Once Is Not Enough (1975)

Jacqueline Susanne was definitely one of the top trashy novelists of all time, so understandably there would probably be a lot of people who would think a cinematic adaptation of her novel "Once Is Not Enough" would be great trash. Unfortunately, that is not the case. How this movie got an "R" rating is beyond me; there is no on screen sex, very little dirty talk, and only one (brief) scene of nudity. What the movie is instead for the most part is a gabfest, endless talk that doesn't contain that much interest or titillation. Though there is a little interest in a movie that has the cast of actors that it has, the actors take things so seriously that there is no fun in watching their performances. However, if you've ever wanted to see David Janssen do a nude scene...

It's amazing how forgettable some films can be, even with an "A" cast list like this one. I actually saw it about two years ago and half way through the film, realized that I had already sneered at it. You'd expect at least some camp from the writer of "Valley of the Dolls", and for this story of a Hollywood writer (Kirk Douglas) reminiscing about his life with his daughter (Deborah Raffin) and an ill-fated marriage, there was only a few moments to single out. Raffin's dull creature is named "January", which is appropriate considering her cold and frigid performance, even as an ingénue. Douglas, with one of the most hideous hairstyles since Donald Trump, tries to add some humanity to his boring character, and only sparkles in scenes with his Doris Duke/Barbara Hutton like wealthy wife (the marvelous Alexis Smith) who has an interesting secret of her own. Brenda Vaccaro, in a showy Oscar Nominated performance, spends more time bemoaning her unattractiveness, yet is actually more desirable than the leading heroine, getting some really stinging dialog to deliver. Raffin is saddled in a strange relationship with the much older David Jansen, while George Hamilton, still "Mr. Tan" in 1975, and the great Melina Mercouri are totally wasted, although Mercouri stands out in a truly erotic scene that is the highlight of the film. I wanted to see so much more of Ms. Smith, then having just proved her talent by taking over Broadway in the diva role of the musical "Follies" and a short-lived revival of "The Women". Her secret is revealed after she takes a walk through one of New York's bigger department stores, having been dropped off by her chauffeur and heading out to catch a cab. The ending is a total disappointment, pretty much coming out of nowhere and adding really no emotional value to the storyline. So now embedded in my memory, I can safely say that "Two times wasn't the charm" and I won't be paying any future visits to this artificial look at a group of mainly dull characters who give Ms. Susann's Neeley O'Hara and Helen Lawson anything to worry about.

If you happen to catch this movie, it could easily be mistaken for the pilot episode of an 80's prime-time soap. How the producers thought that anyone would seriously pay good money to watch this midday made-for-TV movie at the theater is incredibly hilarious.Kirk Douglas surprisingly headlines this incestuous melodrama where his daughter January (Deborah Raffin) harbors some sort of daddy-complex since the day she was born. I would have loved to have sat through a theater screening of this and observed the faces of the audience around me. I don't know if I would have seen smirks or looks of discomfort, like someone shouldn't have eaten those bad tacos for lunch.The movie is very outdated. It's lifted right from a Jacqueline Susann novel (or basically take your pick from any Harlequin read) and plays out just like it on the small screen. Most of the close-ups are shot through a filter, the soundtrack is hijacked by Henry Mancini's orchestrated strings, and all the actresses parade themselves with such high camp you'll find it hard not to fall in love with this atrocity.Most hilarious is January's attraction to David Janssen's character. Talk about taking the daddy-complex to the next level! Brenda Vaccaro who received an Oscar nomination(!!!) for her portrayal of a man-hungry sex-starved magazine editor is absolutely stunning. She delivered plain awful dialog with perfect snap, "He laid me, and then he fired me!" and also managing to keep a straight face at the same time, she definitely deserved the nomination.The best line comes out of the mouth of Douglas' long-suffering housekeeper, Mabel (Lillian Randolph), "For twelve years, it's just been a parade of poon-tang!", as she boards the bus to Santa Monica.Throw in a closeted lesbian millionaire engaging in a secret relationship with a reclusive Hispanic actress (where else could you view an interracial middle-aged lesbian sex scene!!), gratuitous shots of Gary Conway (portraying an astronaut LOL!) running in short shorts on a beach and Deborah Raffin staring blankly into the camera as if she were doped on percosets, and you have the ultimate camp classic of 1975.There was a scene with Raffin's character walking blankly across the road (nearly getting run over by a taxi) after she is devastated by Janssen's character, and yet I still could not determine any difference in her acting from that scene to the entire film.Vaccaro is definitely the one thing that holds this movie together, although her character isn't necessary to the story. She seemed to express more personality than all of the other characters combined that it was a joy to watch her self-diagnosing, "Sleeping with men makes me feel better!" It made me feel better too.

Wackadoo slice of late Susann--the most swanky I-love-daddy fantasy ever committed to celluloid. Little princess Deborah Raffin can't get over those warm, tingly feelings she has for Daddy (Kirk Douglas), a worn-out Hollywood producer reduced to marrying a lesbian billionaire (Alexis Smith) to keep Princess in cashmere. When she feels her special place has been taken by the sapphic capitalist, she shifts to a handy incest-surrogate--a soused genius novelist (David Janssen) who seems to be modeled after Norman Mailer. In a stroke of sublime Susann fantasy, Mailer-Janssen is impotent--cured by the nubile caresses of Princess. Throw in Brenda Vaccaro as a man-eating fashion editor and you have a mound of trash with as much fragrance as a New York sanitation strike.The saddest credits on this number: "Producer--Howard Koch. Assistant Director--Howard Koch, Jr." Imagine the agony of poor Guy Green, an aging British yeoman who had just finished work on a biography of Martin Luther, as he struggled with the correct way to shoot a sex scene between Alexis Smith and Melina Mercouri. It's all not quite as peacocklike as it sounds, but Susann certainly had a pop style--the raspy voice of an old Broadway bawd telling an ingenue (i.e., her hausfrau-ly reader), how it really is in the big, ugly, grown-up world. The freaky, non-contradictory mix of camp, obsession and melodrama a la fromage has a sweetness a half century later: the biggest-selling woman author of all time really did just want to be a pampered shiksa teenager stroking some graying temples.