‘TOGETHER BY CHRISTMAS’ BY KAREN SWAN

 

The thing I like most about prolific Karen Swan is her ability to write intriguing protagonists in different settings. Take her latest heroine, Lee, in the captivating TOGETHER BY CHRISTMAS by Pan McMillan. She is a Pulitzer prize-winning war correspondent photographer now living in Amsterdam with her son Jasper. I’ve never visited Amsterdam. Now it’s as if I’m there. Five years have gone by since Lee’s grueling assignment in ravaged Syria (haven’t been there either but I think I’ll pass) which gave her PTSD, though she does her best to hide it. Besides taking care of her kid, preparing for her latest showing of her sought-after pictures and sleeping with some of her male subjects when she happens to shoot them for a popular magazine, nothing really sets her motor going, until she finds a book in the basket of her bicycle with a note inside that will eventually change the course of her life.

I actually managed to read this wonderful novel despite being in the middle of a move. All my books are already packed, so hurray for my Kindle and Karen Swan. I love how the story just grabs you and stays intriguing all the way through. I really connected with the heroine and I so wanted her to succeed despite her hardships. I admit I’ve never been too keen on political issues but I did find the topic rewarding in this case. Writing about Syria and everything around it made sense for the protagonist to be pushed on a brick of a nervous breakdown, if I can call it that. But luckily she does find the strength to pull through. I hope I did not spoil things too much but it really is just a smidge of what this novel is about. You’ll be too caught up in the plot to care anyway. 

I’m so glad to be back on the Karen Swan wagon after missing a couple of her recent books from her impressive backlist but I plan to pick them up as soon as we get settled in. In the meantime I think I’ll re-read this one. So go on, get yourself a copy of TOGETHER BY CHRISTMAS and see what an impressive Holiday read this turns out to be. And don’t get fooled by the light-hearted look of the cover. The story definitely goes deeper than meets the eye.

 

My thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for this ARC.

 

Until next post—Martin 

 

 

 

‘POSSESSIONS’ BY JUDITH MICHAEL

OK, first things first: you must know by now that author Judith Michael is actually a pen name for a married couple who have written 11 best-sellers so far. Yep, they are Judith Barnard and Michael Fain. I have no idea of their whereabouts except for the fact that Miss Barnard has written other efforts, most recently CROOKED BRANCHES ON THE FAMILY TREE published by Mill City Press in 2015. Are they still together? Who knows? But if they ever are I doubt that they’ll produce a 12th effort. It’s been too much of a long time for it to happen. And besides, readers nowadays are much more fickle. They probably don’t even remember that, along with the other two Judiths, Krantz and Gould, Judith Michael was hot stuff in the ‘80s and beyond, just before the new Millennium. 

I too wanted to embark on the Judith Michael bandwagon, especially after seeing the sensational miniseries DECEPTIONS on NBC starring Stefanie Powers in 1985. I remember getting a hold of the novel on which it is based not long after and attempting to read it. I say attempting because it took me a few tries before finally finishing it. The reason mostly was the deception (pun intended) I felt that it didn't read like a Jackie Collins novel. It was too vanilla, in my opinion, too Harlequin-like. I had to adjust my expectations to enjoy it, and I did, to a certain degree. 

The same could be said regarding her second novel POSSESSIONS (1982, Pocket) which I finished a couple of days ago. Clearly Judith Michael is scarcely my cup of tea. The whole premise of a young mother of two who gets dumped by her indebted husband then turns her life around by making a name for herself in the jewelry business and gets involved with another member (two, actually) of her husband’s family is OK in itself but compared to other trashy novels this one is in general as unexciting and as predictable as, well, a Harlequin romance novel.  

Don’t get me wrong, all the elements are there: a likeable heroine, a debonair hero, luscious settings and a jet-setting lifestyle worthy of any glitzy novel, but the overall delivery just doesn’t cut it as it should. Barely do you end up getting involved with these characters or the cookie-cutter plot. And that’s where it pains me, for Judith Michael is a solid storyteller. Her narrative is strong without being too descriptive, and the flow of the story does do justice to the overall theme (independence). But as a whole, POSSESSIONS possesses (pun intended again) nothing more than an unsophisticated streak which in the end hurts the story. 

