Elizabeth Montgomery raises a toast to an appalling lack of boundaries in Sins of the Mother.
If ever a film review deserved the headline “Bebitched,” it is Elizabeth Montgomery’s Sins of the Mother (1991). Adapted from Jack Olsen’s true crime novel Son: A Psychopath and His Victims, Sins does for motherhood what Montgomery’s The Legend of Lizzie Borden (1975) did for daughters.
Wooing her son one minute, tearing him to shreds the next, her Ruth Coe has the colorful vocabulary of Moira Rose; the histrionic tendencies of Rose and Lucille Bluth; and enough sinister Cluster B features to fuel an HBO limited series. On a cinematic scale of mother-son immorality, ranging from Psycho to Savage Grace to Ma Mère, Ruth’s relationship with son Kevin (Dale Midkiff of Back to You and Me) is mercifully mild. They are, in some ways, a more respectable version of con artists Lilly and Roy from The Grifters.
Barbara Mandrell struggles to save a small town from mine fires (and itself) in Burning Rage.
The most depressing thing about Burning Rage, Barbara Mandrell’s dramatic debut, is how contemporary it feels. In this 1984 telefilm, stubborn Americans would rather jeopardize their own safety, and that of their families, than listen to government scientists. There’s even a scene in which menacing goons try to prevent a scientist from conducting important research. They slink off when told, “Now if you have any problems with that you best take it up with the federal government!” These days, such an invitation might elicit a very different response.
Mommie Dearest not included, I just couldn’t resist using that photo.
Day #7: The final film in our Mother’s Day marathon is The Truth About Jane(2000), a Lifetime ditty about the inability of mother Janice (Stockard Channing) to accept the lesbianism of her teenage daughter Jane (Ellen Muth). Costarring James Naughton and RuPaul, The Truth About Jane contains many scenes set at a dining room table. Each and every time, without fail, I thought of late comedian Bob Smith’s Thanksgiving joke (“Please pass the gravy to a homosexual”) and laughed.
Day #6: Motherhood was often at the center of Rue McClanahan’s TV movies, whether she was in a starring or supporting role. We still have a few of those titles left to tackle, but today’s retrospective is of her most frustrating portrayal of motherhood: Baby of the Bride. The middle entry in her early ’90s Margret Hix series finds her unexpectedly pregnant at 53, and boy is her husband a rat about it.
Day #5: For today’s new review we’re looking back on My Mother’s Secret Life, a tawdry 1984 telefilm starring Amanda Wyss as a teenager in search of her birth mom following the death of her father. It brings her to the doorstep of a glamorous San Francisco call girl played by Loni Anderson. This was my greatest surprise of the week. It’s thoroughly ridiculous and that’s why it works in spite of itself.
Day #4:Mother, May I Sleep with Danger? is the mother of all TV movie questions, and today we’ll look back at that film, which was reviewed here last year. This one should be extra special to gay viewers not just because of the title and Tori Spelling (or costar Ivan Sergei, of The Opposite of Sex), but because the titular mother was played by the marvelous Lisa Banes. Banes, who was killed in a hit-and-run accident last year, was survived by her wife.
Day #3: We have a new review today, of Sins of the Mother. In this nasty little 1991 adaptation of a true crime book, Elizabeth Montgomery plays a manipulative mother unaware of her son’s violent secret life—and the role her abuse has played in it. Montgomery was one of the earliest (and busiest) queens of the TV movie, and later this year I’ll write about more of her work.
Day #2: Today we’re revisiting Mother Knows Best. We first watched this 1997 black comedy in January and were surprised by its hilarity. Joanna Kerns plays against type as the mother-in-law from hell, a socialite who consults a hitman when her daughter (Christine Elise) mortifies her by marrying a blue collar man (Grant Show).
Day #1: It’s May 2nd and our first post, a look at the 1981 Afterschool Special Please Don’t Hit Me, Mom, is live!
Mark your calendars! Unless my dog eats my computer, we’ll kick off a one-week celebration of Mother’s Day on May 2nd. Every day through the 8th we’ll feature a TV movie about motherhood, blending all-new content with some reposts of other mom-centric reviews.
It’s a rehearsal for a more ambitious project I might undertake later this year, so we’ll see how it goes. It’s definitely not kid-tested or mother-approved, but you can get in the mood ahead of time by listening to Lucille Bluth sing “Rose’s Turn.”
Beginning on the 2nd, I’ll “sticky” this post and update it daily with the appropriate link, and of course you can also subscribe to the site below (or track updates via RSS) if you’re a masochist.
Susan Lucci is a diminutive mafioso in Lady Mobster.
Susan Lucci’s Laurel Castle doesn’t come right out and quote Michael Corleone in Lady Mobster, but her behavior toward the heads of other crime families echoes something Michael told his consigliere: “I don’t feel I have to wipe everybody out, Tom. Just my enemies. That’s all.”
