Nutcracker: Money, Madness and Murder (1987)

Here we have the ripped-from-the-headlines sensationalized miniseries, but not hiding behind fake names like the Dominick Dunne stories.  Oh, no.  Frances Schreuder's case was very real, but very bizarre.  Made in 1987, "Nutcracker: Money, Madness and Murder" would probably nowadays be just a "Law and Order" plot line, but it was quite sensational at the time.

In the wrong hands, this movie could go entirely off-kilter and seem just plain exploitative.  Think of Betty Broderick as not played by Meredith Baxter, just some lunatic killer who couldn't let go of her husband.  But here, Frances should be honored to be played by Lee Remick, one of film's all-time greatest actresses giving a dazzling performance.  Where other actresses might be content to just have fun playing a lunatic, Lee gives it all she has.  Those who prize the performances of her early career may object, but I would rate this as one of her finest acting gigs.  There isn't a trick she doesn't use, and her arsenal of them is more than most actresses could ever dream of.  As sadistic and cruel as her Frances Schreuder is, she's also utterly captivating and when she's not in a scene, you just can't wait until her return. 

To be fair, everyone here is excellent, from Tate Donovan as Frances' Oedipally-confused son to Elizabeth Wilson as her dimwitted mother and Inga Swenson as her rational sister.  As always, one can count on John Glover to ace his role, this time that of Frances' ultra-wacko best friend. 

By 1987, the American miniseries had seen its best entries, no doubt about it, but that doesn't mean that it was a completely flaccid genre.  "Nutcracker: Money, Madness and Murder" does not have the historical sweep or grand romantic passion of the most beloved miniseries titles, but it is certainly one of the best, a model of tight construction, an engaging story and sublime acting.  Five hours fly by, with very little in the way of fat to be trimmed. 

The opening is a montage of scenes, of a crying child, of the ballet and a trial.  It's as confusing as the mind of a madwoman, the perfect intro to the story of one.  Things start to make sense with a flashback to Frances Schreuder's college days at Bryn Mawr.  Okay, Lee is a bit old for a college student, but actually, she looks better than any of the gals in "Lace" who tried a similar gimmick.  Talking to her roommate over drinks, Frances suddenly goes into a rage, yelling "I don't care what you think" and pounding on the walls to her roommate Paula's (Zina Bethune) shock.  After that, Frances is off to the school guidance counselor, where we find out she's once swallowed an entire bottle of aspirin and is generally a hot-headed pushy know-it-all.  It all goes back to her childhood, where her mother called her "a difficult child," such a big crier that the entire family had to sing to her to try to get her to sleep. 

Intercut with the past are scenes from Frances' trial.  First to testify is her sister Marilyn (Inga Swenson).  Marilyn says the two had a wonderful relationship for most of their lives.  Then things started to change, and not for the better.  She became, in the words of the lawyer, "nervous" and "upset," and Marilyn can't argue. 

Frances realizes her dream of moving to New York City, which she considers the center of the world, but having grown up in Salt Lake City, that's certainly understandable.  Lunching with Paula one afternoon, Frances meets Vittorio (Tony Musante), a ridiculously cheesy Italian who drenches every line with sexual overtones.  Paula knows when she's had enough of these two high-strung people and when she leaves, Frances shouts, "you were more fun when you drank" and "you can be a real drag sometimes, Paula!"  Frances switches personalities faster than slimy Vittorio gets her into his car.  After a night with him, Frances bounces off to Marilyn, who has to pay for everything and remind Frances of the bills she's rung up in everyone else's name.  No one else is brave enough to talk to Frances about it, lest she make one of her "fusses," as Marilyn politely calls them. 

In bed with Vittorio, Frances prattles on, jumping from the subject of a married sister to her brother's lobotomy to her father's incredible wealth, all of which seems to bore Vittorio somewhat.  "I'll be fabulously wealthy when he dies," she says of her father, though Vittorio only wants her to drink more champagne. 

Frances is tossed out of college and it's Marilyn who brings her obviously psycho sister home to recover, not to mention avoid a slew of criminal charges.  Her parents (Elizabeth Wilson, at her grandest and creepiest and G.D. Spradlin) and sister Elaine (Linda Kelsey) are not the most sympathetic bunch.  Mother Berenice is against getting Frances any help, preferring a wait-and-see method, to which Elaine snaps, "why don't we all just go and sing to her?"  After getting her uncle to cover for one of the crimes involving faked stock certificates, she slips away from home and flies back to NYC and Vittorio.  "You are a liar and a cheat and you tried to steal my money...and I am mortified that everyone here knows what you did," Father Franklin tells her, nearly having a heart attack spitting out the words.  His rage is matched by Frances over the phone, who barks that she no longer needs his money.  "My husband will support me," she says and hangs up, leaving Franklin puzzled.

Berenice is completely blind to her daughter's issues, calling Elaine to crow about the upcoming wedding.  "All I can say is 'praise the Lord!' I think all our troubles are over," she wails, though Elaine knows trouble is coming.  Soon Frances and Vittorio are the parents of two boys.  The marriage doesn't last since Frances can't stop her wild ways and stay put.  Frances sure as hell knows how to argue!  Coming home at 2am one night, she and Vittorio have a huge blow-up, and she comes up with a classic line that most spouses wouldn't dare use: "If you're so insanely jealous that you're checking up on me, you deserve what you get.  You deserve to think all the filthy things you think!"  Wow, that's a good one!  They hit each other and then Frances tries to jump out of the window, with her young boys watching.  Vittorio thinks she's calm, but then she reaches for a bottle of pills and downs as many as she can. 

And Frances has a lot more crazy to dish out.  Vittorio comes home one day to find the apartment bare, with "Heil Mussolini" and "Heil Hitler" scrawled on the walls. 

Called to testify is Richard Behrens (John Glover), who met Frances in the early 60s in church.  Richard picks up on Frances not being "shy and retiring" as she jokes, an equally forward man.  "DICK...Behrens," he introduces himself, and Frances counters with a flirty handshake and an introduction of her name, "at least until my divorce is final."  "I only know three French phrases and I don't know you well enough to say the other two," Frances chirps as Richard gives her a cigarette at the church coffee social. 

Give Frances a witness stand, and she lights up!  In 1964, she's divorcing Vittorio and seems delighted by the proceedings.  After telling the court they had sex only once in nearly a year and a half, she claims he told her he "had an allergy to sex" and lists the men Vittorio accused her of having sex with (she says none of it is true, but she's awfully proud when listing).  During the trial, she's upset that she has to get up early to take care of the kids.  However, even fresh out of bed, Frances is capable of one hell of an argument, going rounds with her mother while the boys eat breakfast. 

Frances' father receives information "sent in confidence" proving Frances' bad actions, time with men, etc. and when she hears about it, she goes bonkers, first on her mother and then on her father.  Vittorio moves back to Italy after the divorce since he's bankrupt and loses contact with his sons for over five years.  Marilyn has even reported Frances to the police because she had disappeared and when Marilyn went to check on her, found "the door wide open" and the boys looking "like a couple of animals...eating chocolate cake and french fries.  They had gone down to the deli and begged for food."  Marilyn and her mother decide "something had to be done," but Berenice refuses to think of hospitalization due to the issues with her son.

While Frances lunches with Richard and they try to remember what happened during recent drunken binges, Marilyn and Berenice steal the kids.  Berenice leaves a note, but Frances doesn't discover it immediately because she has brought a strange man home.  Once she does find out, however, she books an airline ticket while stabbing the note with a huge kitchen knife.  To say Frances is pissed when she arrives in Salt Lake City is an understatement.  She physically assaults her mother, pushing her against a class China cabinet and takes her kids.  On the flight back, Frances pens a letter to her mother, not only full of rage, but also claiming that she's a better mother because she actually loves her kids and they love her, calling them "sincere emotions." 

