Review by Vince-5

I positively adore Jackie Susann's novel, and the 1967 version was a lot of fun (though it hardly did the book justice). However, why they had to make this ultra-bland piece of garbage is beyond me. It bears almost no relationship to the book--the storyline takes completely different directions, the material is diluted so much that it's rendered pointless, and the elements of the characters are entirely changed. Ted is no longer Neely's long-suffering bisexual husband, but her womanizing, domineering manager. Neely herself goes from hell-on-heels to poor put-upon li'l sugarpie with eyes full of tears and a box full of "rainbows"--the term "dolls" is never used. The only shock is seeing David (Last House on the Left) Hess as a Frenchman named Robaire!

And the acting! Veronica Hamel is a terrible actress and has none of the delicate poignancy that Sharon Tate possessed. Note the way she smokes her cigarettes--she's trying so hard to appear stylish and feminine that she looks like a drag queen. When Hamel's brittle, unappealing Jennifer committed suicide, I was glad I didn't have to put up with her any longer! Bert Convy is gratingly awful as Tony, Catherine Hicks is dishwater-dull as Anne, and Lisa Hartman is hopelessly miscast as the toned-down Neely. Jean Simmons's Helen Lawson is sickeningly un-evil.

What else? Well, the songs are godawful (despite Dionne Warwick's performance of the theme, "What Becomes of Love"), the atmosphere is nonexistent, and worst of all, IT'S NOT EVEN GOOD FOR LAUGHS! Four hours of unadulterated boredom. If Jacqueline Susann hadn't died in 1974, this monstrosity would've killed her.