar track, including the expected, "maybe we should go away together, just the two of us," but Frank pricks a hole in that one. How about nights together? The next film is to be filmed in NYC, so that won't work either.
As a reporter gets a soundbite out of Frank about Communism that will no doubt come back to haunt him, he gets in a car with pal Peter Lawford, he meets Gene Tierney, snuggled up with JFK. Loyal agent George Evans (Joe Grifasi) tries to get Frank to play nice with the press (instead of slugging them), to not get his mug on the front page with a dame who isn't his wife and to even stop drinking because it's ruining his voice. "Go away for a few days...no women!" So, Frank takes a few days off in Havana, where he's photographed with Lucky Luciano, among other notorious mobsters. Frank doesn't see the harm in knowing Luciano. "I drive the getaway car," he jokes, and then adds to George, "you said no women. You didn't say anything about mobsters." George begs him to stop his trip down "this self-destructive path."
We met Sammy Davis Jr. (David Raynr) again for a split second because Frank decides to knock out right-wing columnist Lee Mortimer, which lands him in jail. LB Mayer calls him and tells him to apologize. Never one to admit his mistakes, Frank gets rip-roaring drunk and dresses as a priest to meet his pals at Romanoff. This is the perfect place for a tirade. Bogie tells him to get some sleep so he can work. "Work. This isn't work. They dress me funny and I sing. If they gave me 'Hamlet,' they would make me sing," he rails. Frank is ruining his career and he wants his marriage to be over, though Nancy is pregnant again. But mainly, his problem is "I lost it. I lost the feeling."
Even the fans have disappeared. Columbia wants to let him go and he's not even upset. "I'm only 33...is it all over at 33?" "It's a big pendulum, you'll come back," he's assured. He does perk up when he sees Ava Gardner in the hotel lobby. She grabs his arm and takes him to see Billie Holliday (Leata Galloway) perform. That's the spark they need to start their intense affair, one that became Hollywood legend in no time. They are physical wild animals together. Ava is far more practical (and experienced), so when Frank wants to see her again, she purrs, "it was just a brief moment, Francis. Let's not make history out of it." No one has ever refuse Frank before! That makes him even more obsessed, phoning in Christmas with his family and not able to concentrate on his new film.
Though Ava was not married when she met Frank, he was, but somehow, the movie makes her the villain. She yells at him and then kisses him passionately. She toys with him horribly. "It's not enough for you to have a guy, you gotta mess with his head too?" Frank says, grabbing her. That sets Ava off, demanding that he never touch her like that again. "It's never gonna work between us," she says.
As for Nancy, she knows the gossip, and Frank decides it's time to move out. "Come home, Frank. You belong here," she assures him. "Then why don't I feel it?" With that, Nancy is forced to agree. As much as they try, Frank and Ava can't stay apart. When he's singing at a fancy club, Ava, appearing from the mist, walks slowly down the center aisle, drops her fur to reveal a gorgeous outfit. "Every chick in here wants to be you and every cat in here wants to be me," he tells her as they walk very slowly to their table in order to show off. Frank can't keep calm when a photographer snaps a picture of him with Ava, ripping out the film and pushing the guy.
The affair with Ava, volatile as it is, exacts a heavy toll on Frank (of course it does, since this is a rough episode in Frank's life that cannot be ignored, no matter how many children were involved in the making of this film). His faithful George has a heart attack and dies trying to get him out of one scrape or another. MGM drops his contract. "Ah, what the hell? They never gave me a decent role anyway," he says, trying to sound okay, but clearly devastated. He wants Ava by his side, but she has her own career to think about and can't afford to be with him as he heads to London for a singing gig.
However, as he's singing, sounding particularly broken-hearted, Ava actually does show up so Frank can see her in the wings. Naturally, a song is picked that has lyrics matching the exact moment the end of the first portion requires.
What of Nancy? She remains supportive, begging him to "take a rest" when he complains that he is dreading performing. "It doesn't mean anything to me anymore, nothing does," the complaining crooner says, actually speaking of Ava. "Why do you want to hold onto me if I don't want to be here?" he coldly asks her. She believes he will tire of Ava and come back to her.
Things hit rock bottom when Frank gets on stage and cannot sing, spitting blood into his handkerchief. Unfortunately, it's at the Copa in Hollywood, so everyone knows instantly what's going on. The news reporting it says, "that's the old Frank here's the new Frank, Frankie Lane..." and that radio gets switched off immediately. He's supposed to be on complete vocal rest, but when he sees a picture of Ava in the paper with another man, he gets the first plane to Spain where she's filming a movie. Her handsome co-star speaks no English, so Frank gets even nastier. "This is my woman, mi senorita, so adios!" he tells the poor guy. As always, being with Ava brings out the worst in both, but once they get the arguing done, then it's happiness and loving, at least until the next argument. "You're kinda cute when you can't speak," Ava says as Frank presents her with an expensive necklace.
On a rainy romantic day, sweetness in bed turns into a brawl because Ava says he's not "trying hard enough" to divorce Nancy and he can't have both women. "This is torture, Frank. It's wrecking my career. I can't do this anymore," she says. "Two minutes ago, we were happy. What happened?" "I was being a sap. I want you to go home and get a divorce," Ava demands and stalks out.
Back to the Paramount, the site of Frank's biggest success, he goes, but the joint is empty and after that, bookings are few and nothing exciting. Things are so bad that when he goes to light a cigarette at the stove and the pilot does not light, he can kill himself. So, he turns the gas all the way up. Luckily, he's caught in time (obviously). Did this ever really happen? It's tough to believe that someone like Frank Sinatra ever thought of suicide, but easier to accept the fact that it makes for a pungent dramatic twist. "It's torture when we're together and worse when we're not," Ava tells him as a way to cheer him up (?). With Ava in the audience at a New Jersey concert, he can sing perfectly.
It's at this concert that Frank meets Sam Giancana (Rod Steiger), and though Ava is worried that he's in the mafia, Frank says he owes his career to men like that. Even more unlikely in this room is columnist Earl Wilson, and it takes all of Ava's charm to get him to agree not to print a story about seeing her there.
Except Earl Wilson prints an article calling Frank and Ava Romeo and Juliet, which Nancy carps makes her "a villain for trying to keep my family together." For the 53rd time, Frank begs for a divorce, but this time, it works. When word gets out, a reporter asks Frank, "what are your wedding gifts to each other, boxing gloves?" Ava takes it all in stride, but when another reporter asks if it will be a "white wedding" Frank pushes him to the ground and breaks his camera. Ava, naturally, does not wear white. Set to "They Can't Take that Away From Me," Frank and Ava have a montage of great moments, even if one of them is a jealous spat ending in a kiss.
Ava is off to Africa to shoot "Mogambo" with Clark Gable and Frank doesn't trust her, so he goes along. He's obsessed with "From Here to Eternity" and knows the role of Maggio could revitalize his career. The heat is unbearable, but Ava thinks she might be pregnant, which is not good news for her because this role is too important for her. Frank gets good news, a telegram in Africa (uh huh) saying Columbia Pictures has agreed to test him for "From Here to Eternity" and though Ava isn't at all thrilled, he asks her for money to get back to the US.
The screen test is powerful, with Frank giving a tour-de-force, but bad news comes when Frank is told that Ava collapsed in Africa and was rushed to a hospital in London. When he gets there, she's actually in a hotel room dressed for dinner. "I was pregnant and now I'm not. I don't want to talk about it," she tells him. The loss of the baby is left a little vague, but if you bet on abortion, I think you have the safer bed. He thinks having a baby would be good for the marriage. "Did having a baby bring you and Nancy closer together?" she asks dryly? Ouch. Ava is off to a New Year's Eve party, and Frank roars, "walk out of that door and you walk out of my life!" However, the incessant pattern of good versus bad comes back AGAIN and Frank gets a call that he's won the part of Maggio. Unable to accept his success, Ava leaves while he's still on the phone.
As we all know, Frank wins a Best Supporting Actor Oscar (at the expense of a horse, if "The Godfather" is accurate) and his career is back, bigger than ever. He does movies and records, in that ring-a-ding-ding period of his life where he could do no wrong. Yet another montage takes care of the passage of time.