Time shows that Frances' children are seriously disturbed.  She puts one in a special school, where he is diagnosed with "psychosis," but Frances doesn't pay the school's bills.  Is it any wonder?  Frances and Richard discuss this diagnosis over Chinese food (Frances doesn't cook) with both kids present.  She even compares her son to "The Bad Seed."  The poor kid believes what he hears, even though his brother tries to comfort him.  He won't sleep, instead banging his head against the bed, acting crazy like everyone says he is.  He has every reason to be worried, because in the next room, Frances is telling Richard that not only is she going to send the boys to Utah for the summer (sending them to the family she so despises, just to get rid of them), and plans to leave Lorenzo there because "he's getting to be an evil influence on Marco."

The boys actually flourish in Utah, allowed to have fun and enjoying the quiet.  "It's not so noisy...like New York," Marco says, with "New York" meaning "Mom."  Both sons are very upset when they hear Lorenzo is not to return to New York, though Lorenzo tries to pretend he's okay with it.  The look in his eyes when Marco leaves looks like a killer in the making.

Meanwhile, Frances marries again, to a Dutch businessman named Frederick Schreuder (Charles Howerton).  Someone had the fantastic idea to condense Frederick's ordeal to a wacky medley that shows a smiling wedding and a screaming couple in alternating snippets.  Frances is full on lunatic, destroying rooms, swallowing pills, a "best of" crazy Frances antics.  The union produces a child and her older boys are now called Marc and Larry, though officially adopted by Frederick, who never actually gets a line. 

In the hospital, Berenice prattles on that she finally convinced her husband to make a will and Frances only wants to know how much she's going to get of the $50 million Berenice claims her husband must have.  "A question never asked is a question never answered" she tells a clucking Marilyn when Frances asks how much, but refuses to give any details.  At the end of the monologue about money, without taking a breath, Berenice says to Frances, "you look sort of depressed."  "She seems sort of Frances to me," Marilyn says with a withering demeanor. 

The movie hits a definitely snag whenever it comes to the topic of money, but the snags are unfortunately necessary to understand the family dynamics regarding money.  Basically, Franklin is a "miser," Berenice wants to spend all of their money on her children and grandchildren and it gets so bad that Frances sues Franklin for stocks she believes are hers.  He counter sues, claiming Frances' "fiscal irresponsibility."  "I don't know how much longer this family can go on unless that crazy old man kicks the bucket," Frances says to herself, decked out wonderfully by the ocean on Fire Island.

At the trial, it's Marc's (Tate Donovan) turn to testify.  He testifies that he lived under constant pressure from his mother.  "You just don't say no to Mom," he says, "and if you did say no, she would scream and yell and go into hysterics and threaten to..." without finishing with "commit suicide." 

As the boys grow up (Larry is played by Frank Military), life stays as unbalanced as ever.  Frances never pays the bills and Marc has to hide a camera he bought in triple suitcases with locks so she won't hock it.  When Larry comes for a visit, he makes the mistake of not only mentioning Frederick, but also Aunt Marilyn, saying he wants to visit the latter.  "If you do, don't expect to come back here.  Is that understood?" Frances threatens. 

Frances is ever the manipulator.  Upon hearing Franklin is sick with the flu, she dictates a flowery letter for Marc to write, gushing over his ailing grandfather, who thinks it's "the nicest darn letter I've ever received."  Everyone believes it's real!  This comes about because there are rumors Franklin discussed rewriting his will to cut out Frances and her kids.  Frances, on a grand bed with a tray of food and plenty of luxury, gripes to Marc that if money doesn't come from her parents soon, she'll have to move to Harlem, although she prefers that to Salt Lake City when Marc suggests that as an option.  In this same conversation, she also talks for the first time of her father dying of "unnatural causes." 

Our darling Frances actually means it.  She asks Richard to get her a gun because "she wanted to kill her father." 

As daughter Ariadne is becoming a little girl, Frances decides "you're going to be a dancer," tossing around the room with her mother.  Ariadne isn't sure if she wants to do it, but Frances has already decided it's to be.  She's just as nutso with Marc, who is quite the school brainiac.  On a phone call, she treats him almost like a lover, but also wants to discuss a certain subject that Marc is hoping to avoid.  It can't be mentioned over the phone, because a drinking and pill-popping Frances thinks her phones are tapped.  "The discussion part of the situation is rapidly drawing to a close," she says. 

Frances has a howler of a conversation with Richard.  It starts with getting Ariadne into a proper elementary school and then moves on to her favorite topic of patricide.  Richard jokes she should get a hit man, but Frances says, "I have two," her sons, "although they don't know it yet.  It's time they did something for their mother after all the sacrifices I've made for them" and then finishes that sentence back on the topic of her daughter's education. 

By the mid-70s, Vittorio is back.  "I'd say money-wise, your new wife did a lot better than I did," Frances says to him as they try to have a friendly lunch.  The argue a bit about Larry and she talks of plans for a house in The Hamptons.  He wonders where the money is coming from, but she remains coy.  She certainly acts like a woman with money.  When she takes her daughter to be enrolled in a fancy school, she hires a limousine to do it!

Back on the witness stand, Marc tells the court that in the summer of 1977, they were sent to Salt Lake City.  Why?  "We came out to steal some money for Mom and at the same time, we were supposed to kill Grandfather," he says.  Well, that's succinct.  How she got them to do it is really just her old manipulation tricks.  She guilts them about going to fancy schools while "your little sister and I will walk the streets of Harlem."  Frances assures them that "if you do it right, you won't get caught.  Do you know how many people do that to each other every day and never get caught?"  Playing cards later, she tells them to pretend it's an intruder.  No, Granny will wake up.  How about setting fire to the warehouse when he's alone?  Larry seems to get into it, wanting to do it in the bathtub.  Ideas come, ideas go, but one finally sticks.  "We were supposed to put amphetamines in his food...to induce a heart attack," Marc testifies.  Larry doesn't want to do it, but Marc tells him "we'll be locked out forever" if they don't. 

With pills sewn into stuffed animals, the boys head to Salt Lake City as planned.  Marc finds stealing money very easy, and Frances is thrilled.  "What about the primary objective?...I want a progress report every day!" she tells Marc, as if this is a precise military action.  She's downright giddy with all that's going on.  Of course, it helps that she's at an opulent summer home, the kind of place that makes anyone giddy, preparing for murder or not.  When the murder is constantly delayed, Frances goes on a tirade, berating Marc into tears, but the movie is mute, playing music instead of dialogue, a very clever device.

Franklin figures out the boys have been ripping him off.  He throws the boys out of the warehouse.  The bank is willing to replace the money, but only if Franklin deals with "the federal offense" of theft.  Unbelievably, Franklin is still conflicted, because "it's still family."  He does add a rider to his will cutting out Frances and the boys.  "If Larry had only done what he was supposed to do, none of this would have happened.  He blew it!" she bellows at Richard.  After dealing with "amateurs," Frances decides "it's time to go professional" and wants Richard to find someone.  She even tells Vittorio proudly, but he doesn't take any action to stop her. 

Frances blows through the stolen money in no time and calls her mother for money.  She lists all of her bills, but her mother says she can't afford to pay them.  Frances says she's sending the bills to her mother "return mail and if you don't pay them, I will never speak to you again!"  Her mother does forge checks in her husband's name.

Through Richard, Frances meets Waring (Harris Laskawy), who is to do the hit.  He asks a lot of questions she doesn't want to answer, so she contents him by saying it's a financial matter.  "It usually is," he says dryly.  Once again, as the plan is put in motion, the dialogue is muted, but we get the point as Frances hands Waring pictures and cash.  According to his testimony, he never actually intended to do it, "that it couldn't be done."  Frances, though upset at being ripped off, is not finished with the idea of bumping off her father. 

Any of you who read about "North and South" in this column will remember the power of Inga Swenson's Christmas Sing-a-Long, and wouldn't you know, she gets to repeat the act here!  This time, it's the 1970s and she's with her parents in Salt Lake City, but there is our girl, belting out Christmas numbers to cheer her family.  Afterwards, Marilyn and her mother discuss Frances and her kids, who have stopped talked to the rest of the family (except for Larry).  Marilyn asks if Franklin ever revised his will formally and Berenice doesn't know, but if he did, "that certainly puts you in the cat bird seat," without realizing how frightening that is, since the new will would make her executor, and therefore the target of Frances' ire. 

