SOAPDISH: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1991) Paramount Home Video

The movie to unequivocally prove all that glitters is mere tin turned to manure, director, Michael Hoffman’s Soapdish (1991) takes an all-star cast, to feature no less Teflon-coated alumni as Sally Field, Kevin Kline, Robert Downey Jr., Elisabeth Shue, Whoopi Goldberg and Carrie Fisher, and a surefire premise for a grand spoof – the daytime soap opera, and comes away with a rather tepid, turgid and toadying send-up to the mavens and buzzards who used to make the proliferation of all those implausible stories on daytime TV click with ardent fans the world over. The problem here isn’t with the cast. Indeed, most can – and do - spin this mid-grade horsepucky into Egyptian cotton for the bulk of the picture’s runtime. So, in the end, it is the Robert Harling/Andrew Bergman screenplay, cribbing from an uncredited Edmond Dantès’ key-concept authorship, that weighs the comedy down. We’re introduced to Celeste Talbert (Sally Field doing 9-minutes of All My Children’s Susan Lucci on crack), an incredibly high-strung diva on the fictional daytime drama, The Sun Also Sets. Dear Celeste has a problem. Her maniacally driven co-star, Montana Moorehead – ‘Nurse Nan’ on the show within a show (Cathy Moriarty) is the bane of her existence, whose backdoor approach to fame – literally – includes plying the show’s producer, David Seton Barnes (Robert Downey Jr.) with the promise of sexual favors. In order to usurp Celeste’s popularity with her fans, Barnes and Moorehead conspire on a last-minute plot twist for an upcoming episode, where Celeste’s character, ‘Maggie’ will accidentally kill ‘Angelique’ – the newest member of the cast, played by Lori Craven (Elisabeth Shue).

Powerless to prevent the shoot, even over the strenuous objections of the show’s head writer, Rose Schwartz (Whoopi Goldberg) the scene plays out, interrupted by Celeste's acknowledgement, Lori is her real-life niece. Network exec, Edmund Edwards (Gary Marshall) sees an angle to play via their real-life familial ties and decides to make Lori a regular cast member. Behind the scenes, few of these warring women know how badly the show’s ratings have dipped in more recent times. Their first plan foiled, Moorehead and Barnes now elect to unnerve Celeste by reinstating Jeffrey Anderson (Kevin Kline) as Dr. Rod Randall. Owing to her considerable clout at the show’s zenith, Celeste had Anderson fired nearly a decade ago after their real-life romance turned rancid. Anderson, who has spent the interim schlepping it in low-brow dinner theater, is invigorated at the prospect of getting back at his ex. Meanwhile, Celeste begins to rekindle her feelings for Anderson. Tragically, her notions to resurrect that love they once shared are derailed when Anderson takes a budding interest in Lori. Now, Celeste drops the real bomb. Lori is not her niece, but Anderson’s daughter she had in secret long ago.

While Lori is deeply wounded by this revelation, and Anderson, thoroughly disgusted to consider he nearly seduced his own flesh and blood, Celeste’s confession was caught on camera and creates a media frenzy. It also renews public interest in The Sun Also Sets. A scandal is very good for ratings. Barnes convenes a board meeting, confident the network’s executive brain trust will crush Celeste under their iron-clad morality clause and oust her from her privileged perch. Instead, Barnes is chagrined when the board shows Celeste empathy, and moreover, is over-the-moon at her crisis having ‘saved’ The Sun Also Sets from certain cancellation. The rest of the Harling/Bergman screenplay is – ‘no kidding’ pure soap opera – alas, largely deprived of the razor-biting comedic wit that is supposed to be its primary objective as ribald farce. Celeste’s various attempts to reconcile with Anderson are derailed when Montana reveals she and Anderson slept together recently, and Rose shows Celeste tabloid ‘proof’ Montana is carrying Anderson’s love child. Usurping her parent’s already declining leverage within the network, Lori puts an ultimatum to Edwards – either he fires Celeste and Anderson on the spot, or she will quit the show.