Frank misses another family event, but this time he has a good reason, Sammy has been in a car accident. We've seen Sammy twice, and only for half a second each time, but now he has a full dramatic scene, where he wonders how he'll dance with only one eye. "If I can't dance, I don't want to live," Sammy says as Frank trade vulgarities like teenagers. Frank takes him into the steam room in Vegas where the entire Rat Pack is gathered wearing eye patches like Sammy. Even JFK is there. Dino (Danny Gans) joins them and the three do pretty much the Rat Pack schtick, racism and all. When Frank introduces girlfriend Juliet Prowse from the stage, Mama Dolly quips, "what's he got at his front door, a turnstile?"
Well, speaking of JFK, he's running for President and Papa Joe comes a-callin' on Frank to enlist his friend Sam Giancana's help in securing the election. "What's in it for you? They gonna make you Ambassador to Italy or somethin'?" Sam wonders, but agrees to help. Frank loves being pals with the Kennedys, but practical Bobby Kennedy wants Sammy Davis removed from campaigning because he's black and about to marry white Mai Britt. Bobby has some god-awful reasoning to convince Frank to make Sammy back down, but he doesn't have to worry, because Sammy knows what's going on and even postpones his wedding.
Frank goes to visit "Chicky Baby" JFK in his new digs at the White House. Jack is excited for an upcoming visit to Los Angeles where he will stay with Frank, busy making "improvements" so the whole staff can fit. "I'll see you in the spring," Jack says to Frank on his way out. It's Peter Lawford who is sent to break the news to Frank that the Presidential visit is not happening. "You got no loyalty, you got no guts," Frank yells at Peter for taking sides with the Kennedys against him.
And the mob isn't any happier. With Bobby Kennedy cracking down on the mafia, Sam Giancana and his friends are in trouble and Frank is their link, though Frank is persona non grata at The White House pretty quickly. Sam wants payment on the favor of delivering West Virginia in the election, but Frank says he's the one who asked for the favor, not the Kennedys. It's getting very complicated. Frank has to shed friends just to look proper, but he packs them off with goodies like his music publishing company.
During his European tour, Frank gets to spend time with Ava in Spain, where she now lives. Why Spain? "They got people, real people," she says. He asks her to marry him again. "What could you possibly miss about me?" she asks and bolts. From here, it's the "One For My Baby" mini-montage where Frank watches JFK's funeral procession and cries.
On the set in 1965, Frank meets Mia Farrow (Nina Siemaszko). Frank offers an autograph and she jokes, "no, who are you?" Cue "You Make Me Feel So Young" as Frank and Mia begin their oddball romance. Poor young Mia isn't thrilled with Frank's house, as it's filled with pictures of Ava, and Frank never really cottons to Mia's vibe, which is anything but Old Hollywood. She meditates and reads (take that Ava) and wears love beads. They marry with Frank looking like he's getting hitched to Rosemary's baby itself. Oh, and she has bad taste in music. "It's not music, it's crap," Frank bellows as he grumbles about the state of music. Mia does have one good comeback when he complains about bad lyrics, going through the do-be-do-be-dos of "Strangers in the Night." They have the again inevitable conversation about her advancing career, she wants a baby ("my kids grew up thinking the telephone was their father") and he doesn't, and finally Mia puts her finger on it. "Hey, I'm not Ava!"
In other words, the marriage is doomed from the start. Rather than rehashing conversations Frank has had with either Nancy or Ava (mostly Ava), we breeze through the whole kooky romance at top speed. None of those glamorous sable-and-satin-drenched arguments like Frank and Ava, just stilted phone conversations and bing-bang-boom, it's over. One supposes that the Sinatra children were not at all fond of Stepmother Mia, because the rush job is very obvious.
By the time Frank divorces Mia, he's graying and getting heavy. But, the nurses at the hospital where Marty is dying still think he's pretty foxy. Frank confides in his father that "I'm thinking of leaving the business...I'm tired, tired of being in the spotlight. The music business changes so fast, I can't keep up with the next guy anymore. Maybe I should stop trying," he tells the man who never expected him to make it. He retires, just as he promised his father before Marty expired.
Less than two years later, in 1974, retirement is over. "That's Life." We're now into the tux and toupee years. But, he sells out Madison Square Garden and they still throw roses to the stage. No underwear, for granny panties aren't particularly aerodynamic. At the end of the song, Frank blows a kiss to the audience and the move ends.
Frank Sinatra never seemed so squeaky clean, but you know what? That's not such a bad thing. Despite the temper and such, he was one of the greatest entertainers of the 20th Century and he did lead a colorful life. It may not have been the Technicolor one on display here, but it was a great ride.
Comments? Questions? Laughs? Feel free to email me at hpmaraka@gmail.com so we can chat.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Danielle Steel's Zoya (1995)
Twenty-two films have been made from the novels of Danielle Steel. TWENTY-TWO! More than Judith Krantz, more than Jackie Collins, maybe even more than Stephen King. Just off the top of my mind, I think the book-to-movie transfer rate is higher than anyone but God, though to be fair, He's been filmed since the first days of cinema and Danielle Steel has only been writing since the 1970s. That makes her record pretty damn astonishing.
Of course, Steel's career has been a triumph of trash, selling hundreds of millions of books on the well-worn formulas of the romance novel, often set against backgrounds of historical pageantry. I admit, I've read a few Danielle Steel books. They don't take that long, don't challenge the brain and are great for airplanes and the like.
The miniseries of Danielle Steel are the Velveeta of the genre: phony, processed, gooey, but somehow, oh-so-tasty! Let's jump right into a vat now. I promise, it's not nearly as annoying as Judith Krantz, and a whole lot funnier!
"Zoya" is everything a romance miniseries should be, quite honestly. Yes, it's a bit low-rent, a bit over-zealous and not always ideally cast, but it was made in 1995. This is a last gasp miniseries, when the budgets were smaller and the interest from viewers far less intense. I shudder to think of what "Zoya" would have been like 10 years earlier!
Our story destined to be told in flashback starts in 1931 with a spectacular opening, a gigantic fire as an apartment building goes up in flames. Melissa Gilbert rushes inside the burning building to find her children (the entire fire department can't stop her, not that more than one or two try). She is able to save her son, but her daughter and "little dog" are still in the building when she begins to reminisce about all the tragedy she's had in life. Of course she does. Waiting by a burning building is exactly the time and place to rehash the past.
Melissa is a Russian Countess (Zoya), a niece of the last Tsar. "I was spoiled and protected and totally unprepared for the world outside, the real world," she tells us, far more than some of the descendants of Russian nobility today. Right off the bat, ballerina Melissa and one of the Grand Duchesses are in trouble with the Tsarina (Jennifer Hilary, sporting an accent that I can't place--she was, after all, a German Princess raised partially in England and Tsarina of the Russian people, but somehow it comes out a little Swedish), who scolds her for being late and then praises her by giving her a puppy. Oh, and FYI, it's 1917, and you know what that means.
Melissa is awfully progressive for her era and her rank. When her brother, dashing soldier Sam West, comments that he will look for a husband for her, she replies that she will find her own, "but not before I try the stage." Sam obviously doesn't like that idea, but since his mistress is on the stage, he can't say much about it, except that noble women do not do such things. "There are no Countesses like myself and I shall marry for love or not at all," Melissa chirps. We've found our strong heroine. You can check that box off in the list of miniseries musts.
Neither of Melissa's parents likes the puppy and Melissa argues to keep it until her frustrated grandmother, Diana Rigg (check off the box for slumming legend too), settles it all by volunteering to keep the puppy herself. Suddenly, though, the puppy isn't such a big deal when brother Sam is brought into the house wounded and promptly dies. The family needs to scoot from St. Petersburg immediately. Diana gives Melissa the family's precious Faberge egg to watch over just as revolutionary soldiers march into the mansion. Family members are killed mercilessly one-by-one, but Diana and Melissa manage to escape. They race in a carriage through the attacks and counter-attacks rife in the St. Petersburg streets while the score pounds behind them relentlessly.
Wondering about the dog? I know you are. Yes, the puppy is safe with Melissa and Diana.