Back in New York, things are getting worse.  Larry is locked out of the apartment.  Why?  His grades.  "I told him a 4.0.  A 3.7 just doesn't cut it in this family," Frances rages as Larry bangs at the door and Marc pleads with his mother to allow Larry inside.  When Marc lets him in, Frances has perhaps her scariest moment of the movie yet.  "Okay, Marc, you let him in, you get him out...or you will be out too.  Out," she says, but with a calm demeanor belied only by flashing intense eyes.  It's worse than one of her tirades! 

When it comes to her father's money, Frances is obsessed.  She's back to the idea of killing him and the only one who can do it is Marc, who somehow stays loyal to his insane mother.  He wants to know why he has to do it.  "You're the only one I can trust.  I've told you that a thousand times," she coos before planting a lingering kiss on his lips.  "Life wouldn't be worth living under the current circumstances," she also says, once again threatening to kill herself, which is something Marc can't fathom.  "You want that on your conscience for the rest of your life?" she says, pushing it one step further.  A montage of silent scenes follow, with plans being made, Marc vacillating and finally being thrown out of the house as well, more suicide attempts and lots of Ariadne's dancing. 

Finally, Marc caves, calls a friend in Texas to help him buy a gun and then heads West.  He practices using a gun, spends a nervous night in a motel and then goes to Franklin's warehouse on a Sunday morning when no one else is there but his unsuspecting grandfather.  The tension is high as Franklin chit chats while making a pot of coffee and Marc stands behind him, gun ready.  We don't see the shooting, but we hear it.  We only see Marc leaving the warehouse. 

When the police come to question Berenice, Elizabeth Wilson's hysterics are dead on.  She never gives up her daughter, never suggests there is anything but harmony in the family, though she does admit the will is universally detested.  Larry even seems a bit brainwashed.  "He was a very nice man," he tells the police of his grandfather, also saying he can't think of anyone who would do such a thing.  The police do ask about Frances, but Larry is fairly vague. 

Marc arrives home to a jubilant Frances, though she wants to make sure there were no "hitches."  She tells him to get rid of the gun and he cracks, "you might need it again sometime," to which she icily replies, "I'm going to overlook that impertinent remark and attribute it to the extenuating circumstances of your mental state.  No one saw you at all, right?"  Her motherly affection has its limits.  She's not any smarter than her son when it comes to the gun.  She brings it to Richard to get rid of.  He asks, logically, why she didn't just throw it in the river?  She claims not to be thinking right.  "I only have this dope's word for it that it went all right," she tells Richard, nodding backward at poor Marc.  She's only worried about herself.  Despite Marc's assurances that everything went smoothly, she is only focused on Richard getting rid of the gun. 

Marilyn takes the will to the Detective Campbell (Robert Shenkkan), who begin to hear some stories about Frances and her sons, but only enough to wonder a little.  Even Frances goes to Salt Lake City with her sisters for the funeral.  Elizabeth Wilson gets another great scene with her three girls assembled, crying that after 50 years of marriage, they never had wedding rings.  However, Lee Remick isn't about to let anyone steal so much as a scene from her, so her acting at the funeral is a downright hoot!  Drenched in black, veil at all, she sobs uncontrollably, so much so that everyone in the church, including the police, focus their attention on her. 

Frances then goes to Campbell, still in the veil, and when asked what she knows about the murder, she says only that "he never knew what hit him," which the police find a bit strange.  She turns into a chatterbox about her glamorous life in Europe with Frederick.  She is asked about the stealing of the previous summer and at first pretends to know nothing of it, but at the crucial moment when the cop thinks she is about to spill all, Frances says of the forged checks, "my mother has been doing that for years!"  Campbell is stunned, and, knowing she's gotten him off the scent, at least for now, she puts back on the veil and says she can't talk about it.  Masterful!  Frances claims that, "I knew my father better than anyone else, including my mother!"  She tries just about anything she can to keep the cop thinking of others instead of her. 

Marilyn and Elaine try to get their mother to see the truth, suggesting Larry could have easily pulled off the murder, but Berenice is blind to it (she's his alibi, and she's actually right in her defense of him).  Why would he do it, she wants to know.  "Because someone asked him to," Marilyn says, trading looks with Elaine that come right out of a classic film noir. 

Back in NYC, Frances has one of the most interesting therapy sessions I've ever seen.  She pretty much has herself convinced that her father was killed during a robbery like everyone else.  She jumps from that to the state of the NYC subway system and then to the $3000 a month she is receiving from the estate until the will is sorted out.  That's hardly enough, she claims.

To Marilyn's dismay, Larry passes a lie detector test.  It proves that he did not commit the crime, but it does say that he has "undisclosed knowledge" that means very little since polygraphs do not tell much.  The police are still investigating, but they have gotten nowhere in five months. 

Flush with cash, and speaking like a dictionary on crack, Frances tells her latest suitor that she's been invited to underwrite a New York City Ballet gala.  At the same time, sister Elaine has called the FBI and given them all the information she has on Frances.

But we have to watch out for Richard.  He takes Marc for a walk and ask him "what did it feel like?"  Marc is so brainwashed that he says he had to do it since his mother "is my only friend."  Richard pushes the issue, demanding to know what it actually felt to like to kill another human being. 

Frances does indeed get her gala, but the old guard of the ballet board doesn't like her.  "She's prepared to buy her way onto the board," one old dame croaks.  "It would set the ballet back a generation."  But, Frances is having too much fun playing the rich diva to even notice.  She almost brings the party to a halt when she yells at her mother in an argument about Ariadne's behavior. 

A year and a half after the murder, the Campbell admit to Marilyn that the case is "on the back burner," but she is still convinced Larry did it.  She extracts gossip from her mother that Marc couldn't go to college because he was caught stealing high school property, but that Larry is doing wonderfully in college.

Really?  After sex with a girl, he tells her she's the first he's ever had "without having to pay for it" and that his "roommate is really messing with my head...he's sending out all these alpha waves...I think he's trying to turn me into a girl."  Riiiiiiiiight. 

Richard asks Frances to open a joint bank account with him because he needs to hide some money in order to get a loan. 

Larry snaps over the whole alpha wave issue and bludgeons his roommate with a hammer.  He's locked up in an institution, where Frances treats him like a failure still.  "I don't know why you didn't kill him, which I what I assume your intentions were," she says and then laughs about the alpha waves.  "I suppose a psychotic episode was inevitable sooner or later," she quips.  Berenice still won't believe Larry capable of actual murder when Marilyn uses this as evidence that Larry must have killed his grandfather. 

Back at the ballet, Frances is still being tolerated by everyone because she throws around money.  She ponies up $350K for a new Balanchine piece and can't even pronounce the man's name right.  "I've really begun to think of him as my spiritual father," she says in another great moment of self-delusion. 

The bank informs Richard that $3K is missing from the joint account and he's furious, wanting it back, but Frances refuses to say she took it.  "Call the police, mother!" she bellows and storms out.  Making an enemy out of Richard is not going to be a good idea.  You can see where this is leading.  Marc has little sympathy for him, saying he should never have gone into a financial venture with Frances of all people (oh, and they mention in passing that Larry got 2-5 years for the attempted murder of his roommate).  Fuming, Richard contacts everyone about the money, including Marilyn.  In one of his many phone calls, Richard tells her that Larry didn't murder Franklin, that Marc did.  He tells her he even has the gun and gives it to her. 

Marilyn takes the gun to the police in New York City, who contact the Salt Lake City police.  She promises Richard she will not tell anyone where she got the gun and sticks to that when Campbell from Utah come to New York.  The cop's next stop is Marc at college, though Marc keeps saying he must want his brother, in jail already for attempted murder.  It should be easy to sell his insane brother down the river.  Marc panics and calls his mother as Campbell goes off to Texas to trace Marc's gun purchase.  Frances is too upset to deal with the news because John Lennon has just been shot.  Her attachment to reality is really slipping.  Finally, Marilyn has to tell the police about Richard.  He's the missing link. 