But since it’s a ‘80s book–set mostly in San Francisco—and we all know how soapy those years can be, we can easily forgive Miss Michael for having executed a subpar effort or, more importantly, for having included a sole gay San Franciscan character who is a billboard of clichés. For despite this being less than stellar it is still far better written than some other fluffy efforts published during that same time. I won’t name them or reveal the publishing houses from which they mostly come from but I will say this: it takes a lot of dedication and drive to write a great ‘80s novel. Take it from me, an expert in the genre. I have to go through a lot of junk before finding something fruitful, and I’m sorry to say that POSSESSIONS, despite all of its evident efforts to please places itself in the former category.

 

 

Until next post—Martin 

UK PB Edition

 

MEA CULPA JEANNE DAY LORD’S ‘A BREED APART’

 

 

With all the unread books gathering dust in my house you would think I would hurry up and pick up anything unvisited and review it here for you guys to enjoy. Not so it seems. Color me persistent but I just had to give A BREED APART by Jeanne Day Lord (Robert Rosenblum) another shot despite my lukewarm review of it sometime last year. Truth be told, I always felt like I had missed something the first time around, and since I found myself re-reading it last week and enjoying it way much more, it was a no brainer that the main topic of this week’s blog entry should be yet again on that title.   

Let me reinstate that if you’re a horse lover you’ll certainly dig A BREED APART. Considering that I am far from being one, the thought of me enjoying this book even more than before seemed very unlikely and yet I did. The author certainly knows her ABCs of thoroughbred racing and breeding as the plot centers around those traits via a likable heroine named Geri-Jo. Born into poverty, with a drunken widowed father, a jealous sister and a weak-minded younger brother who ends up institutionalized when he accidently sets himself on fire, she flees to New York where she eventually inherits enough money to study and become a top Equine vet. But when murder takes center stage and Geri-Jo is falsely accused of being involved she finds herself not only fighting justice to clear her name—as past mistakes suddenly resurface—but also trying her hardest to keep a love that is meant to be despite the odds. 

What changed my mind regarding this effort is the timing, mostly. With no deadline reviews or work overload in the horizon I was freer to do anything I like. But mainly it was finally accepting the novel for what it is and not for what it was supposed to be. ‘Cause at the end of the day Jeanne Day Lord does manage to sketch a catchy plot, thus making A BREED APART a page-turning experience. On top of that, the author often uses the show don’t tell mantra in her narrative, which heightens even more the overall appreciation. But the icing on the cake is the gay character she introduces along the way. He winds up having a positive influence on the heroine, which as you know is a rare attribute in ’80s novels such as this one. Flawed still (a 100 pages or so could have been easily cut without losing any key element), A BREED APART is nonetheless a joy to read and will likely be to anyone who dares venturing into something different. I’m so glad to have had a change of heart about this one. Just goes to show you that second chances are sometimes fruitful. I wonder if any other lukewarm review of mine is in need of some sprucing up. I hear that MISTRAL’S DAUGHTER by Judith Krantz is way better than I remember it to be. Stay tuned.

 

Until next post—Martin

 

PB US Edition

JOAN COLLINS IN ‘THE BRAVADOS’

Who doesn’t love Joan Collins? A lot of people I imagine. But in the gay community she is adored. Ever since her DYNASTY days she has become a permanent fixture in our lives thanks mostly to her riveting performance of scheming Alexis Carrington. Consequently, I’ve always enjoyed watching her in anything that has her name on it, whether it’s a guest spot on some ill-fated TV show, or a starring role in some TV-movie or miniseries; heck, even a simple TV commercial like that Cinzano one which has become a classic in its hilariousness will do. In our eyes, she always makes everything interesting. So of course when I had the chance to catch her again in the 1958 revenge western film THE BRAVADOS, playing the love interest of Gregory Peck, I immediately thought of ‘blog entry’ since, like I said, we do love our Joan.

So here she is in a western playing against type and I couldn’t be happier. Not exactly true, for she is little seen and the picture should belong to her. What we have instead is a second billing performance of a female Mexican rancher who is the former flame of the star. She is all young but still recognizable with those sultry eyes. Named Josefa, she is the voice of reason for a man who is mind-set on killing the 4^th and last fugitive who he thinks murdered his wife. Not an easy task for her, since he is one heck of a vindictive avenger. Nonetheless she succeeds at it and ends up running off into the sunset with him. Or it is led to believe that she will.