Diana finds out from a two-second conversation that the Tsar has abdicated and is supposedly off to exile in England, but she decides they will go to Paris. Noting Melissa has a fever (the Grand Duchesses all had the measles), Diana launches into a speech about remembering the past that is only interrupted by a soldier stopping their little carriage. The cuteness of the puppy gets them out of that scrape.
With their driver in tow, they reach Paris awfully quickly and apparently without incident, although Melissa has full-fledged measles now. At the train station, they meet Prince David Warner (check off the box for miniseries fixture), who works in Paris as a cab driver since "royal titles don't mean much here." Diana goes to pawn her jewels, finding them worth far less than expected because the French jewel market has been flooded with Russian gems.
It's up to Melissa to help bring in cash, so she decides to go look for work in the ballet, the Ballet Russes no less. She has no resume, but she has pluck. "I'm a dancer, a good dancer. It's what I've always wanted to do," she tells the haughty ballerina she meets in the theater. Diaghilev (Gregory Hlady) happens to be there and tells her to audition because most of his company has the measles. Since she has just overcome them (in about 43 seconds), that's a bonus already. She gets the job (thanks, in part, to a ballerina stand-in that is very obvious from afar, far less, um, robust, than Melissa), and then has to break the news to Granny, who refuses to let her "prostitute herself." She has an alternate suggestion: marry David Warner, who does have a crush on her. Nothing will stop Melissa from pursuing this dream. Diana and David both attend Melissa's opening and it's a triumph.
World War I is mentioned for the first time when Melissa asks David if Paris will fall to the Germans as a way to head off the conversation she knows he wants to have. "I will always be here for you," he tells her when she succeeds at keeping him at bay.
A small ticker tape parade (this goes back to the budget issue--there are maybe 50 extras and no doubt they all had to rip the bunting themselves before tossing it in the air) welcomes the American soldiers to Paris. Everyone is so excited because they will save France.
The Ballet Russes company is invited to General Pershing's residence. Now she will finally get to meet soldier Bruce Boxleitner, to whom she threw a carnation in the parade and who has seen her dance. His French is terrible, but her English is sterling, so phew, they have a language in common! Their brief waltz and uncomfortable small talk are interrupted when Bruce is needed by the General and the company has to get back to Paris. Diana is furious the next morning because Melissa "danced in the arms of a man to whom you have not been properly introduced."
Diana is clinging to the old way of life, which is as dead as her relatives. In a walk in the park with David, she falters and tells him, "I am not well," as if we needed verification. We all know that a stumble or a cough means imminent death on TV! "But, before I go, I must be sure that Zoya is not left alone among strangers," she tells David anointing him Melissa's husband-to-be. Bad timing, because Bruce has stalked Melissa to give her flowers and invite her to dinner, which she tells him Granny won't like. "It's not late dinners that my grandmother does not approve of, it's handsome American soldiers," she coyly says. "I bet I can win her over," Bruce says with cocky American style, but Melissa knows better than to even try that, so she agrees to dinner and what seems like a two-day walk around Paris so we can all see the sights (literally, it's day when they meet, night when they dine and walk and day again when they part). Bruce and Melissa have their giant romantic first kiss (with the orchestra going nuts) as Diana watches from the window, all but dying of horror.
"I cannot allow you to throw away your life on a man who is not one of us," Diana tells Melissa, hoping that when they return to Russia...uh oh, cue the knock on the door and the news that the Tsar and his family have been killed...scratch that return to Russia, I guess. What's Plan B, Granny? There isn't one, because Diana is very sick. The driver dies of whatever she has, and Diana doubles her efforts to marry Melissa to David. "Grandmama, the world has changed," Melissa says. "The sun and moon are still above us," Diana notes, though I'm not sure what it means. Even better, Diana says, "you know so little of the world. You cannot trust a soldier." Wait a minute. Diana has been living the life of a Russian aristocrat all of her life, so how does she know that? Melissa is the one who has been out in Paris among regular people, so if anyone should be dispensing advice...
Diana decrees Melissa must marry David, so Melissa runs through Paris, in a convenient rainstorm that will make this moment so much cheesier, to the American garrison to find Bruce. "I'm leaving, being sent to the front...I don't want you to wait for me," Bruce says, but Melissa begs entreats him to proclaim his love for her, which he won't do. "I don't expect to come back. Please don't wait for me!" he says and turns away. The course of true love is never easy in these types of stories. With hours yet to go, did you think it would be as simple as meet-fall in love-defy Granny-marry? Come on, you know better than that!
Melissa sums it up for us: no letters from Bruce, a war continuing, driver dead, Granny sick, days and nights miserable, and he's henpecked about marrying David. Basically, it can't get much worse for our heroine. "I can't remember being so unhappy in all of my life," she narrates.
One of those items on the list of tragedies remedies itself when Paris is liberated and awash in celebration. Melissa is innocently walking through the crowds when Bruce grabs her. He says he was working for intelligence (and he didn't stop to help this script?) and therefore couldn't contact her and was then sent to the front where communication was cut. Five minutes after telling her he couldn't ever see her again, he says he loves her and they get that very big kiss. Trying to bribe Diana, he brings gobs of food and presents to Melissa's little apartment, though of course Diana disapproves. Bruce even asks her permission to take Melissa to lunch and as she's about to say no, David says let them go. "You've just made a very serious mistake," she tells David, who replies "maybe so."
How's this for the whims of love? Bruce tells Melissa he was married before, though he is now a widower. "And yes, I loved her," he says, seeing the wheels turn in her head, "and now I love you." Melissa, hun, keep that in the back of your mind. Should you ever die, he'll still love you, but he'll move on too.
Bruce has to stop and change his clothes, and like all good mischievous Russian noblewomen, Melissa has to go snooping around the gigantic mansion that houses the soldiers. She catches Bruce just putting on his shirt. He's not upset. "Now you'll know where to picture me when I'm...uh...not with you," he says, in way that is supposed to sound romantic. This leads to a very uncomfortable conversation (for them and us) where Bruce says he needs to fight the sexual urges he has for her, though she tries to encourage them, and furthermore, he's hungry. "Take me," she says, cuing the removal of clothes and the violins. For a sex scene, it's very...network. No one shows any skin or even reaches second base, for that matter.
Knowing that Bruce is coming to pick Melissa up, Diana sends her to buy tea so she can talk to Bruce alone. She informs him that she is a countess (which Melissa never bothered to tell him), and asks if he's prepared to go back to Russia with her for her "many duties" as a countess. Diana still doesn't get that the old Russia is gone and Bruce doesn't seem to notice either, saying "we haven't talked about all of the details." Diana demands that Bruce break it off. He pussyfoots around it, using their age difference, their difference in backgrounds and all but hair color to halt wedding plans. We do feel for Bruce because Melissa blames him, which is what Diana had intended (and Bruce knew that, but went ahead with it anyway, which makes him one damn stupid man).
Melissa, told by Diaghilev that her "spirit has flown," can no longer dance and takes a job making hats. Diana is dying and commands Melissa to "bring me the egg," entrusting it to her. It's supposed to be a remembrance of everything, but that won't buy food! Diana admits that she sent Bruce away, but Melissa says, "you saved my life," at least remembering her priorities. And with that, Diana succumbs to that terrible unnamed illness that has been dogging her for the last few scenes. Other than the dog, David is all she has, by default. He knows she won't marry him, but he wants to cheer her up.
By this point in time, peace talks are going on at Versailles and General Pershing is a part of them, which means Bruce is back. They are reunited and moments later have been married. With the dog in tow, they depart for America, where Melissa declares, "I don't want anyone to know I'm a countess, just an American wife." Bruce sends her off to Axelle (Denise Alexander) to buy a whole new wardrobe, but the American gossips are already upset that she's so young, that she was a bawdy dancer, etc. Mid-pout, Melissa tells Bruce she's preggers, and a scene change later, they have a little boy. Another scene change later they also have a little girl. And the dog, of course. Naturally, at the pinnacle of happiness, Melissa chooses to remember what her grouchy grandmother always used to say, "tragedy teaches us many lessons."
