‘HAROLD ROBBINS’ THE PIRATE’ MINISERIES (1978)

 

It was during a three month break from a minor surgery (busted knee) that I took the plunge and watched the two part TV screen adaptation of THE PIRATE, based on the Harold Robbins novel of the same name. Mind you, I still hadn’t opened the book and I was really hesitant to watch the miniseries. Like many of you, I always prefer reading the material on which a film or a mini is based before catching it on screen. However, since I was a tad curious and, more importantly, far from being of sound and mind (I blame the meds), I finally screened it. 

THE PIRATE dives into the melodrama rather quickly when the adopted son (Franco Nero) of a powerful Arab couple ends up ruling the vast oil fortune of his country without knowing he’s actually born to Jewish parents—a secret kept from him for the most part of the miniseries.  His charmed life is shown via many scenes involving the Jet Set where our protagonist ends up having a torrid affair with an American debutante, played by the delightful Anne Archer. So enamoured he becomes of her he chooses to leave his Muslim wife and daughters. Thus begins his many problems, one of which resulting in his eldest daughter (the recently departed Olivia Hussey) joining a clan of rebels to destroy and eventually kidnapping his son from Archer.

I could go on and on about the plot but, like I always say, this would lead me to reveal too much and spoil everything, as if I had not done it already. Anyway, yes, I had fun watching this miniseries. Not my favorite Robbins adaptation (penned by Julius J. Epstein who co-authored the silver screen classic CASABLANCA) but still enjoyable to a certain degree.  Franco Nero is fine as the adopted son. But the real star is without a doubt Anne Archer who gives just the right dose of camp every time she’s on-screen. In fact, she seems to be the only one having fun. In any event, check her out in this if you can. 

I know the mini is still hard to find. It took me years to finally be able to watch it. THE PIRATE certainly deserves to be available everywhere on disc or on a popular streaming service. Maybe there’s a copyright issue or something.  I have no idea. But like the TV remake of VALLEY OF THE DOLLS (1981) and Robbins other small screen adaptation of THE DREAM MERCHANTS (1980), it sure deserves a wider viewership, however average—well, to me, anyway—a miniseries can turn out to be.

 

Until next post—Martin

‘BEVERLY HILLS’ BY PAT BOOTH

 

I came upon Pat Booth’s BEVERLY HILLS (1989, Crown) while visiting a little Paris bookshop near the Seine. The book was in hardcover, a first edition, and on sale. Naturally I could not leave it behind. Except I already owned a paperback copy. However this one had a different cover: a stunning-looking blond clad in a one piece bathing suit. So you can imagine just the thought of leaving it and her behind already made my heart quicken. So without further hesitation I grabbed the book and never let go.

 

I came back to Canada with a bunch of used, and not so used, novels. It took me a whole year to finally get to BEVERLY HILLS, finishing it up last month. Suffice to say I did enjoy the book. Not Pat Booth’s best, but I had a real good time overall. Her narrative, though heavily padded, is still quite impressive (almost lyrical), as are her sex scenes, which are aplenty. The characters are memorable, even likable in some cases. The plot has a few inconsistencies that ended up irking me a bit (the kind that are just there to move the story along) but other than that BEVERLY HILLS is a fun ride through the rich and the rotten.

 

In a nutshell, we follow eye-catching Paula Hope who after fleeing the Everglades winds up working for top-notched gay interior designer Winthrop Tower in Beverly Hills. I have to say that this guy is my favorite character. He is so endearing behind his “queen bee” facade. I find that rare in trashy novels of the ‘80s. Usually the gay guys are highly tormented or barely there at all or worse, just super bitchy. This Tower fellow is quite different, so kudos to Miss Booth for inventing him.

 

Paula ends up rubbing elbows with The Beautiful People, one of whom is hunky film superstar Robert Hartford. Though their first interactions don’t go as planned they eventually fall for one another. But like in any other well-matched pair in glitzy novels their love comes with a price and that price is none other than Beverly Hills new age guru Caroline Kierkegaard who will do anything to destroy Hartford’s newfound happiness (they go a long way).  Add a battle of the sexes for the control of an infamous hotel plus a fanatic chauffeur who only has eyes for Paula and you’ve got yourself one pleasant sleazy story despite its faults. 

 

This is my fourth Pat Booth read. She wrote a total of 15 novels, I believe (excluding her non-fiction MASTER PHOTOGRAPHERS), before her untimely passing in 2009 from cancer. Rumor has it that her advance paycheck from her racy books rivaled that of Judith Krantz’s, when she successfully jumped aboard the US market from the UK. I am not that surprised. Remember, it was the ‘80s, the heyday of the trashy novels.  Regardless, she deserved every penny. Her books are fun beach reads that certainly deserve the wide readership.

