Linbeymusol Wonderful character development!

BroadcastChic Excellent, a Must See

Bereamic Awesome Movie

Solidrariol Am I Missing Something?

MissClassicTV Ick. I missed this movie when it came out because my summer of 1975 was filled with the excitement of the Boston Red Sox and I paid attention to little else. Now that I've seen it, all I can say is, "Ick." January's unnatural adoration of her father left me feeling queasy. Well, it's probably not unnatural for a young girl to idolize her father. But it seems that her father encouraged it past the little girl stage right into adulthood. She keeps a picture of her father by her bedside and another on her desk. At one point, Tom says to her, "I think you're beautiful." Her answer is, "Thank you. I think you are too. Almost as beautiful as my father." Mike Wayne (actor Kirk Douglas) is an overindulgent father. His character could have been complicated and interesting. Not here. Kirk Douglas's performance on screen is cringe-worthy. Deborah Raffin as his daughter January was boring. I don't know what's worse, icky or blah.This was a bad movie until about an hour in when the character Tom Colt shows up. David Janssen is so good as Tom Colt that it's like he's acting in a different movie. He elevates this awful movie. I also enjoyed Brenda Vaccaro as Linda Riggs, January's best friend. She must have had a ball with that character – she plays it so enthusiastically and with such confidence. In comparison, Deborah Raffin as January Wayne was practically lifeless. It's just a bland, unintelligent performance, and she's the center of the movie, so she needed to be more interesting. She also had some awful lines and Raffin wasn't talented enough to make more of those lines. And she showed no emotion in her reactions to events. I neither liked nor disliked her. I felt nothing for her. So I couldn't feel sorry for her at the end.Tom Colt turns out to be the most interesting character. He's earthy and macho. David Janssen gives this movie depth and the beautiful and funny Brenda Vaccaro gives it lightness. Both characters know who they are and are honest. And I cared about them. Everyone else either sleepwalks through this slow-moving movie or weighs it down with melodrama.It's sad that 30 years after Casablanca (1942), the screenwriter of that classic film was asked to work on this. I don't think he was the right man for the job.

aj989 Once is Not Enough is a tepid screen version of a terribly trashy Jackie Susann novel. Kirk Douglas stars as an over the hill, broke movie producer, who, to maintain his opulent life style, has married one of the world's richest women, played by Alexis Smith, an overbearing snob, who enjoys nothing more than to orchestrate the lives of all those around her. His daughter (Deborah Raffin) is a beautiful, but prim and naive young woman (i.e. Virgin!) who detests her father's new bride. Her "daddy complex" is a primary theme that runs throughout the film. Rather than dating the hot young available astronaut, she instead chooses the brooding, middle aged and over bearing author - a man incidentally very much like her own father.Besides the often hilarious camp nature of Once is Not Enough, the film has few redeeming features. The cinematography is terrible. Deborah Raffin is entirely uninteresting as the lead. Throughout most of her screen time, Raffin either giggles or stares blankly into the camera. The dialogue is abysmal and the story line has been done before and done much, much better. Despite all the talk of sex, very little actually occurs. I'm still not sure why Kirk Douglas agreed to do this film and for much of the film he seems confused as to why he is on screen as well. While the first 40 or so minutes are centered on his character, he disappears for most of the rest of the film. When he is on screen, he is loud and entirely over bearing, which sadly is a hallmark of his filmography from around this time.Brenda Vacarro in her role as magazine editor and sex addict Linda Riggs, is the film's main highlight. Despite her character being written as a one note joke, Vacarro perseveres. She spits out most of her badly written lines as if they are actually worth something and she gives a full characterization of what is largely a poorly constructed out stereotype.

Aussie Stud 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.

nunculus 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.