Their problems don't seem so bad. The little girl is a brat and the dog is going deaf, but that's nothing extraordinary. Something is bothering Bruce, but he won't say what. When he mentions that he often forgets to appreciate his wife, we know for sure he certainly won't live to a ripe old age, but already? It can't be!
It is. Second billing, and Bruce has barely been on screen for 30 minutes or so. The lawyer has more bad news: she's broke, since Bruce tossed all their coin in the plunging stock market. The cliches keep a-comin' as they all bid farewell to Bruce at a rainy funeral. "For the first time, there was no one on whom I could depend," Melissa narrates to end the first portion of the miniseries.
Destitute in 1930, Melissa, the kids, that very old dog and a few sticks of furniture are leaving the old house. "We have to say hello to whatever is next," Melissa reports with chipper enthusiasm to her sulky children. Their new landlady in a tenement is Peggy Cass, sounding like the same strangled bird she did back in her "Auntie Mame" days 40 years earlier. It should be noted their new digs look a lot like the dive where Melissa lives with Grandmother Diana Rigg. And she still has the egg. Can't sell the egg.
For work, she tries to fall back on her dancing, but this isn't St. Petersburg and it isn't Paris. It's New York City and she goes to stand in line at an open call for Ziegfeld (although at a theater bearing his name, which is historically inaccurate--the Follies were held at the New Amsterdam). She's not tall enough, so she's sent to other theaters where they hire smaller actresses. This dive turns out to be a burlesque house, where somehow Melissa auditions with her ballet moves and gets the job (also historically inaccurate, because burlesque loved tall girls too). She's hired on the spot to start that night and has to leave her kids alone, with the dog, of course.
"Luckily the patrons, as they call them, were so drunk, they didn't notice I was crying," Melissa says of her first night, where we see her doing a Salome-type dance that isn't at all sexy. Pert as ever, she tells herself the job is perfect because the hours are convenient to take her kids to school. Spoken like a true ex-royal who has lost everything in the world.
And now we return to the fire that started the movie. She's been sent home early from the theater because business is so slow in the summer. Her son and daughter survive (at the beginning, we knew only about the daughter), but it's time to say goodbye to the dog. He's been around since the very first scene. "Slava saved our lives, Mama," her son says with little emotion. Melissa ignores that to narrate that "every family I had ever loved had been torn from me. I promised that day I would never let that happen again!" Yes, Scarlett, we expected you to say that at some point. The strong female in a miniseries always has to declare that when she hits bottom, and Zoya girl, you've hit bottom!
Everything that's happened so far, and I can't believe I'm saying this, is pretty normal and expected. Escaping the Russian Revolution has formed the basis of lots of stories. Marrying a handsome soldier against the family wishes, having him die early, poverty, well, it's the lifeblood of this genre. But, the rebuilding is where it gets kooky, because now the authors get to make the rest up, and unfortunately "the rest" always involves a younger generation that is nowhere near as exciting as the previous one ("Kane & Abel" a few weeks ago is ideal proof of that, but certainly "Mistral's Daughter" is the Holy Grail of somnambulist generational boredom).
Melissa goes to apply for a job at Axelle's (remember, that's Denise Alexander, more famous as Lesley Webber on "General Hospital"), where she once was able to shop with unlimited credit. Axelle tries to brush her off, but then Melissa invents personal shopping right there on the spot. Axelle thinks it's a good idea because of the clientele she has, but only if Melissa put her Countess title in front of her name. "It would be a real feather in their caps to be waited on by a countess," Axelle says, though Melissa has sworn over and over she never wanted to use the title again. "Without your title, you're just a salesgirl," Axelle snaps and Melissa doesn't have a choice.
It becomes 1938 and Melissa has worked her way up to second-in-command at Axelle, her kids now older, but still spoiled (Cameron Bancroft and Jennifer Garner--yes, that Jennifer Garner). Jennifer is actually downright obnoxious. Nothing Melissa does is good enough for her, and Melissa has no idea why. She buys a gorgeous brownstone for the family, but Jennifer finds every reason to complain.
For the first time in 20 years or so, Melissa returns to Paris, on a buying trip with Axelle. It's here that Melissa meets Philip Casnoff, also there to see the fashions. Gorgeous Philip is much more of a hunk than Bruce ever was, so there must be something wrong with him, no? Axelle can see there is a connection immediately, especially since he's of Russian ancestry, and allows them time alone.
Back in the US, Cameron has to rescue his sister from a crappy bar where she's had too much to drink and makes a fool of herself. This of course leads to an argument about Mama. "Is she away? I hadn't noticed," Jennifer growls to her brother, who says Mama loves her. "Funny, I had noticed that either," she dryly reports, pouring herself a drink.
Philip tries to take Melissa to dinner on her last night in Paris, and she tries to slither out of it, but Philip is clearly in love. He even gazes at her longingly as she talks about her children for the umpteenth time, which has to be as boring for him as it is for the viewer. During an outdoor dance at one of Paris' most romantic spots, the two dance and Philip kisses her. "Don't do that again," Melissa says. "I won't," replies Philip, who goes for a deeper kiss. Yes! That's the juice! That's the marshmallow confection romance miniseries are built on! The dialogue makes not a lick of sense, but the two lovers unite and that's what matters.
With Philip in tow, Melissa returns to NYC and meets Cameron, who is very pleasant to him. Jennifer, however, has been "kicked out of public school," so their reunion is less happy. Jennifer spits out a tirade that literally has her foaming at the mouth and I admit to sharing the puzzled look on Melissa's face to hear it. What the hell is this girl so upset about?
Philip scoots her off on a vacation to New England, where he's bought out the entire inn so they can be alone. Ah, the rich, taking vacations from their vacations. This leads to a bedroom scene with dim lighting, where Philip tells Melissa, "I don't want to just love you. I want to love you and be loved by you forever." Awwwww. "I'm afraid there is no such thing as forever," Melissa replies, but Philip hits the ground and proposes. He's willing to put up with her kids, he says, anything to be with her, so she says yes. The violins are back, though there is no actual sex scene shown.
As expected, Cameron is thrilled, but Jennifer is a bitch about it. "If you two want to walk down the straight and narrow, that's fine and dandy with me, but I don't need a father. I've already had one and he's dead," she rages, bolting out dramatically. Cameron follows after her, and finally Jennifer reveals a little of what has been bothering her: absentee parenting. She's been angry at having no parent around.
Let's parse this for a moment, shall we? She had two parents, like we all do. One died when she was but a babe. That's terribly sad, but it can't be changed. Since her remaining parent was not wealthy, someone has to support the family, which meant Mom went off to work. That may not all make sense to a child, but to a young woman, it should be fairy obvious. To Melissa's credit, she's given her kids a great life, spoiling them to the point that Jennifer's anger makes no sense, other than, I assume, it's leading to some bad behavior that will keep the plot churning. Parsing over.
Philip and Melissa are married in a lovely outdoor ceremony where Jennifer even cracks a smile congratulating her mother. When Christmas comes, Philip makes sure to charm the kids, buying Cameron a car and Jennifer a fur coat. That's nothing compared to the present for Melissa: her own store. It's the size of a hotel! It will be open in about six months, in time for the holidays. "In time for the baby," she notes. He's stunned, and so am I. She's how old? Predictably, Jennifer is pissed. "Once again, my mother will have a damn good reason not to pay attention to me," is her reaction. So much for happy tidings.
Since Melissa can't think of a name for the store, Axelle and Philip come up with "Countess Zoya." It took two people to come up with that name? Two supposedly smarty people? As the sign is unveiled, Melissa goes into labor and has a boy. The baby has good timing; he's born right as Hitler invades Poland. That would be September 1 and the store also opens that month, with Melissa in a non-pregnant form immediately. Back to work so soon? Jennifer's anger is suddenly a bit understandable. Two years pass in a snap so that the US is now in the war.
You don't need me to tell you that Cameron, a senior in college, enlists. "Whether I come back with one leg or two, or in a pine box, I'll still be your brother," he tells Jennifer, who loves only him in the entire world. For Melissa, it's doubly bad, because Philip goes into the service too. He swears they will be back. "Have I ever broken a promise?" Philip asks her. The odds of two men going off to war in a miniseries and both coming back are pretty damn slim.