Naturally, Richard tells all.  "I suddenly realized I was the only person who knew about this," he says, going further that he was worried that Frances has a habit of turning on people and he worried he could be next.  This proves to be enough evidence to arrest Marc.  "Do you know what happens to attractive young boys in jail?" Frances asks her mother, before demanding $125K in bail money.  And she gets it!  Richard and Frances meet, where she berates him for being stupid since he's so involved, but Richard says he has in writing that he is immune from prosecution.  "You've made the most terrible mistake.  I feel really sorry for you," she tells Richard and then tells him to say that none of it is true.  He still wants his money, but she comes up with a great retort for that: "They are out there testing the trap door for the gallows for my son and all you can think about is money!"  Saying "I'm not a nasty person by nature," she threatens Richard that if he doesn't recant, she will tell the cops about his involvement and then goes one very scary step further, that Marc has murdered once in a "drastic situation."  Richard gulps big time hearing that. 

Richard recants his story under threat from Frances.  Campbell is furious and another detective, Mike George (Daniel Hugh Kelly) is brought in to help.  However, the police aren't finished with Richard and arrest him on obstruction of justice. 

Frances, who somehow got herself a position on the ballet board, worries now about Ariadne's audition to its dance company.  She won't let Ariadne eat and when the poor kid asks for a piece of toast, she goes into one of her rambling tirades.  "Can you imagine her eating one of your meals that makes her little tummy bloat like a fatso?" she asks her mother while Ariadne, looking painfully thin and sick, is still at the table.  "Today is the day you become the youngest member of the American Ballet Company and if you don't, I'll put you up for adoption," Frances says with a giggle.  Ariadne is understandably horrified.  Luckily, they take Ariadne, because if they hadn't, one can only guess what Frances would have done!

The police finally have enough evidence to arrest Marc.  How does Frances react to this?  "It's an outrage...luckily it wasn't in the papers, only the Daily News.  I don't know anyone who reads the Daily News.  If it had been The New York Times, I'd have been ruined!"  Basically, just what you would expect from her at this point.  Mike George is given the task of visiting Larry in the institution, but he's of little help until Mike mentions Frances.  At that point, he gets scared.  "My mom has a real irresistible personality," he says. 

The net is closing in on Frances, who threatens Marc that if he gives her up, "I'll be of no used to you if I'm incarcerated."  But, Marilyn is convinced of Frances' guilt and so is Vittorio, who has no idea his son has been arrested until Mike George shows up in his office.  Marc wants to move from his flop house into Frances' apartment, but Frances is resolute, saying "the less you're around me, the better for the both of us."  "It's me they're trying to nail, not you," Marc says and then Frances has the most chilling line of the whole crazy movie: "And that's the way I want to keep it!"  She tries to slither out of that, but we all know it's true.  With a lingering kiss, she sends Marc off, saying "you've been here too long already."  Marc's lawyer insists that Frances was involved and begs Marc to give her up.  His nerves shot, he finally admits it.  At the same time, Richard, promised immunity, tells Mike George his story, recanting his recantation, and tells them even more than they ever expected. 

The police finally arrive to arrest Frances and she tries jumping out the window to avoid arrest.  Marc is extradited to Utah and Frances posts bail at Riker's Island, snapping at the limo driver for being late.  However, once back at home, she's off in her alternate universe!  She delights over the cards sent to her by everyone at the ballet.  She even got a note from Balanchine, but has also heard rumors that they want her off the board.  She celebrates her freedom with her mother and daughter, forcing the latter to eat caviar because one has to learn to love it. 

It's decided to try Marc and Frances separately, but Marc refuses to testify against his mother.  So, his new lawyers decide to put his old lawyer on the stand, with his permission.  Finally, the truth is heard in open court.  Berenice still sticks by her daughter, but Frances of course tells her that Marc is lying and she had no involvement.  Frances continues with life as normal, buying jewelry and soaking her mother for millions.  Marc is sentenced to prison and Frances is doing the social whirl.

A year later, the police ask Marc to reconsider testifying against his mother.  "You help us and we'll help you," they tell him, knowing that he's not exactly enjoying prison!  He agrees and Frances is summoned to Utah for a trial.  Bits of the testimony are repeated in a quick montage.  Frances watches it all, toying with a cigarette lighter and seemingly nonchalant until Marc actually arrives to testify, something she thought would never actually happen.  Frances breaks down during the testimony, and unbelievably, her mother reaches to calm her down.  Berenice still believes Frances will go free because it's all lies.  Wow, the power of self-deception is staggering! 

Frances is found guilty.  She has no reaction to the verdict and is spared the death penalty for life in prison. 

Crime like this was once the lifeblood of TV movies, but this one does it differently.  This one relies on the fascinating character at the center of the horrible crime rather than the crime itself.  The combination of Frances Schreuder and Lee Remick playing her is unbeatable!

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.

Marco Polo (1982)

The great thing about the story of Marco Polo's adventures in Asia is that no one knows what really happened, so telling the story can be as fanciful as the imagination allows.  Marco Polo himself had a little trouble with the truth, often altering events, or making them up, in order to make his writing more attractive.  Biographers in the many centuries since his escapades have had only minor success in discovering more about the man since they tend to base their writings on his.

What is undeniably true is that Marco Polo was one of the very first "Westerners" to travel across the vast open spaces of Asia, and one of the first to commit his journey to paper.  He gets credit for opening up trade between East and West, even though in his own book he's not the first to do so (his father and uncle had already been there and back before taking him along).  What is also undeniably true is that Marco Polo had color and flair, writing so vividly that the reader, even centuries later, cannot help but be captivated.  What better medium than the miniseries to tell this thrilling tale of adventure and discovery?  It has a bigger story than even "Shogun," which is saying a lot, and it doesn't need to stick to any actual facts since the subject himself didn't, meaning we can bring on the gorgeous sets and costumes and not worry at all about historical accuracy. 

There are umpteen version of Marco Polo's story, but only one is an Emmy Winner, for "Best Limited Series" as the miniseries category was still called in 1982.  This is primarily an Italian production with a primarily (sometimes comically) American cast, so it's hokey at times, for sure, but no expense is spared, that's for sure.  It's a riot of color and noise and imagination at its best, talky and a bit giddy in deciding that all men in the Thirteenth Century were created equal (even if they were, no one believed it then) at its worst.

Let's collectively go back to the thirteen century, about as far back as a miniseries is willing to go if Jesus isn't involved.  As we would expect, the miniseries starts after the events so we can learn them in flashback.  It's 1282 and Marco Polo is an aging Venetian fighting in a long war against Genoa.  A better traveler and writer than warrior, Marco (Ken Marshall) is captured during a battle and languishes in prison.  We pick the story back up in 1298 (a year before his release).  I issue a warning: the first part of the miniseries is very slow, but give it time. 

Marco's cell mate is Rustichello (David Warner), who has committed Marco's adventures to paper, angering the church, because everything back then angered the church.  Priests are accusing Rustichello of "corrupting the minds of the young and innocent" with the stories written.  Rustichello, who fancies himself a writer and wishes the priests would read his other works, defends Marco's stories as true, even if they are about pagan cultures that so infuriate the church. They force Rustichello to tell repeat everything, not able to make much of his rambling writings.  Periodically, the miniseries will remember that Rustichello exists and return to him and the inquisitive priests for a few moments, none at all necessary.

Rustichello starts with Marco's birth and early years.  His father and uncle have been gone since before he was born and young Marco waits by the wharf in Venice for any news of his father.  Mom (Anne Bancroft) is dying, so he is taken care of mostly by Aunt Flora (Sada Thompson).  "You're like your father. A house is too small for you," Brooklyn-ish Italian matron Mama Polo says, clinging to an out-dated version of her long-gone husband, promising he'll return and take care of the young lad.  A compulsive crier, Mama Polo has heard nothing of her husband for years.  In the middle of a heaving sobfest, she dies.