The film reminds me of the Steve McQueen vehicle NEVADA SMITH which is based on the character in THE CARPETBAGGERS by Harold Robbins. This one is from 1966 and has the same revenge theme. Despite both westerns being not exactly my cup of tea I got to say they are still quite fetching in their deliveries. Gregory Peck certainly manages to hold his own and though I’ve never seen him in anything else, I doubt that he is just one trick pony of an actor. As for Joan Collins, well, the lack of chemistry with Peck barely helps matters but looking pretty or having presence does, so there’s that. And besides, if nothing else it got her to do next the funny RALLY ‘ROUND THE FLAG, BOYS in which she plays a sexy married neighbour who has the hots for Paul Newman (who wouldn’t?). If you guys have yet to see this one I suggest you check it out, as you should THE BRAVADOS if only to support our Joan in a tamer role.

I’ve never heard of her talk about this film in interviews. I’m sure it’s mentioned in her autobiography PAST IMPERFECT which I’m ashamed to say I have yet to read. I always feel like I’ve never seen enough films to venture into one’s biography.  At the rate that I’m going right now I should probably scratch that idea. I don’t want to miss the party before my time comes. And we all know how fast time passes by nowadays.

Until next post—Martin

‘THE THUNDER GIRLS’ BY MELANIE BLAKE

Ever since that damn COVID-19 entered my life I hardly had time concentrating on anything else, like this blog of mine, for example, which I have been running for quite some time. I even contemplated giving it up since my free time these days has been mostly spent recuperating in bed instead of enjoying a good book or watching a good flick. But now that I have finally regained some sense of normality by working part time at the hospital again I can happily say that I do intend on continuing with The Sleaze Factor after all. Talking to you guys via my little reviews is too important to me, and quite honestly, I just can’t see myself abandoning this precious ship of mine. So without further ado let’s get right down to business.

Last week I caught the much-appreciated The Go-Go’s documentary. Seeing this girl group again and witnessing their rise and fall through interviews and archives made me realize how important their music was, and still is, in an industry controlled mostly by men. THE THUNDER GIRLS (2019, Pan) by Melanie Blake reminds me of The Go-Go’s, four talented women who make it big and lose it all when one of them decides to go solo during the heights of their success in the late ‘80s. It’s easy to imagine the hurt, the jealousy, the betrayal that the rest of the women felt and still do in 2019 when they are asked to regroup for a once in a lifetime performance at the Wembley Stadium. They may be now older but, boy, far are they from being wiser—that is until they are forced to put the past behind when trouble comes a-knocking.

I really enjoyed THE THUNDER GIRLS. It is well-paced and has a fair amount of characterization in between the bitchery. And trust me, there is a lot of bitchery, enough to fill—pun intended—an entire stadium. Secrets, lies, revenge, obsession, there are no dull moments in this first time effort. First time by the Melanie Blake name, that is. The author has previously ghost-written two celeb fiction titles which shall remain nameless to protect the guilty ones. This may probably be the reason why THE THUNDER GIRLS barely feels like a first novel. Blake always keeps a tight rein on her clear-lined plot, and once the reader hits the mid-section mark, the roller-coaster ride gets even trickier. I can’t say I was always surprised by the many revelations but I sure was intrigued by their swift and girl-powered denouements. Yes, THE THUNDER GIRLS is certainly worth the stops. It’s definitely up there with the strongest of the glam-fiction novels. If you love this endangered sub-genre as much as I do (which hopefully the success of this book will revive), then dig in, my friends, just dig in.

You can get a copy of THE THUNDER GIRLS wherever books are sold.

Until next post—Martin 

‘MIAMI’ BY PAT BOOTH

Every year around this time my husband and I like to go south. Just to get away from it all. Sun, surf, sand, and a little book shopping in between. Hoping for a glorious time, you know? So imagine our deception this year being unable to travel due to that shitty COVID-19 pandemic. It’s probably the reason why I recently picked up MIAMI (1991, Crown) by the late Pat Booth. If nothing else, the book will at least make me feel like I am back in the city.