Jennifer spends the war in the arms of anyone who will have her, while Melissa raises money and does everything her increasingly perky character should do. She even tries to mend fences with Jennifer, but the latter won't allow it. There is a moment where Jennifer seems like she's about to relent a little, but the war department arrives with a letter. Philip. When Jennifer even attempts to express sympathy, Melissa walks away. Good for her! Jennifer can't even be kind during the funeral.
What seems to finally crack Jennifer a bit is when she's offered a job in Melissa's store. She takes to it well, but she's not employee of the month. If she goes out, she comes in late. Good guy Cameron has a fiancee no one knew about (Susan Haskell) because she's from a fancy New England family. See, we've spent so much time on nasty Jennifer that no one noticed Cameron may have a plot of his own!
Melissa isn't wild about Susan, who wonders aloud at dinner why so much money and expense are spent on tanks and not "the women back at home." Okay, she's not so smart. But worse is Julian Stone, Jennifer's boyfriend, who is so obnoxious that Melissa wastes no time in offering to pay him off to get him to go away. Oh, that's going to sit well with Jennifer! Sadly, folks, we're deprived of a big confrontation scene by glamorous tycoon Melissa (yeah, I know, none of those words fit together) and her daughter because just as Melissa is exposing Julian, Jennifer flounces in to announce they were married the day before and she's pregnant.
"Stop," you say. In all of these marriages and deaths and new children, you want to know where the Faberge egg is. I'll tell you. Melissa gives it to Cameron when he buys his wife a new house. Just putting it out there, because it's the kind of detail, we should not forget.
Jennifer has a baby, but Melissa only finds out because she happens to be in Cameron's office when he gets the news. "The next few years floated by," Melissa narrates as her young son goes off to boarding school. All is well with Cameron, but Melissa has no contact with Jennifer. "For the first time in my life, I was completely and utterly alone," she says. Cue the knock at the door for Jennifer and her daughter to come home (Melissa has certainly earned some private time, but selfish Jennifer has to usurp it). Jennifer has left Julian, who was not only a con artist, but a wife beater. There's a bit of temper at the onset, but Jennifer says, "I know it's too late, but I really am sorry." "It's never too late, not as long as we're alive," Melissa comforts her, having a hug and a cry and suddenly a wonderful relationship.
Not a moment too soon. Jennifer goes to pack up her home and is in a car accident, left brain dead. "I had finally found my daughter and was now about to lose her," Melissa narrates. The Steel giveth and the Steel taketh away. Melissa's character has had more hard knocks in her lifetime than a gallery of real-life women, but Danielle Steel keeps piling on the bad stuff.
"They're waiting for you," Melissa tells Jennifer's body before they unplug the machine, listing all the people back to the Tsar whom she's lost. Melissa has a hard time crying because the prosthetic aging pieces on her face are glued on way too tight. "Say hello to everyone," she cries. I half expected the ghosts of everyone to show up in the room, but it's only Cameron, which his equally bad glued-on mustache and Melissa's other son.
Things are not well in Cameron's household either. Not only does Susan not want to take Jennifer's baby, but she couldn't be bothered to be at the hospital when they let go of Jennifer. They are headed for Splitsville. On top of that (of course), Julian returns, demanding to have his daughter, but Melissa and her sons refuse. As Julian forces the issue, Melissa reminds him that all of the money is in trust until the kid is 21. She makes him an offer: he can certainly have his daughter, but there is no money to go with her (and that's 15 years away), or he can take a cash settlement and be gone forever. He takes the money.
My guess is that perennially young Melissa Gilbert refused to be properly aged for this movie, because only that would explain how she spends the rest of the movie limping around on a cane, but still sporting a mass of luxurious hair (tinted, of course) and a face and body that haven't changed that much. By now, her granddaughter is a ballerina, doing what her grandmother always dreamed of before revolution, marriage, death, financial ruin, two wars, a few kids, a dog and Peggy Cass got in the way.
The "Countess Zoya" empire is sold, leaving Melissa even wealthier than before, but "unemployed," as she puts it. Ah, but her loving family have a present for her, a trip to Russia with her granddaughter (Tiffany Amber Knight). On her way out of the store for the last time, we have one of those beautiful Velveeta moments I mentioned at the onset: Melissa, surrounded by her family and stunning lighting, stops everything in the store dead in its tracks to make a goodbye speech. Every extra over the age of 83 is used, because apparently Melissa was so loyal to her employees that no one ever left, so we see countless old ladies smiling as their commander says her farewells and then descends the spiral staircase for the last time. Only on TV, folks.
That leaves us just with the return visit to Leningrad (it's still Communist Russia, by this point). Now the cheese is so thick, one can't even pick up one's feet to run from it. Melissa and her granddaughter walk around all of Melissa's old haunts, until coming to her home, which is now a museum. Coming out is a gaggle of students, one who has just found a puppy that looks an awful lot like...yeah, I know, it's too dumb to even finish that sentence. Ignore the puppy, that's just idiotic. The Communist government turned the home of a Tsar's niece into a museum and allows school trips there? Why does that not sound right? Anyway, Melissa hears one of the kids wonder if the little girl who saw her family massacred was sad and the teacher says, "time has a mysterious kindness. It always gives back to us what we have lost through wisdom and memories." Does she believe it? You bet! They attend the Kirov, perhaps the only possible true detail of a return trip to Leningrad at this point in history. While watching the ballet, Melissa reaches into her purse and pulls out...the egg! Yes, to give it to her granddaughter.
Wait, she was allowed to schlep a Faberge egg into Communist Russia and walk around with it? THAT'S the end?
I have to admit, I find "Zoya" incredibly fun. It's a typical romance story of a woman overcoming every possible obstacle a human can encounter. It's the basis for hundreds of empowering books every year. The story itself is certainly nothing brilliant. What makes "Zoya" more watchable than many of its miniseries sisters is that it knows the value of efficiency. The scenes are quick and to-the-point, the pace breezy, not even slowing down to get too maudlin. For instance, Jennifer's death scene is handled so fast, as if they had the hospital set only for 10 minutes and had to get everything done. But, that's a hell of a lot better than turning it into an hour-long sobfest.
The other thing that makes "Zoya" watchable? There is no attempt by the people who cast it to use anyone capable of merely adequate acting. I don't mean that to sound as nasty as it reads. But, when you hire someone like Melissa Gilbert, you do not expect great fantastic acting. You expect capable acting. Therefore, there is no attempt by the script to overdo any emotional scenes. Everything is kept in careful check. Again, everything is in place to simply get the job done and tell the story. It doesn't need the frills that would weigh it down. For that, it deserves a lot of credit.
Of course, Steel's career has been a triumph of trash, selling hundreds of millions of books on the well-worn formulas of the romance novel, often set against backgrounds of historical pageantry. I admit, I've read a few Danielle Steel books. They don't take that long, don't challenge the brain and are great for airplanes and the like.
The miniseries of Danielle Steel are the Velveeta of the genre: phony, processed, gooey, but somehow, oh-so-tasty! Let's jump right into a vat now. I promise, it's not nearly as annoying as Judith Krantz, and a whole lot funnier!
"Zoya" is everything a romance miniseries should be, quite honestly. Yes, it's a bit low-rent, a bit over-zealous and not always ideally cast, but it was made in 1995. This is a last gasp miniseries, when the budgets were smaller and the interest from viewers far less intense. I shudder to think of what "Zoya" would have been like 10 years earlier!
Our story destined to be told in flashback starts in 1931 with a spectacular opening, a gigantic fire as an apartment building goes up in flames. Melissa Gilbert rushes inside the burning building to find her children (the entire fire department can't stop her, not that more than one or two try). She is able to save her son, but her daughter and "little dog" are still in the building when she begins to reminisce about all the tragedy she's had in life. Of course she does. Waiting by a burning building is exactly the time and place to rehash the past.
