The Betsy (1979) from Johnny Web (Uncle Scoopy; Greg Wroblewski) |
For me The Betsy represented one dream fulfilled, another shattered. The fulfillment: Kathleen Beller did a frontal nude scene just a few minutes into the film, and I had such a crush on her. Didn't everyone? It's hard to find a baby boomer who didn't have a crush on Karen Allen or Kathleen Beller, or both. |
The shattering: One of my idols, Lord Olivier, showed serious chinks in his previously flawless armor. When I was a young actor, I wanted to be Olivier. I don't know how many times I watched Wuthering Heights and Rebecca, studying the way he approached those roles. I thought he was the acting god. Then I saw this movie, in which he proved incapable of producing even a poor facsimile of an American accent. Of curse it is very hard for British actors to play Americans unless they play Southerners. The "R" sound kills them. On the other hand, he was supposed to be Olivier, and he was therefore supposed to come up with something better than a bad impersonation of Johnny Carson doing Aunt Blabby. |
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That wasn't the worst of it. The film took place in the late 70s, but there were flashbacks to the 1930s. He looked absolutely ludicrous in the scenes where he had to play a younger man. He looked like one of those old guys who hang around the bars in the Miami Beach hotels, with their bad comb-overs and their hair soaked through with Grecian Formula 16. Olivier managed to avoid that look only because of two things (1) he was playing a rich man, so he didn't have to wear a pastel jacket with plaid pants (2) he was still Olivier - best legs in the history of acting - and was able to walk like a younger man for the short distances in which it was necessary. I guess Olivier doesn't need me to be his apologist, but one must concede that it was difficult to deliver the dialogue they gave him. He had to say colorful American old guy shit like, "by cracky", and "I've been hornswaggled". |
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The film is based on a Harold Robbins novel. Harold was the ruler of the best-seller lists for years with his stories of sex and greed and sex and power and more sex. I think he sold something like 750 million books. He knew how to write 'em so they'd sell: populate 'em with beautiful, manipulative women, and powerful hunky men. This particular story is basically the TV series Dynasty, except it's about the car business instead of oil. In this case, four generations of a fictional Detroit family vie for control of the family company. Great-grandpa (Olivier) wants to build the next universal car, ala the Volkswagen and the Model T, a safe, fuel-efficient car that everyone can afford. His grandson is running the company, and doesn't want grandpa to succeed for a myriad of reasons, not the least of which is that gramps was making nice-nice with his mom, before and after his dad killed himself, and ... Well, you don't really need any more to get the idea, do you? |
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