MIAMI is all about former supermodel Christa Kenwood who owns a modeling agency. She wants to make it big, and eventually does, when she gets to steal sociopathic model du jour Lisa Rodriguez from Johnny Rosetti, her competitor. Of course this does not bode well for Mr. Rosetti and soon enough, revenge is in the works. Add a lover interest for our heroine in the form of a reputed writer, a rich queen bee who can’t keep it in her pants, a religious hunk who’s torn between what’s right and what’s wrong, a gay photographer who stands to win big if he signs with Kenwood—not to mention page after page of descriptive sex scenes—and you get a pretty good idea what’s in store for you.

Overall, I had a pretty good time reading MIAMI. In between Booth’s overblown narrative I found a complete trashy and sexy novel. Patience is the key to this one. Trying to mix sleaze with a literary approach isn’t always easy on the eye but once past that bump, MIAMI does end up doing justice to its title. Hot spots, hot bodies, hot sex. What more can one want? Yes, the end result may not always be on target but at least it is one step above the traditional racy romantic novel. So kudos to Pat Booth for giving me the vacation I desperately needed despite remaining grounded in my hometown.

Until next post—Martin

PB edition

DOLLS! DOLLS! DOLLS! BY STEPHEN REBELLO

If you were to ask me which screen adaptation, big or small, I do fancy best I probably would say TVs LACE. Nothing beats this highly expensive-looking trashy miniseries of 1984. On the other hand, if I had to choose my favorite big-screen adaptation thus far? Only one title comes to mind, VALLEY OF THE DOLLS. Oh yes, this 1967 infamous film starring three unforgettable (not always in a good way) actresses and one mean son of a bitch of a director (according to many witnesses) is right up there with the best of them. Mind you, the best for me are mostly over-the-top campy fares such as THE LONELY LADY, MOMMIE DEAREST, BEYOND THE FOREST. But there’s something about VALLEY OF THE DOLLS that surpasses them all. Call it stylish; call it gripping, call it unintentionally funny. Whatever it is, I just can’t get enough.

That’s why when I learned that BAD MOVIES WE LOVE co-author Stephen Rebello had an upcoming book about the making of VALLEY OF THE DOLLS I just couldn’t stand still. This film has been my guiding light to bad cinema ever since I first saw it back when I was still a kid. It was because of that film that I discovered later on how much involving trashy books really were, and still are since I go on running this blog decades later. In other words I was a really happy trooper. I immediately rushed to the NetGalley site in the hopes that the book would be available to review. It was. I clicked for an ARC and waited for a response. And I waited and waited and waited. After almost a month I gave up. Clearly the publisher, Penguin, was unimpressed by my request. 

Then COVID-19 entered our lives. For two weeks my husband and I were out of it. Suffice to say I didn’t even think about DOLLS! DOLLS! DOLLS! All I wanted was for us to get better. We eventually did. Then I started to see the book on social media. The itch to get a copy got to me again. So here I am post-COVID cured and ready to review this title, which I finally purchased despite having been dissed by Penguin Books (shame on you!).

I finished DOLLS! DOLLS! DOLLS! in no time. It was that good.  Like the focused film, it pulls you right in, starting with a teaser involving a star-studded cruise ship and the ill-prepared screen presentation of VALLEY OF THE DOLLS. Then it’s a quick bio of Jackie Susann which, if you have already read LOVELY ME: THE LIFE OF JACQUELINE SUSANN by Barbara Seaman, won’t be anything new to you. But once we get into the producing and financing of the film then it’s jackpot all the way. What I enjoyed most—though it was hard to pick from all the juicy chapters—was the never-before-seen round-up of the first two screenplays. I have never heard of them before and was pleasantly surprised on how different they were from the finished product, especially the first one written by famed-author and first-time screenwriter for the equally bad THE OSCAR (1967) Harlan Ellison. I really would have loved to see that version on-screen.

Then it’s the behind the scene shenanigans surrounding the many frictions between the stars and the director, and of course the day by day on-set account of what led to the firing of Judy Garland as Helen Lawson. That part is harder to take, especially if you’re a Garland fan. The way she was badly treated was, in my opinion, unforgivable. Then we come to the post production of the film and the many strategies the studio takes to get it seen. You’ll also get a kick out of finally knowing the reason why singer Dionne Warwick’s rendition of The Theme from Valley of the Dolls was omitted from the movie soundtrack album (copyright issue). Just like any common sense was omitted when it came to make and sell this lovable but accidentally silly film. But in the end it did have the last laugh, for we are still talking about it, thanks mostly nowadays to Mr Rebello who wrote one hell of a book. And praise heavens for that, for I wouldn’t be sitting here and rave about DOLLS! DOLLS! DOLLS! So do yourself a favor and get this gem. You’ll definitely thank me later.