Melissa is a Russian Countess (Zoya), a niece of the last Tsar. "I was spoiled and protected and totally unprepared for the world outside, the real world," she tells us, far more than some of the descendants of Russian nobility today. Right off the bat, ballerina Melissa and one of the Grand Duchesses are in trouble with the Tsarina (Jennifer Hilary, sporting an accent that I can't place--she was, after all, a German Princess raised partially in England and Tsarina of the Russian people, but somehow it comes out a little Swedish), who scolds her for being late and then praises her by giving her a puppy. Oh, and FYI, it's 1917, and you know what that means.
Melissa is awfully progressive for her era and her rank. When her brother, dashing soldier Sam West, comments that he will look for a husband for her, she replies that she will find her own, "but not before I try the stage." Sam obviously doesn't like that idea, but since his mistress is on the stage, he can't say much about it, except that noble women do not do such things. "There are no Countesses like myself and I shall marry for love or not at all," Melissa chirps. We've found our strong heroine. You can check that box off in the list of miniseries musts.
Neither of Melissa's parents likes the puppy and Melissa argues to keep it until her frustrated grandmother, Diana Rigg (check off the box for slumming legend too), settles it all by volunteering to keep the puppy herself. Suddenly, though, the puppy isn't such a big deal when brother Sam is brought into the house wounded and promptly dies. The family needs to scoot from St. Petersburg immediately. Diana gives Melissa the family's precious Faberge egg to watch over just as revolutionary soldiers march into the mansion. Family members are killed mercilessly one-by-one, but Diana and Melissa manage to escape. They race in a carriage through the attacks and counter-attacks rife in the St. Petersburg streets while the score pounds behind them relentlessly.
Wondering about the dog? I know you are. Yes, the puppy is safe with Melissa and Diana.
Diana finds out from a two-second conversation that the Tsar has abdicated and is supposedly off to exile in England, but she decides they will go to Paris. Noting Melissa has a fever (the Grand Duchesses all had the measles), Diana launches into a speech about remembering the past that is only interrupted by a soldier stopping their little carriage. The cuteness of the puppy gets them out of that scrape.
With their driver in tow, they reach Paris awfully quickly and apparently without incident, although Melissa has full-fledged measles now. At the train station, they meet Prince David Warner (check off the box for miniseries fixture), who works in Paris as a cab driver since "royal titles don't mean much here." Diana goes to pawn her jewels, finding them worth far less than expected because the French jewel market has been flooded with Russian gems.
It's up to Melissa to help bring in cash, so she decides to go look for work in the ballet, the Ballet Russes no less. She has no resume, but she has pluck. "I'm a dancer, a good dancer. It's what I've always wanted to do," she tells the haughty ballerina she meets in the theater. Diaghilev (Gregory Hlady) happens to be there and tells her to audition because most of his company has the measles. Since she has just overcome them (in about 43 seconds), that's a bonus already. She gets the job (thanks, in part, to a ballerina stand-in that is very obvious from afar, far less, um, robust, than Melissa), and then has to break the news to Granny, who refuses to let her "prostitute herself." She has an alternate suggestion: marry David Warner, who does have a crush on her. Nothing will stop Melissa from pursuing this dream. Diana and David both attend Melissa's opening and it's a triumph.
World War I is mentioned for the first time when Melissa asks David if Paris will fall to the Germans as a way to head off the conversation she knows he wants to have. "I will always be here for you," he tells her when she succeeds at keeping him at bay.
A small ticker tape parade (this goes back to the budget issue--there are maybe 50 extras and no doubt they all had to rip the bunting themselves before tossing it in the air) welcomes the American soldiers to Paris. Everyone is so excited because they will save France.
The Ballet Russes company is invited to General Pershing's residence. Now she will finally get to meet soldier Bruce Boxleitner, to whom she threw a carnation in the parade and who has seen her dance. His French is terrible, but her English is sterling, so phew, they have a language in common! Their brief waltz and uncomfortable small talk are interrupted when Bruce is needed by the General and the company has to get back to Paris. Diana is furious the next morning because Melissa "danced in the arms of a man to whom you have not been properly introduced."
Diana is clinging to the old way of life, which is as dead as her relatives. In a walk in the park with David, she falters and tells him, "I am not well," as if we needed verification. We all know that a stumble or a cough means imminent death on TV! "But, before I go, I must be sure that Zoya is not left alone among strangers," she tells David anointing him Melissa's husband-to-be. Bad timing, because Bruce has stalked Melissa to give her flowers and invite her to dinner, which she tells him Granny won't like. "It's not late dinners that my grandmother does not approve of, it's handsome American soldiers," she coyly says. "I bet I can win her over," Bruce says with cocky American style, but Melissa knows better than to even try that, so she agrees to dinner and what seems like a two-day walk around Paris so we can all see the sights (literally, it's day when they meet, night when they dine and walk and day again when they part). Bruce and Melissa have their giant romantic first kiss (with the orchestra going nuts) as Diana watches from the window, all but dying of horror.
"I cannot allow you to throw away your life on a man who is not one of us," Diana tells Melissa, hoping that when they return to Russia...uh oh, cue the knock on the door and the news that the Tsar and his family have been killed...scratch that return to Russia, I guess. What's Plan B, Granny? There isn't one, because Diana is very sick. The driver dies of whatever she has, and Diana doubles her efforts to marry Melissa to David. "Grandmama, the world has changed," Melissa says. "The sun and moon are still above us," Diana notes, though I'm not sure what it means. Even better, Diana says, "you know so little of the world. You cannot trust a soldier." Wait a minute. Diana has been living the life of a Russian aristocrat all of her life, so how does she know that? Melissa is the one who has been out in Paris among regular people, so if anyone should be dispensing advice...
Diana decrees Melissa must marry David, so Melissa runs through Paris, in a convenient rainstorm that will make this moment so much cheesier, to the American garrison to find Bruce. "I'm leaving, being sent to the front...I don't want you to wait for me," Bruce says, but Melissa begs entreats him to proclaim his love for her, which he won't do. "I don't expect to come back. Please don't wait for me!" he says and turns away. The course of true love is never easy in these types of stories. With hours yet to go, did you think it would be as simple as meet-fall in love-defy Granny-marry? Come on, you know better than that!
Melissa sums it up for us: no letters from Bruce, a war continuing, driver dead, Granny sick, days and nights miserable, and he's henpecked about marrying David. Basically, it can't get much worse for our heroine. "I can't remember being so unhappy in all of my life," she narrates.
One of those items on the list of tragedies remedies itself when Paris is liberated and awash in celebration. Melissa is innocently walking through the crowds when Bruce grabs her. He says he was working for intelligence (and he didn't stop to help this script?) and therefore couldn't contact her and was then sent to the front where communication was cut. Five minutes after telling her he couldn't ever see her again, he says he loves her and they get that very big kiss. Trying to bribe Diana, he brings gobs of food and presents to Melissa's little apartment, though of course Diana disapproves. Bruce even asks her permission to take Melissa to lunch and as she's about to say no, David says let them go. "You've just made a very serious mistake," she tells David, who replies "maybe so."
How's this for the whims of love? Bruce tells Melissa he was married before, though he is now a widower. "And yes, I loved her," he says, seeing the wheels turn in her head, "and now I love you." Melissa, hun, keep that in the back of your mind. Should you ever die, he'll still love you, but he'll move on too.
Bruce has to stop and change his clothes, and like all good mischievous Russian noblewomen, Melissa has to go snooping around the gigantic mansion that houses the soldiers. She catches Bruce just putting on his shirt. He's not upset. "Now you'll know where to picture me when I'm...uh...not with you," he says, in way that is supposed to sound romantic. This leads to a very uncomfortable conversation (for them and us) where Bruce says he needs to fight the sexual urges he has for her, though she tries to encourage them, and furthermore, he's hungry. "Take me," she says, cuing the removal of clothes and the violins. For a sex scene, it's very...network. No one shows any skin or even reaches second base, for that matter.
Knowing that Bruce is coming to pick Melissa up, Diana sends her to buy tea so she can talk to Bruce alone. She informs him that she is a countess (which Melissa never bothered to tell him), and asks if he's prepared to go back to Russia with her for her "many duties" as a countess. Diana still doesn't get that the old Russia is gone and Bruce doesn't seem to notice either, saying "we haven't talked about all of the details." Diana demands that Bruce break it off. He pussyfoots around it, using their age difference, their difference in backgrounds and all but hair color to halt wedding plans. We do feel for Bruce because Melissa blames him, which is what Diana had intended (and Bruce knew that, but went ahead with it anyway, which makes him one damn stupid man).