 

Until next post—Martin

1990 Ballantine PB edition

 

 

JACKIE COLLINS’ PARIS CONNECTIONS

  

When I first read Jackie Collins serialised novel L. A. CONNECTIONS in 1998 I remember thinking that it would definitely make a great miniseries. But since minis were quickly becoming a thing of the past, I had little hope that it would come to fruition, let alone become a movie or a TV movie. Cut to 2010 and surprise, surprise, the thing was actually happening, thanks to the UK chain store Tusco which then produced (with the help of Collins herself) an actual movie adaptation and released it on DVD exclusively. It took this Canadian blogger a multi-region DVD and another 15 years to finally catch a copy to review.

 

The main premise of JACKIE COLLINS’ PARIS CONNECTIONS is basically the same as in L. A. CONNECTIONS: American reporter Madison Castelli (Nicole Steinwedell) flies to Paris to investigate a murder mystery involving dead models during Fashion Week. There she hooks up, in more ways than one, with old fling and photographer Jake Sica (Anthony Delon) who agrees to help her with the case.

 

Shot on location, JACKIE COLLINS’ PARIS CONNECTIONS is a sight for sore eyes with its panorama view of the City of Light and the many glittery sequences of the fast-moving jet setters. Whether focusing on a catwalk or simply on a terrace café director Harley Cokeliss (BLACK MOON RISING) clearly succeeds in capturing the essence of Collins vision in the French capitol. Story wise, Michael Tupy does a fine job translating the author story to the screen. His understanding of the characters, especially of the heroine, makes for a fine light-hearted mix of romance and suspense. The entire cast seem to enjoy themselves as well, including GAME OF THRONES Charles Dance and the late international star Anouk Aimée (A MAN AND A WOMAN) who makes a delightful cameo as a sought-after but headstrong designer.

 

Nicole Steinwedell who, as noted earlier, plays the sassy heroine is completely new to me. She already has quite an impressive acting resume, however, in shows like DAWSON’S CREEK, TWO AND A HALF MEN, CSI and feature films like A SINGLE MAN. In 2024, according to Wikipedia, she was appointed Vice-President and Banker for a private firm in New-York. So my guess is that she’s put her acting chomps aside for a career in finance. We wish her well. Maybe she’ll turn up in something else someday. She sure is a good enough actress.

 

JACKIE COLLINS’ PARIS CONNECTIONS may come down to as nothing more than a frivolous whodunit whose time is indeed more spent on looks than substance, and still I dig it—as expected. If you’ve managed to make it thus far through this post, guess what: you‘re addicted to this type of cinematic brain candy just as I am. And for that I only have one thing left to say: respect.

 

Until next post—Martin

 

 

BAD GIRLS CLUB: CARROLL BAKER IN ‘SYLVIA’

 

You could easily say that I’m a Carroll Baker fan. I have yet to see everything she’s in but I’ve seen enough to consider myself a proud connoisseur of her work—especially after catching her in the 1964 Harold Robbins adaptation of THE CARPETBAGGERS which is long overdue to be spotlighted on this blog. But as for now, I’d like to focus on SYLVIA, a film she’s made a year later and one that equally deserves the spotlight.

 

The film begins when Baker’s just about to marry one of the wealthiest men in California, played by the still dashing Peter Lawford. Unbeknownst to her, however, her groom-to-be hires a private detective to do a background check. This investigator is none other than gay-closeted and former Playgirl centerfold George Maharis. Maharis goes back to her hometown and discovers that financially free (!) and talented poet Baker—she has a book published—holds a big secret that involves a heavy past. I won’t get into all that but if you enjoy sleaze and melodrama like I do you’ve certainly come to the right film.  Oh boy did you.

 

Yet surprisingly, underneath all that on-screen craziness hides a sensitive film worth noticing, mostly due to Baker’s strong performance as a lost soul. She succeeds in making Sylvia likable and, in return, generates some form of empathy which of course can only be a good thing. At least that’s how I felt when I watched the film—twice. As for Maharis, he’s fine as well—so is Paul Gilbert as a wisecracking drag queen (yes, a drag queen)—but it’s Baker who impresses the most. I admit, SYLVIA is not for everyone. It’s hard to watch at times and it’s probably why it got so panned by the critics but the overall delivery is quite fetching, in my opinion.

SYLVIA is based on a novel of the same name by best-selling author Howard Fast who used a pseudonym. Superstar Paul Newman was one time attached to the project but eventually opted put. The original director, David Miller (1960 MIDNIGHT LACE starring Doris Day), ended up being replaced by Gordon Douglas (the delightfully trashy CLAUDELLE INGLISH from 1961). So this leads to believe the film was a trouble shoot. Also, I remember reading somewhere that Baker threw a tantrum when she complained to deaf hears about the script, or something like that.

 

Despite of all of this, I think the film turns out better than its reputation makes it out to be. But hey, I’m the guy who thinks THE LONELY LADY is a great piece of art. In the end it comes down to what turns you on as a viewer but you’ll certainly be missing something if you fail to give SYLVIA a try.

 

Until next post—Martin