Until next post—Martin

‘A WOMAN OF SUBSTANCE’ BY BARBARA TAYLOR BRADFORD

Barbara Taylor Bradford’s iconic first novel A WOMAN OF SUBSTANCE has always been part of my life. At least I always felt like it was. I can’t be exactly sure when I did become aware of it but I’m almost positive it was during part of a conversation I had had with a fellow book lover of mine. If not, well, it must surely have been during one of my many book hunts which, as you can imagine, have happened a lot in my lifetime. One thing I can easily say is that I have had the novel in my possession for quite a while now and only recently did I take the plunge and read it—to my pure delight, as it turns out.

You sure are in for a long haul if you tackle this book for the very first time, since A WOMAN OF SUBSTANCE is more than 900 pages long. That is, if we’re focusing on the same 2005 St. Martins’ paperback extended edition which graciously harbours a place on my busy book shelf, as do the original 1979 paperback novel from Avon Books and the tie-in paperback edition from the same publishers. 

As you judiciously read along you’ll come across many detailed descriptions of beautiful things. Miss Bradford seems to revel in them and I don’t blame her since her depiction of, say, a room, a person, a scenery, is as thrilling and as invigorating as the story itself. Well, at least it is to little moi. And in truth, I can’t imagine the book being any other way. It’s part of its DNA. If exactly not, at least a part of the author’s work ethic.  

When the plot does move along, you are to embark in a story of love, courage, acceptance but betrayal as well, for Emma Harte, the central character, suffers ever-so greatly in her attempt to assert herself in a man’s world. I should also tell you that the story starts in the early 19oos during which she is a simple servant to a wealthy family in Yorkshire, England, to the late-1960s where she finally ends up becoming a rich and powerful woman. During her rags to riches ascent she will face many hardships, some that will almost kill her. But with her strong sense of will and backbone (and style) she will find a way to persevere and eventually get to the finish line. And during that time you, the reader, will be turning the pages as quickly as possible in order to follow her tumultuous journey, one that will undoubtedly leave traces in your psyche since you’ll remember this flawed heroine for a very long time.  

I’m so thrilled to have finally focused on A WOMAN OF SUBSTANCE. And there are many sequels waiting for me along the way. Six of them, I believe. I can’t wait to get my hands on every one of them then watch on my flat screen TV the three adapted miniseries based on the first three books. I mean it, this one’s a keeper. Especially, if you’re the type who adores long-winded stories of strong-willed women and the challenges they face for being who they were really meant to be. 

Until next post—Martin

US Digital Edition

UK Digital Edition

SINS, THE MINISERIES

When we prematurely had to return home from Paris because of the COVID-19 growing epidemic, my hubby and I had to self-isolate for 14 days. So suffice to say, we watched a lot of TV during that time. One of the titles we caught was the spectacular miniseries SINS based on the 1982 novel by Judith Gould and starring Joan Collins. I talked about this adaptation before in another post, so for me it was a re-visiting thing. It wasn’t for my husband, but since he had enjoyed Joan before in DYNASTY I felt that showing him this one would certainly be a slam dunk. Not so much, as it turned out.  

Basically, what he disliked most about SINS was exactly the same reason why I love it so: the over-the-topness of it all. Love, glamour, revenge...  And Dame Joan Collins to boost. Not one iota of film reel is wasted on this seven-hour miniseries. I even watched it twice that faithful day, since my hubby retired to bed early. I just popped in the disc again and voila, I was back with Hélène Junot in Paris during the Second World War.   

I don’t really need to recap the plot but if I had to I would say that SINS is all about Miss Collins and her insane changing wardrobe. Actress Catherine Mary Stewart may portray a young Joan in flashbacks but it’s Collins who really steals the show with her gowns, suits and dresses (85 of them in total), all led by costume designer Michael Fresmay. Many were sketched by Valentino himself.