Melissa, told by Diaghilev that her "spirit has flown," can no longer dance and takes a job making hats. Diana is dying and commands Melissa to "bring me the egg," entrusting it to her. It's supposed to be a remembrance of everything, but that won't buy food! Diana admits that she sent Bruce away, but Melissa says, "you saved my life," at least remembering her priorities. And with that, Diana succumbs to that terrible unnamed illness that has been dogging her for the last few scenes. Other than the dog, David is all she has, by default. He knows she won't marry him, but he wants to cheer her up.
By this point in time, peace talks are going on at Versailles and General Pershing is a part of them, which means Bruce is back. They are reunited and moments later have been married. With the dog in tow, they depart for America, where Melissa declares, "I don't want anyone to know I'm a countess, just an American wife." Bruce sends her off to Axelle (Denise Alexander) to buy a whole new wardrobe, but the American gossips are already upset that she's so young, that she was a bawdy dancer, etc. Mid-pout, Melissa tells Bruce she's preggers, and a scene change later, they have a little boy. Another scene change later they also have a little girl. And the dog, of course. Naturally, at the pinnacle of happiness, Melissa chooses to remember what her grouchy grandmother always used to say, "tragedy teaches us many lessons."
Their problems don't seem so bad. The little girl is a brat and the dog is going deaf, but that's nothing extraordinary. Something is bothering Bruce, but he won't say what. When he mentions that he often forgets to appreciate his wife, we know for sure he certainly won't live to a ripe old age, but already? It can't be!
It is. Second billing, and Bruce has barely been on screen for 30 minutes or so. The lawyer has more bad news: she's broke, since Bruce tossed all their coin in the plunging stock market. The cliches keep a-comin' as they all bid farewell to Bruce at a rainy funeral. "For the first time, there was no one on whom I could depend," Melissa narrates to end the first portion of the miniseries.
Destitute in 1930, Melissa, the kids, that very old dog and a few sticks of furniture are leaving the old house. "We have to say hello to whatever is next," Melissa reports with chipper enthusiasm to her sulky children. Their new landlady in a tenement is Peggy Cass, sounding like the same strangled bird she did back in her "Auntie Mame" days 40 years earlier. It should be noted their new digs look a lot like the dive where Melissa lives with Grandmother Diana Rigg. And she still has the egg. Can't sell the egg.
For work, she tries to fall back on her dancing, but this isn't St. Petersburg and it isn't Paris. It's New York City and she goes to stand in line at an open call for Ziegfeld (although at a theater bearing his name, which is historically inaccurate--the Follies were held at the New Amsterdam). She's not tall enough, so she's sent to other theaters where they hire smaller actresses. This dive turns out to be a burlesque house, where somehow Melissa auditions with her ballet moves and gets the job (also historically inaccurate, because burlesque loved tall girls too). She's hired on the spot to start that night and has to leave her kids alone, with the dog, of course.
"Luckily the patrons, as they call them, were so drunk, they didn't notice I was crying," Melissa says of her first night, where we see her doing a Salome-type dance that isn't at all sexy. Pert as ever, she tells herself the job is perfect because the hours are convenient to take her kids to school. Spoken like a true ex-royal who has lost everything in the world.
And now we return to the fire that started the movie. She's been sent home early from the theater because business is so slow in the summer. Her son and daughter survive (at the beginning, we knew only about the daughter), but it's time to say goodbye to the dog. He's been around since the very first scene. "Slava saved our lives, Mama," her son says with little emotion. Melissa ignores that to narrate that "every family I had ever loved had been torn from me. I promised that day I would never let that happen again!" Yes, Scarlett, we expected you to say that at some point. The strong female in a miniseries always has to declare that when she hits bottom, and Zoya girl, you've hit bottom!
Everything that's happened so far, and I can't believe I'm saying this, is pretty normal and expected. Escaping the Russian Revolution has formed the basis of lots of stories. Marrying a handsome soldier against the family wishes, having him die early, poverty, well, it's the lifeblood of this genre. But, the rebuilding is where it gets kooky, because now the authors get to make the rest up, and unfortunately "the rest" always involves a younger generation that is nowhere near as exciting as the previous one ("Kane & Abel" a few weeks ago is ideal proof of that, but certainly "Mistral's Daughter" is the Holy Grail of somnambulist generational boredom).
Melissa goes to apply for a job at Axelle's (remember, that's Denise Alexander, more famous as Lesley Webber on "General Hospital"), where she once was able to shop with unlimited credit. Axelle tries to brush her off, but then Melissa invents personal shopping right there on the spot. Axelle thinks it's a good idea because of the clientele she has, but only if Melissa put her Countess title in front of her name. "It would be a real feather in their caps to be waited on by a countess," Axelle says, though Melissa has sworn over and over she never wanted to use the title again. "Without your title, you're just a salesgirl," Axelle snaps and Melissa doesn't have a choice.
It becomes 1938 and Melissa has worked her way up to second-in-command at Axelle, her kids now older, but still spoiled (Cameron Bancroft and Jennifer Garner--yes, that Jennifer Garner). Jennifer is actually downright obnoxious. Nothing Melissa does is good enough for her, and Melissa has no idea why. She buys a gorgeous brownstone for the family, but Jennifer finds every reason to complain.
For the first time in 20 years or so, Melissa returns to Paris, on a buying trip with Axelle. It's here that Melissa meets Philip Casnoff, also there to see the fashions. Gorgeous Philip is much more of a hunk than Bruce ever was, so there must be something wrong with him, no? Axelle can see there is a connection immediately, especially since he's of Russian ancestry, and allows them time alone.
Back in the US, Cameron has to rescue his sister from a crappy bar where she's had too much to drink and makes a fool of herself. This of course leads to an argument about Mama. "Is she away? I hadn't noticed," Jennifer growls to her brother, who says Mama loves her. "Funny, I had noticed that either," she dryly reports, pouring herself a drink.
Philip tries to take Melissa to dinner on her last night in Paris, and she tries to slither out of it, but Philip is clearly in love. He even gazes at her longingly as she talks about her children for the umpteenth time, which has to be as boring for him as it is for the viewer. During an outdoor dance at one of Paris' most romantic spots, the two dance and Philip kisses her. "Don't do that again," Melissa says. "I won't," replies Philip, who goes for a deeper kiss. Yes! That's the juice! That's the marshmallow confection romance miniseries are built on! The dialogue makes not a lick of sense, but the two lovers unite and that's what matters.
With Philip in tow, Melissa returns to NYC and meets Cameron, who is very pleasant to him. Jennifer, however, has been "kicked out of public school," so their reunion is less happy. Jennifer spits out a tirade that literally has her foaming at the mouth and I admit to sharing the puzzled look on Melissa's face to hear it. What the hell is this girl so upset about?
Philip scoots her off on a vacation to New England, where he's bought out the entire inn so they can be alone. Ah, the rich, taking vacations from their vacations. This leads to a bedroom scene with dim lighting, where Philip tells Melissa, "I don't want to just love you. I want to love you and be loved by you forever." Awwwww. "I'm afraid there is no such thing as forever," Melissa replies, but Philip hits the ground and proposes. He's willing to put up with her kids, he says, anything to be with her, so she says yes. The violins are back, though there is no actual sex scene shown.
As expected, Cameron is thrilled, but Jennifer is a bitch about it. "If you two want to walk down the straight and narrow, that's fine and dandy with me, but I don't need a father. I've already had one and he's dead," she rages, bolting out dramatically. Cameron follows after her, and finally Jennifer reveals a little of what has been bothering her: absentee parenting. She's been angry at having no parent around.
Let's parse this for a moment, shall we? She had two parents, like we all do. One died when she was but a babe. That's terribly sad, but it can't be changed. Since her remaining parent was not wealthy, someone has to support the family, which meant Mom went off to work. That may not all make sense to a child, but to a young woman, it should be fairy obvious. To Melissa's credit, she's given her kids a great life, spoiling them to the point that Jennifer's anger makes no sense, other than, I assume, it's leading to some bad behavior that will keep the plot churning. Parsing over.