In this pulpy 1988 TV movie, Laurel has enemies from way back. A hitman killed her parents when she was a teenager, and slashed her face before fleeing from the police. (Her wound heals nicely, sparing her the fate of Judith Anderson’s Lady Scarface.) Her father was targeted for trying to take mafioso Victor Castle (Joseph Wiseman) legit, a crusade Laurel resumes as a young attorney.
I hadn’t planned on posting anything here until Monday, when we’ll tackle Judith Anderson’s Lady Scarface, but the mailwoman just dropped something off that changed all that. Behold, French Silk (and read on for its gonzo back cover and a special YouTube treat).
As Delta Burke’s Maternal Instincts, a USA Network howler that premiered in 1996, reminds us, some women would die to be mothers—and others would kill for the same privilege. Her Tracy Patterson, an infertile former realtor whose biological clock could explode at any moment, technically belongs to both categories.
Dr. Eve Warden (Beth Broderick), a fertility specialist, cautions Tracy and her husband, Stan (Tom Mason), to be realistic. “Even if all goes well, there’s only a small percentage of success.” Tracy’s sure she’ll be part of that exclusive, odds-defying club, and has already purchased an antique cradle and selected a name for her daughter. Stan, who spoils his wife but can’t give her the one thing she wants the most, isn’t as sure.
Chelsea Hobbs stars in Lifetime’s Confessions of a Go-Go Girl
The only thing you absolutely need to know about Confessions of a Go-Go Girl, a 2008 Lifetime movie, is “fresh cutlets.” When the titular character’s debut dance at an upscale gentlemen’s club is unwittingly crashed by her father, brother and boyfriend (shades of The Ultimate Lie), her dad tersely tells her this: “I have brought clients here before! Do you know what they call the new girls? Fresh cutlets.” You’ll never glance at another supermarket circular without remembering that moment.
When I first stumbled upon this title on the official Lifetime YouTube channel, I assumed it was a Jane Wiedlin or Belinda Carlisle biopic. A cursory investigation revealed that it was, in fact, about a go-go dancer. Jane McCoy (Chelsea Hobbs), a recent college grad, has caught the acting bug. Her prim and proper parents are aghast to learn she’s scrapped her law school school plans in favor of an acting program.
Robert Reed plays a family man with a shameful compulsion.
The Secret Night Caller begins atmospherically enough. A woman walks home alone at night, carrying a grocery bag. She picks up the pace when passing a creepy man who smiles at her and then seems to follow her into the building. Inside her apartment, she locks the door with a sigh of relief—and, seconds later, the phone rings.
Before there was Scream‘s iconic opening scene, in which a mystery caller terrorizes Drew Barrymore’s character, there was this, in a 1975 made-for-TV movie. The woman picks up the receiver and is greeted by that scourge of the pre-caller ID era, the obscene caller. We only hear her side of the conversation: “Hello? Oh, yes, this is Charlotte, who’s this? Well, I’m fine, thank you, but who’s this? I’m sorry, could you speak louder? I can’t hear you.”
Arlene Golonka and Robert Reed in scenes from The Secret Night Caller.
Charlotte (Arlene Golonka, of The Andy Griffith Show and Mayberry R.F.D.) grows dismayed, then hysterical. “What?! What did you say?! Hey! Hey, who is this? Who are you? No, stop that! Don’t talk like that! Oh, stop it, stop it!” she shrieks, dropping the phone. That’s how my wife typically reacts to fundraising calls from her alma mater, so it didn’t alarm me too much, but Charlotte’s fright is meant to be contagious.
There’s probably more than one flagpole in this scene from Thin Ice.
Oh, the unexpected treasures that abound in Thin Ice, a strange little teacher-student romance that walked so A Night in Heaven (1983) could gyrate run. In this 1981 made-for-TV oddity you’ll look on, aghast, as Lillian Gish encourages her granddaughter, a high school teacher and Charlie’s Butchest Angel, to sleep with one of her students. You’ll stare in disbelief as a dead cat is placed on somebody’s doorstep, wearing a tiny bespoke noose. By the end, you’ll have no idea why anyone thought this was a good idea, but you may want to watch it again.
Jaclyn Smith solves a series of murders in In the Arms of a Killer.
Knowing as we do that Jaclyn Smith’s hair has been solving crimes since the mid-1970s, it was mildly surprising to see her as a rookie detective in 1992’s In the Arms of a Killer. Smith’s Maria Quinn looks close to 50 and exudes a soft-focus sophistication that puts her at odds with Vincent Cusack, her flashily besuited, cigar-chomping new partner. Cusack, a gruff motormouth played with panache by John Spencer, is immediately suspicious.
After confirming his hunch that she’s from a privileged background, he cuts to the chase: “Nobody gives anybody anything. What’s your juice, Quinn?” She answers, “I was married to a cop who was killed on the job. The brass gives me anything I want.” It’s one of our first indications we aren’t in for gritty realism, despite the film’s Sidney Lumet aspirations.