As much of a sight for sore eyes she ends up being I must confess that it barely compensates for her limited acting ability. Whether in this miniseries or other highly-sought visual avenues, I usually find that Miss Collins is all looks but little substance. Oh, don’t get me wrong, she does have this star power about her that makes her must-see TV and her icon status is rightfully deserved, but an impressive thespian she is not. But in the end does it really matter when one stars in silly but highly-addictive miniseries such as this one?  

In fact, seeing her in action in SINS is almost as rewarding as catching her in DYNASTY. It’s probably the reason why the miniseries was such a smash to begin with when it aired in 1986. It was clear that Collins swam in known territory. And since she was already being held as the queen of night time television, well, you do the math. When she made another miniseries, MONTE CARLO, later in the same year, however—as DYNASTY began to slip in the ratings—it barely made the same waves when it aired and she never ventured into another miniseries after that. 

A bummer, really, for I certainly find miniseries like SINS to be quite joyful despite their imperfectness. Truth be told, they probably work as a security blanket from reality. And I’m more than OK with that. With all the shit that is going on nowadays what better way to cocoon yourself with than watching an over-produced, over-written, overact piece of fluff that delivers exactly what it sets out to do: entertain the heck out of you. 

Until next post—Martin

‘SCRUPLES’, INTERRUPTED

I got upset the other day over something people would certainly call trivial. The cover of my precious SCRUPLES tore itself off almost completely from its spine during one of my re-readings. I’m afraid to open the novel now. It’s the 1978 mass market paperback Warner Books edition, the one with the inside front cover featuring the blurbs; and on the inside back cover, the full-colored image of the author. You can say I’m all inconsolable about this. I’ve always tried taking good care of the novel, never bending it too much, always using a book cover to keep it neat and clean. But I guess time rendered it fragile and in the end it just gave up. I would gladly show it to you but I’m afraid it will tear off completely if I scan it. So here’s a scan of a beat up paperback Spanish edition of SCRUPLES instead. Sure, I could always use Scotch Tape to strengthen the cover but it’s not the same as it being undamaged, is it? 

So the next best thing is to find myself another mint copy. Easier said than done, I quickly realized. With the disappearance of local used book stores and the hard-to-find tag attached to the book it is almost impossible to find it unless I pay big bucks online which I refuse to do. I did pick up a copy recently but without the inside back cover and author photo. It is not the same, I agree, but it is far better than owning nothing. That is until I get my hands on a real replacement.  

Then again, maybe I won’t. Maybe it’s the book’s way of telling me that we must part, it and I, for I did blast it a little while ago, mainly for its homophobic content which I more or less retracted later on in another post. Nonetheless karma did find a way to reach me. Still, I refuse to give any credence to that. I adore SCRUPLES too much despite its obvious flaws. So I’ll hold on to my hopes of being reacquainted with it. When will that be exactly? I have no clue yet. But mark my words, it will happen, or my middle name isn’t trash guru after all.

Until next post—Martin 

  

LACE II, THE MINISERIES, REVISITED

Having seen the miniseries LACE numerous of times since its original airing in 1984 on ABC I decided not too long ago to re-watch its sequel which aired a year or so later on the same network and towards which I was not that kind on this blog in 2013. But like I always say, only crazy people don’t change their minds—and I should know, for I’ve been working in that environment for 32-some years (buy me a drink and I’ll tell you all about it). So I am proud to say that I am now a fervent LACE II fan. Why the change of heart? Simple. They just don’t make them like that anymore. In fact, they have stopped making them like that decades ago. But when they did, rare were they as grand as this one. 

As in the original, the production team went all out for LACE II. No expense was spared. Thailand, UK, Spain, France, US. You just couldn’t get enough of these beautiful locations. And the plot. Let’s talk about the plot. Yes, I concur, it wasn’t as captivating as the original LACE but it did end up having its own merits, lots of them I might add—particularly in the way director William Hale and screenwriter Elliot Baker delivered the goods. Their overall modus operandi reminded us enough of the original LACE while also adding another layer of originality to an already intriguing story. Indeed, who hadn’t wanted to know the identity of Lili’s father? I certainly did, and I guess the producers thought so as well. So my hat is off to them for trying yet again to mix sins and glamour to a highly attractive cast of characters and aim for ratings gold. 