Philip and Melissa are married in a lovely outdoor ceremony where Jennifer even cracks a smile congratulating her mother. When Christmas comes, Philip makes sure to charm the kids, buying Cameron a car and Jennifer a fur coat. That's nothing compared to the present for Melissa: her own store. It's the size of a hotel! It will be open in about six months, in time for the holidays. "In time for the baby," she notes. He's stunned, and so am I. She's how old? Predictably, Jennifer is pissed. "Once again, my mother will have a damn good reason not to pay attention to me," is her reaction. So much for happy tidings.
Since Melissa can't think of a name for the store, Axelle and Philip come up with "Countess Zoya." It took two people to come up with that name? Two supposedly smarty people? As the sign is unveiled, Melissa goes into labor and has a boy. The baby has good timing; he's born right as Hitler invades Poland. That would be September 1 and the store also opens that month, with Melissa in a non-pregnant form immediately. Back to work so soon? Jennifer's anger is suddenly a bit understandable. Two years pass in a snap so that the US is now in the war.
You don't need me to tell you that Cameron, a senior in college, enlists. "Whether I come back with one leg or two, or in a pine box, I'll still be your brother," he tells Jennifer, who loves only him in the entire world. For Melissa, it's doubly bad, because Philip goes into the service too. He swears they will be back. "Have I ever broken a promise?" Philip asks her. The odds of two men going off to war in a miniseries and both coming back are pretty damn slim.
Jennifer spends the war in the arms of anyone who will have her, while Melissa raises money and does everything her increasingly perky character should do. She even tries to mend fences with Jennifer, but the latter won't allow it. There is a moment where Jennifer seems like she's about to relent a little, but the war department arrives with a letter. Philip. When Jennifer even attempts to express sympathy, Melissa walks away. Good for her! Jennifer can't even be kind during the funeral.
What seems to finally crack Jennifer a bit is when she's offered a job in Melissa's store. She takes to it well, but she's not employee of the month. If she goes out, she comes in late. Good guy Cameron has a fiancee no one knew about (Susan Haskell) because she's from a fancy New England family. See, we've spent so much time on nasty Jennifer that no one noticed Cameron may have a plot of his own!
Melissa isn't wild about Susan, who wonders aloud at dinner why so much money and expense are spent on tanks and not "the women back at home." Okay, she's not so smart. But worse is Julian Stone, Jennifer's boyfriend, who is so obnoxious that Melissa wastes no time in offering to pay him off to get him to go away. Oh, that's going to sit well with Jennifer! Sadly, folks, we're deprived of a big confrontation scene by glamorous tycoon Melissa (yeah, I know, none of those words fit together) and her daughter because just as Melissa is exposing Julian, Jennifer flounces in to announce they were married the day before and she's pregnant.
"Stop," you say. In all of these marriages and deaths and new children, you want to know where the Faberge egg is. I'll tell you. Melissa gives it to Cameron when he buys his wife a new house. Just putting it out there, because it's the kind of detail, we should not forget.
Jennifer has a baby, but Melissa only finds out because she happens to be in Cameron's office when he gets the news. "The next few years floated by," Melissa narrates as her young son goes off to boarding school. All is well with Cameron, but Melissa has no contact with Jennifer. "For the first time in my life, I was completely and utterly alone," she says. Cue the knock at the door for Jennifer and her daughter to come home (Melissa has certainly earned some private time, but selfish Jennifer has to usurp it). Jennifer has left Julian, who was not only a con artist, but a wife beater. There's a bit of temper at the onset, but Jennifer says, "I know it's too late, but I really am sorry." "It's never too late, not as long as we're alive," Melissa comforts her, having a hug and a cry and suddenly a wonderful relationship.
Not a moment too soon. Jennifer goes to pack up her home and is in a car accident, left brain dead. "I had finally found my daughter and was now about to lose her," Melissa narrates. The Steel giveth and the Steel taketh away. Melissa's character has had more hard knocks in her lifetime than a gallery of real-life women, but Danielle Steel keeps piling on the bad stuff.
"They're waiting for you," Melissa tells Jennifer's body before they unplug the machine, listing all the people back to the Tsar whom she's lost. Melissa has a hard time crying because the prosthetic aging pieces on her face are glued on way too tight. "Say hello to everyone," she cries. I half expected the ghosts of everyone to show up in the room, but it's only Cameron, which his equally bad glued-on mustache and Melissa's other son.
Things are not well in Cameron's household either. Not only does Susan not want to take Jennifer's baby, but she couldn't be bothered to be at the hospital when they let go of Jennifer. They are headed for Splitsville. On top of that (of course), Julian returns, demanding to have his daughter, but Melissa and her sons refuse. As Julian forces the issue, Melissa reminds him that all of the money is in trust until the kid is 21. She makes him an offer: he can certainly have his daughter, but there is no money to go with her (and that's 15 years away), or he can take a cash settlement and be gone forever. He takes the money.
My guess is that perennially young Melissa Gilbert refused to be properly aged for this movie, because only that would explain how she spends the rest of the movie limping around on a cane, but still sporting a mass of luxurious hair (tinted, of course) and a face and body that haven't changed that much. By now, her granddaughter is a ballerina, doing what her grandmother always dreamed of before revolution, marriage, death, financial ruin, two wars, a few kids, a dog and Peggy Cass got in the way.
The "Countess Zoya" empire is sold, leaving Melissa even wealthier than before, but "unemployed," as she puts it. Ah, but her loving family have a present for her, a trip to Russia with her granddaughter (Tiffany Amber Knight). On her way out of the store for the last time, we have one of those beautiful Velveeta moments I mentioned at the onset: Melissa, surrounded by her family and stunning lighting, stops everything in the store dead in its tracks to make a goodbye speech. Every extra over the age of 83 is used, because apparently Melissa was so loyal to her employees that no one ever left, so we see countless old ladies smiling as their commander says her farewells and then descends the spiral staircase for the last time. Only on TV, folks.
That leaves us just with the return visit to Leningrad (it's still Communist Russia, by this point). Now the cheese is so thick, one can't even pick up one's feet to run from it. Melissa and her granddaughter walk around all of Melissa's old haunts, until coming to her home, which is now a museum. Coming out is a gaggle of students, one who has just found a puppy that looks an awful lot like...yeah, I know, it's too dumb to even finish that sentence. Ignore the puppy, that's just idiotic. The Communist government turned the home of a Tsar's niece into a museum and allows school trips there? Why does that not sound right? Anyway, Melissa hears one of the kids wonder if the little girl who saw her family massacred was sad and the teacher says, "time has a mysterious kindness. It always gives back to us what we have lost through wisdom and memories." Does she believe it? You bet! They attend the Kirov, perhaps the only possible true detail of a return trip to Leningrad at this point in history. While watching the ballet, Melissa reaches into her purse and pulls out...the egg! Yes, to give it to her granddaughter.
Wait, she was allowed to schlep a Faberge egg into Communist Russia and walk around with it? THAT'S the end?
I have to admit, I find "Zoya" incredibly fun. It's a typical romance story of a woman overcoming every possible obstacle a human can encounter. It's the basis for hundreds of empowering books every year. The story itself is certainly nothing brilliant. What makes "Zoya" more watchable than many of its miniseries sisters is that it knows the value of efficiency. The scenes are quick and to-the-point, the pace breezy, not even slowing down to get too maudlin. For instance, Jennifer's death scene is handled so fast, as if they had the hospital set only for 10 minutes and had to get everything done. But, that's a hell of a lot better than turning it into an hour-long sobfest.
The other thing that makes "Zoya" watchable? There is no attempt by the people who cast it to use anyone capable of merely adequate acting. I don't mean that to sound as nasty as it reads. But, when you hire someone like Melissa Gilbert, you do not expect great fantastic acting. You expect capable acting. Therefore, there is no attempt by the script to overdo any emotional scenes. Everything is kept in careful check. Again, everything is in place to simply get the job done and tell the story. It doesn't need the frills that would weigh it down. For that, it deserves a lot of credit.
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