"She didn't leave a penny for any of us," practical Aunt Flora notes as she and her husband take over Marco's house.  She's not thrilled with the situation, but she gets a nice big bedroom out of the deal now that Mama Polo is gone.  She even goes after Marco's absent father, saying he never sent any money home, "only these, pagan objects that shouldn't be kept in a Christian home" (referring to some bric-a-brac from Asia).  Believing the objects have not only killed Marco's mother, but also put a hex on the home, she tosses them into the water outside the bedroom window and delivers a glowering speech about how Marco's father has cursed them all by consorting with any number of horrible people.  Marco runs off in tears, and Aunt Flora shouts, "Marco, what's wrong with you?"  Hmm, could it be that you just denigrated both of his parents, one absent his whole life and the other a fresh corpse?

By 1269, our Marco has grown into a strapping lad, waiting every day for his father's return.  One morning, a "ghost ship" is spotted and Marco hurries over to it, told to stay away because they are in quarantine.  Alas, his father and uncle are not on that ship.  "There's a whole world out there, beyond the lagoon, vast as the sky," Marco tells all those around him, still believing in the fanciful notions he's hobbled together from sailors and others who have traveled outside of Venice.  In fact, Marco is a dreamer so bad that his uncle snarls at him, "where is your head?  I'll have to nail it back to your shoulders" after Marco gives the fish he's bought on behalf of his uncle to a pretty young girl he's just met. 

The girl would be Caterina (Georgia Slowe), a wealthier Venetian who may be pretty, but is way too lofty to be at all interesting.  She patiently listens to Marco's desires and he gives her the only figuring he still has left from his father, made of jade, which she describes as "rock made of water and grass."  At least she's an island of sweetness in Marco's drab life (even if her mother is the town's most notorious courtesan, as Marco finds out later).  When Marco isn't at the docks hearing that his uncle and father were probably killed in the nastiest ways by Mongols, Aunt Flora is shouting at him such charming lines as  "this isn't a tavern!  Dinner was ready for you three hours ago like it was for everyone else," or "working your fingers to the bone for a lazy dreamer, that's what life is...what else can I expect from my brother's son, a man who leaves his family, disappears, wanders off God knows where, is lost out there."  She's a completely charmless woman, Aunt Flora.  Even more dour at the priests who hound him for his wayward thinking, at the same time laying on guilt even thicker than Aunt Flora. 

Marco decides it's time to take his boat and Caterina to find his father.  It's not a particularly good idea since it's only a tiny boat, hardly capable of making out of Venice, let alone to somewhere beyond imagination.  Bad weather forces him back after just a night, and wouldn't you know, it's that VERY night that Marco's father and uncle return to Venice.  Uncle Matteo (Tony Vogel) and Papa Niccolo (Denholm Elliott) look more Asian than European when first seen, a tribute to the time spent abroad.  "I'm not one for writing letters," Niccolo tells Marco when the latter says that Mama Polo never stopped hoping for word from him. 

More than a little mysterious and unspecific about their travels Uncle Matteo and Papa Niccolo do show the family some gems they have smuggled back, but they did not return with a fortune.  Kublai Khan has seen to that.  He's kept it as assurance that they will return.  "You see, Marco," Niccolo says, "we're not exactly as we seem.  We left as merchants, but we've returned as ambassadors from the great Khan to the Doge of Venice."

That's a cue line if ever I've heard one.

In 1271, Niccolo and Matteo go to visit The Doge (John Gielgud, who else?) and the Patriarch of Aquileia (John Houseman, who else?).  "The days of Genghis Khan are long over, except it seems, in the imagination of Europe.  His successor, Kublai, is a man of peace, cultured and tolerant," Niccolo says, speaking of Kublai's desires for trade.  The Patriarch is deeply suspicious.  "Everyone knows that these mongrels are a race of bloodthirsty savages," he notes, but Niccolo doesn't let up, saying, "yet it was only when we reached 'civilization' that we were robbed."  That point is clear!  They present the Doge with a gold ticket, Kublai Khan's get-out-of-my-kingdom-with-your-life treat.  The Patriarch refuses to believe that trade on a scale the Polo brothers describe is possible, and that all of the non-Christians they have met have poisoned their minds.  They try to remind the Patriarch that the Mongol Empire is at least 10 times larger than Europe, with the underlying threat that if Venice disagrees with Kublai Khan, it could be disastrous.

Luckily, The Doge is a bit more realistic.  He's willing to trade, though he isn't sure how it could be done.  The Polos show him "paper money," a concept Europe had not yet grasped, and assure him (and the puffing Patriarch) that there is more than enough in the way of gold and jewels to back it up.  Unfortunately, Europe is in the so-called "Dark Ages" for reason, and one of the town father's holds a gold coin up to a candle, saying it is indestructible, followed by a piece of Mongol paper money, which goes up in flames.  "You have just burned the equivalent of 20 pounds of silver," Niccolo says dryly.  The Patriarch returns to the topic of religion.  Niccolo assures him that Kublai Khan is interested in all religions ("the sign of a true barbarian," the Patriarch sniffs) and asks The Pope to send 100 of the most learned men to him so they can make an argument for Christianity.  There are two problems with that, according to the Patriarch.  The first is that it sounds like a denigration to Christianity, according to the grumpy Patriarch and, oh yeah, there is no Pope.  There hasn't been one for three years because the Cardinals can't agree on anyone.

The Polos get a chance with The Doge alone.  He is more than willing to entertain a peace with Kublai Khan if it means great wealth for Venice.  "Return to your Khan and tell him that Venice is willing to shake the hand she extends to us," The Doge finally tells them, no matter what the Patriarch says.  He has to do what is best for Venice and not wait for a Pope to be elected.  Niccolo is a bit worried about Kublai Khan's reaction when they return without 100 men from Rome, but The Doge insists they go, eager to start trading, because there is no sign a Papal election will come any time soon.

Off go the Polo brothers, getting together a crew that includes Jacopo (F. Murray Abraham), but not Marco, who argues with his father until the latter is exhausted by fighting.  Uncle Matteo isn't much help, and Marco reminds them of their words that Venetians are born travelers (even in that one letter he has memorized).  Just as Niccolo is about to say yes, Aunt Flora interrupts to tell him that Caterina's father shows up to pressure the Polos.  He's convinced that Marco and Caterina had sex that one night at sea, so now she's "ruined."  It all comes down to money.  He takes money, but only for now.  "If it were me, I'd have his guts on a plate," the father says, but he gives them three days to come up with a more satisfactory amount.  Papa Niccolo refuses to let Marco marry the girl, since she's the daughter of a whore, so there is only way out of it: let Marco travel with them.  "Only as far as Acre," Niccolo says, but we know something will cause that to change.

Marco has one last conversation with Caterina.  He tries to convince her to join him, but she can't go.  She gets long winded, as usual, but has to stay, in order to marry a man of position in Venice as her parents have decided. 

With Caterina out of the way, off the Polos go on what will surely be the adventure of Marco's lifetime.  The first stop is indeed Palestine.  "Will we get to see the Crusaders?" Marco wants to know, like an eager child at the zoo.  This is really where the miniseries really starts.  In Acre, the Polos visit the Papal Legate (Burt Lancaster, not so who else?).  We have a repeat of The Doge and The Patriarch, arguing over whether they need to open up trade with those further east for religious or financial purposes?  The Papal Legate is more reasonable, hoping that the Italians had seen the lights (which they didn't) and that Kublai Khan is worthy of "friendly relations."  After all, there is the famous "Pax Mongolia," Kublai Khan's pan-religious tolerance and the chance for the Christians to stretch around the world. 

There's another reason for the stop in Palestine.  They need the Papal Legate's help to get some oil from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which is under Muslim control, as per Kublai Khan's wishes.  It's the Papal Legate who insists Marco continue on the journey, giving the elder Polos one hell of a guilt trip that they can't refuse.  Given letters of safe conduct to Jerusalem, Marco sees his first Bedouins...and sees them harassed and slaughtered by Crusaders for no actual reason.  The miniseries manages to take both points of view so as not to offend anyone.  Uncle Matteo makes a lofty speech about the dedication of the Crusaders, but Marco keeps insisting the Bedouins were not warriors.  "If you want to survive in this world, you can't go around make rash judgements," Uncle Matteo says, before pointing out they are sitting in the Garden of Gethsemane.  That's awfully convenient!  I guess we know which side of the argument the creators actually picked, without having to say so.