But as we all know by now (especially those of you who have read my former post on this much-publicized sequel) LACE II wasn’t a big ratings success as LACE had been. It received only half the audience of its predecessor. We could blame this on a lot of things: a less punchy premise, new faces replacing those of the first LACE (most noticeably Deborah Raffin as Judy), a much too long subplot involving a rebellion in Asia... But on the other hand, for those same reasons mainly, LACE II did turn out to be better than expected. At least we got something different. Well, almost different. Omit the witch hunt plot involving the three possible dads, some flashbacks involving schoolgirl Judy, Maxine and Pagan, and the emotional grand finale where Lili meets her real father, it’s almost like watching a totally different miniseries. OK, maybe not, but what is left is still quite impressive, especially how things got to be resolved. It wasn’t all wrapped up in a bow as expected. That, plus the Harlequin-like romance between Judy and her abductor, not to mention Lili doing her thing with the hunky astronaut...  All in all, good times, as would say Jerry Blake from TV’s STRANGERS WITH CANDY.  

Yes, LACE II may not have been quite as addictive as LACE but the folks behind the sequel did try their hardest to make it look just as good, which is an achievement per se. Besides, when one reaches a point in his life where he’d rather take things for what they are and not for what they’re supposed to be I’d say, lo and behold, I really had a ball with this sequel after all.

Until next post—Martin  

FEMALE ON THE BEACH (1955)

Confession time: Universal’s FEMALE ON THE BEACH directed by Joseph Pevney and starring the ever so intense Joan Crawford had been sitting on my shelf unwatched for years—FOR YEARS. And people call me call a trash guru. Unforgivable, if you ask me. But seriously, the main reason for this faux pas has been that I own so many titles—whether they are movies, miniseries, TV shows or books—that I hardly know where to look or, more importantly, when to focus on them. Well, now seems like a good idea for this 1955 black and white film also starring then-hottie Jeff Chandler. I took a look at it over the Holidays and indeed found it quite endearing in a so bad it’s so good manner.

Crawford plays a middle-aged rich widow who moves into a beach house owned by her late husband. Cynical to the core but always dressed to the nines, she has no time for romantic liaisons, or so she thinks. In comes gigolo neighbour Chandler for whom she eventually falls deeply. What a girl to do? Well, drink heavily when he doesn’t call, for once. Then when he does show up, drop everything (except your heels to walk on the beach) just so to be near him, which of course may lead to a proposal of marriage if you play your cards right. 

As if all this wasn’t crazy enough, Crawford also ends up discovering in the house a hidden diary in which a former tenant’s description of her romantic attachments to Chandler led her to her death from the balcony. Was she pushed? Was it accidental? I bet it wasn’t. But more importantly, will Crawford be next and still look stunning? 

As mentioned in other posts, a lot more is going on in this campy little number but I always chose to keep zilch as much as I can so anyone interested in catching the film can happily simmer in the swing of things—and this one does not disappoint, trust me. From the many mood swings of our star heroine to the crazy turn of events, to the amazing shot of our gigolo running into the ocean in a slightly girlish way, I’d say that FEMALE ON THE BEACH is indeed unintentionally funny. And thank heaven for that, for I wouldn’t have it in any other way. Sadly, this pure cinematic bonbon was to be Crawford’s last glamorous film. What followed before the actress made it big again with Baby Jane was a slew of desperate housewives vehicles that are tamer in the looks department but no less cuckoo. I’m talking about QUEEN BEE, AUTUMN LEAVES, THE STORY OF ESTHER COSTELLO. You should check them out as you should FEMALE ON THE BEACH. It has been a while since TCM aired this gem. I hope they put it on their schedule very soon.

Until next post—Martin 

THE WOMEN OF ‘THE LOVE MACHINE’ (1971)

Last evening my hubby and I decided to re-visit a fave film of mine, one that I have not watched for a very long time but reviewed on this blog in 2012. It was none other than the 1971 screen adaptation of Jacqueline Susann’s mega bestseller THE LOVE MACHINE, directed by the guy who brought us The 42^nd Academy Awards the year prior, Jack Haley Jr. I have no clue as to why executive producer and Susann’s other half Irving Mansfield have opted for this man, but Haley sure made everything look bright and groovy, never a bad thing in my opinion when it comes to early ‘70s showbiz over-the-top dramas. 

