Betsy

Imagine a 1970's TV mini-series with added scenes of nudity and adult language and a somewhat bigger budget and the result is "The Betsy". Based on one of the gazillion cookie-cutter novels of Harold Robbins, the film looks and sounds just like a mini-series that slipped by the censors. Olivier (in the midst of one of his WORST periods for hammy overacting which also includes "The Boys From Brazil" and "The Jazz Singer") is a mega-rich automobile tycoon who has been ousted from his company to live in sedate luxury, albeit in a wheelchair. He follows the racing career of Jones closely and, after a nasty accident, convinces him to come and work for him in creating the third international car (after the Model T Ford and the Volkswagen.) This one is to be called The Betsy after his great-granddaughter Beller. Unfortunately, his nefarious grandson Duvall runs the company and doesn't want something as bothersome as a car to interfere with his profits from diversification into such products as dishwashers. This sets up a heated rivalry between Jones and Duvall. While this contemporary story plays out, Olivier flashes back to the 1930's when he was at his peak of power and he had his way with various women. Here, he contends with wimpy son Rudd and Rudd's lovely wife Ross who will one day give birth to Duvall. The stories play out alternately until the end when various connections detail how one tale is directly related to the other. The cast is fairly stellar for the most part, though few of the actors make any great impact. Olivier speaks in an inane and unexplained accent and overemotes ridiculously throughout. Fortunately, he's still rather entertaining nonetheless as his character gets several amusing things to say in the film. Jones is appealing and considerably more low-key than Olivier (anyone would be!) His fans will be surprised to see him in this traditional leading man type of role (and sporting an impressively chiseled torso.) Duvall (who, for some reason, appears shorter in this film than at any other point in his career!) nibbles his own share of the scenery as he tries to stay afloat in the melodramatics. Alexander retains her dignity as his neglected wife and Ross looks about as good as she ever did as his mother in the flashback scenes. A welcome dose of glamorous bitchery comes in the form of opportunistic and promiscuous Down. Her various high fashion costumes also bring occasional titters. Beller (the same chipmunk who would eventually land on "Dynasty" for a while in the '80's) is an acquired taste. Her Kewpie face and waist-length hair can annoy, yet her bare-everything swimming pool scene has earned her a few fans. She has one particularly ugly canary yellow dress which assaults the senses as well. Many other familiar actors pop in along the way including Swenson, Robert Guillaume's old sparring partner from "Benson". The title car seems a little goofy (people are supposed to drive around in a compact car that has Betsy emblazoned on the side?) and some of the dramatics seem pretty pointless. Maybe it was the time the film was made. The whole thing is a trashed-up precursor to "Dallas" and "Dynasty". There's even a stilted and tentatively presented homosexual relationship thrown into the mix. The sets, budget, costuming and cast elevate it to some degree and there are many unintentional laughs along the way. It is more than a little disconcerting, however, to see "Wuthering Heights" Heathcliff banging a French maid on his bed while his wife is downstairs carrying out a wedding reception for their son!

This is not the kind of movie you can recommend, but if you are in the mood for trash with a lot of glitter, this is the one for you. There are not many good adaptations from Harold Robbins novels, and this is not one of them. The all-star cast helps immensely but they might have brought a bit of fun to the proceedings, so we could think this wasn't torture for them to make.

I bought this film because I LOVE Robert Duvall and Tommy Lee Jones, and it was packed with other great names. The movie misses its mark at every chance. It fails to bring you into caring about the characters, the passion, the evil, etc. I don't know how it could miss with the people involved, but it does. Just the description of the movie was gripping, but the viewing failed to deliver. The era was fascinating. The sets were beautiful. The music was blah. The drama was off center. You should see the chemistry of Jones and Duvall in "Lonesome Dove" to see what is missing in this film. I'm glad I have this chance to comment, as I was dying to tell someone who cares.

Laurence Olivier is the multi-millionaire head of a family, who's rich due to the family business, making cars. Larry wants to make a new car whose engine would be environmentally safe. He needs Tommy Lee Jones' (a race car driver) assistance in creating the engine. And, that begins the present day plot. There are flashbacks that show just how and why things are the way they are today. The presence of Katharine Ross and Kathleen Beller make this feel like Dynasty. And, Robert Duvall is Larry's grandson who'll stop at nothing to stop the development of "The Betsy," which is what Larry named the engine. The movie is nothing like "The Oscar" in that it's not flashy or campy; and, it doesn't have any it's-so-bad-it's good value to it. Instead, you get the impression they tried to take themselves seriously and in doing so, only emphasized the fact these are not nice people and it gives the movie a kind of seedy, mean quality to it. Its love scenes add to its trashy feel to it and not entirely in a good way. The music is so understated, mellow, and refined, it sounds like some "Godfather" copy. All in all, once you've seen the ending, you may want to see it again, knowing what you know. But, it's not much to really write home about.

I once read an interview in which Harold Robbins, the dirty old man of (so called) literature, revealed that his books were written to a strict formula of one sex scene every six pages and one business scene every twelve (or something like that). Well, this adaptation of one of his later (and lesser) novels seems to stick fairly rigidly to that formula, with hot-shot racing driver Tommy Lee Jones and crusty old car manufacturer Laurence Olivier taking turns to work their way through the female members of the cast – which is probably why Robert Duvall looks so out of sorts throughout the film as Larry's bitter grandson. Yes, this is that infamous film which has Sir Larry – clearly only in it for the money – with his trousers around his ankles as he tests out the suspension on a random hotel maid's chassis.

To be fair to the old thesp, he's by far the best thing about this trashy, but curiously compelling and enjoyable, soap. He seems to have watched every Frank Morgan film he could lay his hands on before revealing his convincing American accent to the camera, and it's a strange experience to see such a respected actor slumming it this way. A young Tommy Lee Jones was still trying to establish himself in movies when he landed this part, so you can't really blame him for accepting the lead role. Other names in the cast (Katharine Ross, Lesley Anne-Down, etc) were always second-rankers who were probably grateful for the exposure, but Robert Duvall is the real casting oddity in a role that is bland and one-dimensional.

The story pits him against Olivier and Jones as they attempt to design an economic production-line car that will transform the industry. Bob's more interested in selling dish washers and men's clothing to Filipinos, so he launches an undercover espionage plot that has a fairly predictable conclusion. There are few dramatic moments, and you could probably wander off for ten minutes to make a cup of tea and smoke a fag without losing the thread of the plot. Anyway, the story is secondary to the depiction of life amongst the ridiculously rich, and the ready availability of incredibly gorgeous women who disrobe for the flimsiest of reasons. It panders to that desire that lives within all of us to some degree to have the finest things in life, but also makes it clear (probably without meaning to) that such lives are essentially empty and meaningless, thus leaving us feeling just a little bit better about our modest lot in life.