At the church, the priest is awfully cranky about giving away any of the scarce oil, despite the Legate's orders, but a few coins change that.  "That's their right.  They need the money," Niccolo rationalizes.  Forgive the miniseries for going a bit daffy as Marco suddenly has an insane desire to be all hoity-toity religious, with the lighting on his face making him look like the Christ himself. 

Unfortunately, their journey on is delayed AGAIN because the Legate summons them back to Acre with some news.  He has been chosen Pope, "unworthy as I am," he says like a Jewish mother, arms outstretched like a proper Pope.  Haul out the incense, the candles and the bald priests, it's time to make a Pope!  He's now Pope Gregory X and Marco is there to witness it (this is nowhere in his book, as it does not match up historically).  That's forgivable, but Marco's impassioned speech to The Pope about what he's seen so far in Palestine actually resulting in The Pope saying he "has a lot to answer for."  A Christian Pope in the Thirteen Century?  Not likely.

Okay, so the Polos have the oil.  What about those 100 scholars to argue for Christianity at Kublai Khan's court?  The Pope has only two men to send, Brother Nicholas (Tony LoBianco) and Brother William (Hal Buckley).  Hey, maybe Kublai Khan will be having a bad day when they arrive and won't notice 98 missing learned men.  They are given full rights to Christianize anyone encountered in any way possible. 

The Polos wander through the desert, bypassing local wars, but encountering harsh climates and exhausting terrain.  At an oasis, they discover a dead Muslim with leprosy, so they can't drink the water.  Even more shocking is a battlefield they find, with only a few animals alive among hundreds of dead bodies.  At least there is water.  Brothers Nicholas and William start to rebel against the Polos, declaring themselves in charge and questioning the decisions of the experienced travelers.  Only Marco seems immune to the difficulties, taking copious notes in his diary.  There's a curious scene where the elder Polos wonder about Marco.  Niccolo knows nothing about his son (saying "he's so different than me"), but Uncle Matteo says the kid is strong and will be of use.  The travelers are taken to an enemy camp after an ambush.  These are the most unlucky travelers this side of an "Airport" disaster movie.

The leader of the Muslim camp is Ali Ben Youssouf (Ian McShane), who was born Italian but taken as a slave by Muslims until he learned the glory of Allah.  He serves as a mouthpiece for Islam, explaining all that is great about his religion and making note of what is lacking in Christianity.  Rather than killing them, he spares all of their lives because he was once saved by a Christian.  The wrinkle is that he wants them to return to Palestine, and they want to continue going east.  He won't stop them, but he warns them only death awaits them because it's so barren.  It's not because of Kublai Khan, because Ali Ben Youssouf has a prison full of Mongols, which gives him the false idea that the Mongols are conquerable. 

That last thought is not lost on Brother Nicholas, who believes what he's seen and heard, so he and Brother William decide to return to Palestine.  "Cowards!" Niccolo snaps. Even Jacopo, who talks as if he's playing a court jester, thinks going back is the right thing to do, but Niccolo draws his sword and says they are all pressing forward, "even if it means that I have to drag you by the ears or tie you to my saddle."  He puts Marco in charge of guarding the priests so they cannot escape, but Marco falls asleep, leaving a servant to do it, and of course they escape.  Niccolo is awfully angry at his son, but there will be plenty of time for them to hopefully work that out over their long journey.

It's decided the best route is through the Straights of Hormuz.  The first thing they encounter is a funeral, replete with wailing widows because plague has hit the down.  All of the boats are burned, causing Matteo to quip, "well, we won't be going by sea."  One of the servants dies and Marco gets very sick.  The upside of the latter is that "father and son found each other at last," Rustichello narrates, saying further that "Niccolo's love kept Marco alive."  That's a bit much, but luckily we've now moved beyond the father-son issues and can concentrate on the adventure. 

Marco fully recovers in Badakshan, in Afghanistan, which is referred to many times as "paradise."  Here his father teaches him song of the useful languages he will be needing.  One is allowed to laugh as Marco's name is called in the echoing mountains and he doesn't call back "Polo!"  They are forced to cross a very narrow bridge in frigid wind, and awfully hair-raising experience as the animals are dragged through the river's strong current below.  This brings them to the Pamir Range, bleak and full of miles and miles of snow.  The horses now become the problem, "afraid of the evil spirits of the mountains," according to Uncle Matteo, though Niccolo thinks this is nonsense.

The horses are right.  There's a spectacular avalanche at that very moment!  Marco wakes up in a room filled with scary-looking statues, which isn't even the oddest part.  What's with the man who levitates?  He is in a Buddhist lamasery, full of holy men.  It's these men who are responsible for saving Marco's life and he's enchanted by the peace and interesting thoughts to which he's exposed.  The movie certainly goes to great lengths to spotlight Buddhism's teachings of serenity over what catastrophic death-inducing Christianity and Islam we've so far seen.  The monks want him to stay with them and learn Buddhism, but Marco says, "I swore an oath to the Father of my church," and no one argues.  It is his destiny.  He hasn't received treatment this understanding since birth! 

Now they are officially on the Asian steppes, enormous wide open spaces controlled by the Mongols, who almost silently manage to surround them, but Niccolo produces the golden ticket and that is their safe passage.  By 1275, they have finally reached Gansu in Northern China.  That skips a huge amount of the story, but frankly, in Marco Polo's actual writing, this time period isn't particularly special.  He describes every sight and sound he encounters, but none of it is all that thrilling.  They travel under the protection of Bektor Khan (Hessen En), an elderly clan leader. 

Bektor's movable court is full of smiling people who treat the Polo party kindly.  Of course, Jacopo is never very happy, so he doesn't like the local alcohol (fermented mare's milk) and complains, "where is the good wine of Venice?"  He's really starting to become an irritant.  In the camp, Marco is delighted at the music and dance and displays or horsemanship performed, not to mention the giggling women Matteo tells him are Bektor's wives.  The harmony is almost too giddy, such as when the discussion of marriages arises.  Bektor asks Marco how many wives he has, shocked to hear he has none at age 21, when he had five already.  "Here we make sure every mare born is immediately given a rider," Bektor jokes, with the whole camp laughing along.  With waves of guffaws circling the gang, a wrestling match is put on for Marco's entertainment.  Bektor's son bests two wrestlers and then a very drunk Marco jumps into the fray, proving to be a worthy opponent. 

Caidu Khan (Shaokang Yu), Kublai's nephew, arrives to pick new horses, having a conversation with Marco about the worthiness of horses.  Marco has learned a great deal and is able to speak intelligently on the subject.  Caidu tests Marco's sense of fear (which Marco passes) and then goes into a rambling speech about how the Mongols should never be city-dwellers as Kublai Khan has become. 

By the summer of 1275, the Polos have reached the legendary Shang-Du, Kublai Khan's breathtaking summer retreat, the most spectacular city yet encountered (not that they have seen too many since Palestine, to be fair).  Marco learns about coal here.  "They'd never believe that in Venice, burning stone?" Marco says.  After bathing, it's time for their audience with the Mongol leader.

There is a rule for everything when it comes to being in Kublai Khan's presence, but luckily the elder Polos know them all and are welcomed back warmly by Kublai himself (Ruocheng Ying).  Kublai wants to know where the 100 learned men are, and is offended when Niccolo refers to the Pope as Kublai's "brother."  "Yours is the only religion that has turned an instrument of death into an object of beauty and a symbol of power," Kublai says as he regards the gift of a jewel-encrusted cross.  He is most excited to receive the oil from Jerusalem.  Kublai is thrilled that the Polos have returned as promised and he doubles all of their personal holdings, which have been kept in safekeeping for them.

Kublai sends Marco off with the oil to Empress Chabi (Beulah Quo) since Marco has been the one to carry it the entire way.  Marco explains that the oil has the power to heal for believers, and Empress Chabi seems awfully up on all things Christian.  She knows of the "palaces of gold" in Rome.  Marco, who has never been there, tells what he has heard of it, and Empress Chabi eats them up.  "Nothing in China can be compared with it, I'm sure," the Empress says, her eyes aglow in wonder, though Marco wisely says that the two places are very different and cannot be compared. 