The first thing I remembered while watching the film is how happy a kid I had been the first time I had set eyes on it. I was around 10 I believe and I had just spotted one of The Price is Right original beauties Anitra Ford. She was in the fashion TV montage, broadcasted through the living room of the Judith Austin character, wife of the head of the IBC network who eventually makes and breaks Robin Stone’s career. But I’m ahead of myself. Let’s get back to stunning Anitra Ford for a second. I was a major Price is Right fan at the time and was simply astounded catching her in the film. I stayed glued to the screen in the hopes of seeing her again but to no avail. But it barely mattered, for by then I was already caught up into the whole cinematic debauchery. 

For those who have yet to see it, THE LOVE MACHINE focuses on Robin Stone, a TV reporter who sleeps his way to the top. Of course no female character emerges unscathed on his fast and sexy journey to get there. One person who learns this the hard way is sweet but dim-witted top model Amanda. By the time she realizes her predicament she has already been used and abused by him (a hard slap on the face). And that’s where it gets tricky, folks. Had the role been given to a better actress her pivotal downward spiral scene would have been something to watch. As is with then-newcomer Jody Wexler at the reins, she barely makes waves. Oh make no mistake Wexler is still fun to watch but she can hardly hold a candle to the other seasoned performers sharing the screen. It’s no surprise that THE LOVE MACHINE ended up being her only film. She passed away in 2013 at the young age of 68, according to IMDB.  

In the novel, the character of Maggie, another one of Stone’s conquests, is fully developed. In the film, however, she has three scenes. In the first one we learn that Maggie (Sharon Farrell) has already been used by Stone when she admits to have ‘auditioned’ for him for a project from which she is now being axed (reminiscent of Neely O’Hara’s abrupt exit from a Broadway musical in VALLEY OF THE DOLLS). She seems angrier for having been denied the role than for having used the casting couch to better her career. It is further confirmed when Stone chance meets her at the infamous party scene brawl at the end of the film. There she claims to having finally ‘landed’ a few roles, which makes Stone very proud. Later on, when Stone is in need of a pick me up after losing everything she offers him a lift (in other words, her help) in her expensive red-colored Jaguar, which definitely shows a somewhat lucrative career on her part. What kind of a career, that we are never sure. Stone still chooses to reject her offer. One thing we are positive though is that there clearly is a kinship between the two characters, one that will probably never come to fruition. I don’t recall if they end up an item in the book. I’ll have to check it out and come back to you.  

One female character who ends up not being on Robin Stone’s sexual radar is ‘celebrity fucker’ Ethel Evans who also works at the network. Her reaction to his cold rejection after making a pass at him? ‘You don’t know what you’re missing, buster’. Of all the women in the film Ethel is the trashiest and, strangely enough, the most likable. She knows what she is and makes no apology for it. When plain comedian du jour Christie Lane (the effective Shecky Green) makes an honest woman out of her Ethel finally feels vindicated, a stepping stone from her wild, wild ways.  She may not have landed prince charming but is very much satisfied with her newfound posh life. Besides, now that she is with child and still manages to wear the pants in the family what more could she ever want? Actress Maureen Arthur is perfect in the role. Her facial reaction to everything her clumsy husband does or says is pure comedic timing gold. We can’t see anybody else playing Ethel. Kudos to the great Miss Arthur who, BTW, is still alive and kicking as we speak. 

That leaves Judith Austin (Dyan Cannon), who, if you remember, is the powerful wife of IBC network owner Greg Austin. Clearly you wouldn’t want to mess with her, but Robin Stone does, big time. When he ends up shunning her Judith sees red. So she vindictively sets his bedroom on fire while Stone is in the shower with two other ladies. Later on while being ignored by Stone at that infamous lavish party held by famed gay photographer Jerry Nelson (played to perfection by David Hemmings) she discovers a misplaced self-inscribed bracelet belonging to Jerry but given by close friend Stone. Believing that the rumor mill is true, that Stone swings both ways, she is hell-bent on destroying his career. What follows is the zaniest cat and mouse chase in film history as Stone tries his hardest to retrieve the piece of evidence that will ruin him. He eventually does get it back just before the cops and the press show up but he still ends up losing everything in the end. What a guy to do next? Moving on, as singer Dionne Warwick so melodiously sings during the end credits. Indeed, the film makes you think that you have not seen the last of him and we certainly believe it, for he is Robin Stone after all, THE LOVE MACHINE.

Until next post—Martin