Pressed between the proverbial ‘rock’ and a ‘hard place’, Edwards orchestrates a live broadcast of the pivotal episode to decide who will remain and who will wind up on the cutting room floor. Lori begins the broadcast with confidence, only to discover her character will be written off with a fatal brain tumor. Desperate to stop Celeste from prevailing, Montana begins to ad-lib her lines, suggesting Lori’s ‘Angelique’ can be saved by an experimental brain transplant. Combating this absurdity with one of her own, Celeste offers her character’s brain as the donor. Affected by this fictional sacrifice, Lori pleads for Celeste and Anderson to remain on the show. To thwart their happiness, Montana reiterates she is carrying Anderson’s baby. However, Rose, with the aid of the thoroughly vindictive sexpot, Ariel Maloney (Teri Hatcher) who plays Dr. Monica Demonico on the program, but always wanted Anderson for her own, now exposes that, until recently, Montana was a man - ‘Milton Moorehead - from Syosset, Long Island. Barnes is stunned by the revelation. Montana is thoroughly humiliated. We fast track to the annual daytime Emmys where Celeste, Anderson and Lori all win awards in their respective nominated categories. Montana’s fate? Performing dinner theater at Anderson’s old haunt.

The chief problem with Soapdish as a scathing comedy send-up is it begins to take itself waaay too seriously midway through. Instead of poking holes at the balloons of sham and hypocrisy – the main staples of the legitimate daytime soap opera, Soapdish begins to take on the shadings of becoming one itself. This is one silly and disposable ‘nothing’ to completely squander its mostly competent cast as cardboard cutouts with zero personality or staying power. Even the venerable Sally Field comes across as a stick figure with no soul, mirroring Fields’ own public faux pas when, in 1985, accepting her second Best Actress Academy Award she uncontrollably gushed, “I can’t deny that you like me. You really like me!” Were that the same could be said of her alter ego. But Celeste Talbert is a wholly disagreeable harpy. She grates on the nerves, not just deliberately, to make her general dislike on the fictional soap click as it should, but for the audience, expecting far more, and far better from Field as, ostensibly, the star of this show. True enough, its an all-star cast. But Field carries the heft here. So, we should at least be able to warm to her fictional self in spots. Doesn’t happen.

This leaves Soapdish with an impossible void it never otherwise capably fills. The screwball elements of the plot are saddled with actors who know they could do better, given half the chance, and the comedy steadily gives way to one implausible backstage scenario, plastered onto the next. I suspect, Harling and Bergman are trying to create some sort of jest-worthy pressure cooker, constricting the folly of all these intermingling lives until something has to give. But in the end, the predictability of the exercise thoroughly kills whatever slapstick chum has been lobbed at the screen for the thirty-second chuckle. Aaron Spelling was Soapdish’s executive producer. Having produced more than his fair share of primetime froth and fantasy, I expected more…a lot more – or at very least – better than what eventually materialized on the screen. This one could have been all about trumping the ‘legitimacy’ of those pretentiously-pitched primetime melodramas of yore that in 1991 were already well on their way out.  Instead, Soapdish evolves into a pseudo-homage to that sub-genre in popular entertainments. Those who adore soap operas – daytime or primetime – will likely find this plushily padded poop a hoot. I remain thoroughly unimpressed.

Soapdish arrives on Blu-ray via Paramount Home Video in a remastered 1080p widescreen presentation that will astound. Previous releases on VHS and DVD utterly failed to capture the subtler visual nuances in Ueli Steiger’s cinematography. But in 1080p, the mountain has certainly done its homework. This is a new scan for sure, and it perfectly preserves the dimly lit, but gaudy color palette that was, at least at the time of Soapdish’s theatrical release, one of its best, selling features. Eugenio Zanetti’s stylized production design, Jim Dultz’s showy art direction, and, Lee Poll’s lurid set decoration positively sparkle herein; ditto for Nolan Miller and an uncredited Mark Zunino’s over-the-top costuming. Flesh tones have been accurately rendered. The color palette here favors warm hues, but accurately reproduces all of them. Previous video incarnations were little more than a red/pink/purple haze of indistinguishable tints. Contrast is excellent, with zero black crush. This image also reveals some good solid detail, especially in close-ups. This discs DTS 5.1 is a bit of a misnomer as Soapdish is hardly a movie you would be watching for engaging surround sound. And, true to form, what’s here doesn’t sound all that much more engrossing than the movie’s plot, or when directly compared to the 2.0 DTS default – the way the picture was actually released into theaters. Paramount has ported over a junket featurette from 1991, looking pretty awful, and the original theatrical trailer, which doesn’t fare much better. Bottom line: Soapdish is a freakishly dumb and occasionally dull take on all that glitters, and that which, decidedly does not once the cameras stop rolling. Is it a fun film? In spots – yes. But mostly, it’s a waste of your time. But the efforts poured into this remastering effort are admirable. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

1