The dancing and beauty of Bektor's movable court are nothing compared to what Marco sees in Shang-Du.  Sumptuous gowns, food beyond imagination and dancing girls all over the place.  Marco is astonished to see that the Chinese have printing presses (yet unknown in Europe) and the plethora of books, noting that everyone can learn in China, whereas in Venice, only the wealthy can do so.  However, Marco is also told by Prince Chinkin (Junichi Ishida) that all is not perfect in the Khan's dominions, as war is about to break out with the Song Dynasty in Southern China.  But, war is far off, so Kublai Khan puts on an astounding production number for the visitors that ends in a cascade of fireworks. 

"Anything that's new fascinates me," Marco says, more of a goon all the time, when shown a clock by Kublai Khan.  Furthermore, based on what he sees of Marco and what the Empress says, Kublai learns to rely on him, even granting him permission to sit or stand in his presence.  The sense of adventure comes to a screeching halt when Marco tells Kublai Khan what he's interested in: farming, caring for the elderly, asbestos, wild sheep and on and on.  Laying in on thick, aren't we?  Within about 18 seconds, Kublai Khan is so impressed by Marco's notes that he decides to reorganize his empire to some degree.  "The world may be conquered on horseback, but cannot be ruled from it," Kublai Khan decrees.  He then dispatches Marco to Phags-Pa (James Hong), the keeper of the information, who is no fan of the Westerners, and one of those villains who all but tugs at his beard with dripping nastiness (only because he doesn't have a beard).  Phags-Pa hates that Marco has dazzled the royal family and become a favorite.

At times, the dialogue sounds as if it were written by the UN.  When Marco tries to use a Mongol bow and arrow, he finds his strength no match for the special bow.  He asks his servant to show him, but the servant is aghast.  He's not allowed "because I am Chinese."  "And I am Venetian, what's the difference?" Marco says.  We all have to learn from each other, and so on and so forth.  To be fair, Marco Polo's writings allow for an astonishing amount of racial tolerance, especially for the Thirteenth Century (although, to be historically accurate, if he really did keep the diary he claims, it was always subject to the eyes of the Mongol court, so he no doubt went overboard in that era's version of political correctness), but he's never as sappy as the miniseries Marco.  Trotting out the words "peace" and "brotherhood" are way idealized, as is Marco's command to his servant to call him by his first name.

However, do not fear the saccharine too much, because there are always gloomy Niccolo and Matteo Polo to cut at Marco's happiness.  They chastise him for being "too familiar" with the royal family and to watch out for men like Phags-Pa.  Of course, in the same breath, they also say that they don't mind him being so chummy if it can help them personally.  "We have too much at stake," Niccolo notes as a final warning to Marco to tread lightly.   

During a hunting excursion with Prince Chinkin, the prince has an epileptic seizure, scaring off the servants, but Marco saves his life.  Kublai Khan explains to Marco that anyone who "witnesses these attacks must be put to death" because if word got out that the heir to the Mongol empire has a sickness, it would be devastating.  Kublai assumes that Marco is now appalled by Chinkin's ailment, giving Marco the chance to pontificate about both his deep friendship for Chinkin (his only other friend in the world died on the trip) and the fact that "the falling sickness" is a condition shared by many great men, Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar among them.  "It didn't affect anything else in their lives," he chirps, which assuages Kublai Khan somewhat because even he's heard of their great exploits.  "In ancient times, it was considered a sign of greatness," Marco says, with violins playing underneath him.  "My son has the sign of greatness," Kublai Khan rhapsodizes, bestowing some extra honors on Marco for changing his mind in the span on a few minutes.  Great, now not only is the UN represented, but apparently also the AMA.  The only thing missing is a visit from Gandhi. 

Oh, Kublai Khan also gives him his belt since Marco had to use his to save the Prince's life.  Of course he does.

Phags-Pa spits nails at all of this attention lavished on Marco Polo, and he also feels Chinkin is "weak" and will never be able to lead the empire. 

Chinkin and Marco Polo head the entourage leaving the summer palace as Niccolo and Matteo watch proudly.  I would like to pause here to ask a question.  Had plastic been invented yet?  No?  I didn't think so.  How, then, can one explain the plastic window on the tents behind these two as they see their spawn go off in glory?  There is no mistaking the plastic.  It even reflects. 

Marco gets a tour of the Great Wall.  "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it," he says, still a sponge for knowledge, but a sponge you want to kick and shut up every now and then.  Prince Chinkin explains that it was built by the Chinese to keep out "the barbarians."  "The barbarians?" Marco asks, not bright enough to be a suck up, but that's the way Prince Chinkin takes it.  "Yes, the barbarians.  The Mongols...it's only a relic now," Chinkin replies, confident in his empire's complete domination.  Prince Chinkin gets in on the sympathy talking by telling Marco that the Chinese Emperor did not build the wall, but rather slaves who died by the thousands.  Their blood is in the stones.  If only Mao had been alive to hear that schpiel, he would have screened this movie about six thousand times a week all over China. 

"The only hope for the future is that one day we Mongols will no longer be thought of or think of ourselves as conquerors or proud invaders of a foreign land, but as sons of the same mother, China," Prince Chinkin says after promising Marco that when he is in charge of the empire, there will be some changes made (this is prompted by news of the execution of Marco's slave, who had seen the epileptic fit).  The only warm fuzzy we haven't heard yet is Coke's "I want to teach the world to sing..." ditty.  Can we PLEASE get back to the story and end all of this babble? 

The court returns to Khanbalic (modern-day Beijing) after the summer sojourn.  This permanent city is overflowing in majesty and teeming with loyal soldiers and courtiers.  Kublai Khan is welcome back by the regent Achmet (Leonard Nimoy, in the most egregious piece of casting by idiocy...what, there aren't any worthy Asian actors, so we had to use a Vulcan?).  Achmet has great news for Kublai Khan, bootlicker that he is, telling him that the Emperor of China has fled and Kublai Khan now rules all of China.  Achmet is the business mind of the empire, excited to hear of the Polos' contacts between Europe and Asia that will be beneficial to all.  He is also the first to mention that we have now embarked upon the Yuan Dynasty. 

Yet Marco is restless.  He whines to Chinkin that "my father and uncle are busy with projects," mapping routes between Venice and Khanbalic, but Chinkin assures Marco that "my father has plans for you too," which cheers Marco up a bit.  Like two naughty children, they leave the confines of the palace city because Marco is desperate to see what is out there.  Someone call the Chinese Board of Tourism, they are getting one hell of a plug, even centuries too late.  They go to the sanctuary of the astronomers to ask what the future has in store, if the Yuan Dynasty will have any peace.  The answer, only a tad clearer than The Oracle at Delphi, is basically no, though Marco doesn't understand and Chinkin doesn't want to hear the real truth. 

Non-traditional medical practitioners will be happy with Chinkin showing Marco the healing powers of acupuncture.  The local peasant children laugh a little at Marco, but no one else seems at all perplexed by his presence.  Chinkin and Marco observe a wedding ceremony.  This all may seem highly episodic, but Marco Polo's writings are like that.  He did love to report even the smallest details. 

With China all his, Kublai Khan shifts his attention to an invasion of Japan, which he's tried before without success. He amasses all of his most important vassals from all over the empire to discuss the matter and figure out the best method of invasion.  The Mongols, they point out, are horseback warriors and cannot handle an amphibious invasion.  But, Kublai Khan says the final decision is his.  Furthermore, a lot of the desert men, many of whom Marco has previously met, feel he's become too Chinese and lost touch with his Mongol roots.  Try not to laugh when, during a dinner with some of these guys, the Polos and Jacopo are introduced to pasta and how to eat it.  We all know pasta is a Chinese invention, but the scene is bad comedy. 

Marco decides he wants to learn about Japan (or, rather, the miniseries decides it needs to teach us), and he goes to a blind Japanese potter the Empress freed after the last attempt at war.  His memories of Japan are long winded and gloomy, but he's not wrong when he says no foreign empire will ever conquer it.  "The flags of Kublai will be swallowed by Japanese waves," he tells Marco as a warning.  "There is no more discussion," Kublai roars since the envoys he has sent to Japan have been beheaded.  Marco and Chinkin try the astrology route, but that only makes Kublai Khan angrier.  "Our answers to Japan is WAR! WAR! WAR!" he thunders in increasing close-up. 

Because Marco is seen as having too strong an influence of Chinkin, who loudly argues against the Japanese invasion, Achmet sends him to the South as a tax collector with Uncle Matteo.  "Use your natural gift, but avoid your excessive zeal," Achmet tells him, a polite way of saying "stop interfering!"  He also gives Marco two pieces of advice: "the empire's treasury is low" and "be careful" of almost everyone.  He's suddenly Polonius, apparently.  Uncle Matteo is excited for a typical Medieval European reason.  "I've heard they have men who can turn any metal into gold."  Ah, alchemy.  Without the desire to figure it out, there probably would be no Europe today.  A very frail Chinkin is sad to lose his friend, but is also full of idiotic warnings.  His tops them all when he tells Marco to remember everything is like a game of chess and he is a pawn in the game.  "The pawn is always the last to know" what is to happen to him.  Not only is that unoriginal, it's also not necessarily true.  This is the problem with Marco Polo's book and everything that stems from it: it's all about him.  I'm not saying that in a bad way, but his writings are of his journey and all that he knew.  The real Marco Polo merely relied on his own notions, with very little time spent doing anything but observing.  Suddenly, the entire Mongol Empire seems to revolve around him in this story.  With everyone having chimed in, Marco sets off in his new role as tax collector.

Things turn bad very quickly when unseen men shoot at Marco's polo with arrows, killing a few extras.  Marco gets into hand-to-hand combat with one of them after playing possum.  This is actually fun, a scene of daring and excitement after so much time spent at court.  Marco is best when traveling (and so is the movie). 

Marco arrives in Yanzhou in 1280, with the whole city already up on the assassination attempt. The town leaders blame it on "bandits," though they themselves seem less than thrilled to be under Mongol control in general.  Our bleeding heart hero is shocked to see the wealthiest people sucking harsh taxes from bedraggled peasants.  However, he also has time to enjoy local culture, discover new things and even take in a play.  The latter starts out charmingly, but turns into a diatribe against tax collection aimed squarely at Marco.  When Marco asks the man who spoke the lines why he did it, he blames someone else.  "I am only an actor," he says, blaming a hermit playwright.  How's that for continuity?  In the Twenty First Century, actors are still doing that. 

New friends take Marco to see "The Immortal," (Tad Horino) an aesthetic who lives in a cave high in the mountains.  No sooner does Marco arrives than the man starts spouting the sort of wise-though-confusing sentiments one would expect.  "Man must conquer himself before he can conquer nature," he opines, having just mentioned gold to keep everyone interested.  He then gives Marco a brief yoga lesson and cleansing diet tips.  I won't deny it's an eerie scene, very much in line with the 1970s fascination with yoga culture, though out of step with the rest of the movie.

One thing that has certainly been missing from the narrative is sex.  Hell, the only woman with lines since Venice has been Kublai Khan's wife.  Marco is in his twenties and has to be horny!  When Uncle Matteo disappears, a lovely woman named Monica (Kathryn Dowling) offers to help.  She never knew her father, and her mother died when she was young.  This tale of woe, and the fact that she's at least part European, stirs Marco's libido and he kisses her.  A chaste kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.  Her reaction?  "We should look for your uncle," she says, but with a smile.

It's not until Marco and Monica are trapped in a cave during a thunderstorm that Marco professes love for her...loudly.  She doesn't make the inevitable very easy.  He's ready, but she takes the time to point out, "your body is like a tree," while pointing to the corresponding parts "trunk, limbs are like branches and the crown, it catches the light and holds it."  Marco has some clunkers of his own.  He tells her, "in Venice, when someone shivers, we say an angel passes."  Save it for a couples retreat, you two!  They kiss and find lots of flowery ways to proclaim their love, but if they go any further, this floppo scene doesn't show us.

Uncle Matteo is found, but the three return to the city during a massive fire.  Useful for the first time, Jacopo is helping women and children escape the flames, but he is injured.  The town's big shots have orchestrated it all, basically to pluck young women for slavery.  Marco is outraged.  "You'll answer to the Khan for your loyalty...or treachery," he says heatedly. 

Marco knows it's time to get back to the Mongol court, but there's a hitch, of course.  Jacopo, seriously burned and disfigured, does not want to go home, not even to Venice.  Somehow, this movie's misfit has found home.  He likes the people and "they treat me with affection," he tells Marco.  I won't miss him, how about everyone else?

Back to Khanbalic.  His first stop is at the Japanese potter's home, where he learns that indeed the Mongols did attack Japan.  He leaves Monica there for safety and then goes to Achmet to find the girl stolen for slavery.  He doesn't find much sympathy.  Achmet refers to a typical woman as "just another mouth to feed."  Achmet agrees to sort of help, but tells Marco that it may be tough since Marco has so many enemies.  To make matter worse, Monica is kidnapped, but he doesn't know by whom.  "I heard of him speak of a convent of Buddhist nuns," is all the potter can tell him.  Then we discover Achmet to be a louse, since he finds the girl everyone is looking for and decides to use her himself.  "Will you touch me?" he asks her, with a dastardly leer.  Luckily, he gets his quickly, a victim of court intrigue.  Phags-pa is behind it and it all ends up with the slave girl dead and Monica and her adopted family executed. 

Phags-pa has his reasons for doing what he does, and turns out to be less hateful than once assumed.  He has Monica's sentence commuted to banishment and allows Marco to get a quick look at her one last time.

Kublai Khan is beset by troubles.  There are rebellions all over the place, religious questions to be dealt with and then the death of Prince Chinkin.  Marco tells Empress Chabi that he thinks Kublai Khan seems "too tired to hold the empire in his hands.:  Though nobody agrees with him, Kublai Khan decides to snuff out the rebellion, leading the army himself. 

There is an epic battle.  It's bloody and results in huge carnage and screaming.  Naturally Kublai Khan's army is victorious.  The trampling death of the rebel leader is particularly gruesome, but, "according to our laws," Kublai Khan says before it happens.

The Polos want to go home, but Kublai Khan will not hear of it.  They are too valuable to him and, as he points out, they have certain grown rich from him!  No one is as wise as them when it comes to gems, and Kublai Khan uses them to tell the real ones from the fakes, even giving them punitive power over anyone caught using the fakes.  But none of it is enough.  Niccolo wants to go back to Venice, "before I lose my will to live." 

Their ticket home comes from an unlikely source: Phags-pa, who seems mellow and almost nice.  "We could have been friends," he says wistfully to Marco now that there are no intrigues between them.  Phags-pa has convinced Kublai Khan to let the Polo escort a princess to Persia on a sea route.  They are the only men who can handle such a task.  Phags-pa himself is going to a monastery to leave the clutches of power behind.  He'll do well there, because he has the advice-giving-in-snippets down pat. 

Marco's parting from Kublai Khan is even more touching.  You expect the great and mighty warrior to hold onto Marco's leg begging him not to go with buckets of tears.  It doesn't happen that way, but almost.  Kublai Khan admits that he should have never tried to rule on anything but a horse's back, "but now I'm too old to climb into the saddle."  The Great Khan takes Marco's hand and reminds him that "when a Mongol takes your hand, some of his spirit passes over to you." 

The voyage home, a highlight of Marco Polo's story, is skipped entirely and we go right to 1299, back to Marco languishing in the Genoa prison.  I'll spare you the trial, because it contains no new information.  What is interesting about it is that it happened in the first place.  What we so prize about Marco Polo today, the travelogue that allows us to see new and different works with a fresh excited eye, is just what was condemning him at the time.  The Church did not approve of anything it did not understand, could not conceive of anything it did not help invent.