When I was little I saw a TV movie where nymphomaniac housewife Susan Blakely was sleeping with all these men right and left. At one point a workman comes to the house and she’s lounging around in a robe. Then… well, you know.
I thought, “You mean, strange men can just come to your house, and you can have sex with them??”
Why, yes. Yes, you can.
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WASHINGTON POST: [italic]The put-upon heroines of puffy-eyed potboilers used to be "by love possessed." Now we have new possessions. In "Secrets," ABC's Sunday Night Movie, Andrea Fleming is so disturbed by the death of her possessive mother that she turns into an instant nymphomaniac.
"Secrets" is a luridly entertaining 2 hour eyerow-raiser, airing at 9 p.m. on Channel 7.
Noel Coward wrote, "How potent cheap music is," and cheap melodrama can have its charms too; thus are so many TV programs born-again B-movies. What saves "Secrets" from being glib and fitfully tawdry exploitation of an hotsy totsy subject is chiefly the performance of Susan Blakely as Andrea, her first big TV role since being killed off, at her request, from "Rich Man, Poor Man."
This isn't what you'd want ot risk calling a great job of acting, but Blakely is certainly and consistently watchable. Her pouts, frets and tears are enigmatic to say the least; she's a thawed Faye Dunaway, aloof but reachable. And as she goes about seducing everybody from her kid sister's 17-year-old boyfriend to a blind piano tuner, Blakely does convey both the desperation of people helpless before impulse and the undeniable thrill that a child gets from being very naughty and knowing it.
The character's mad outbreak of indiscriminate whoopee is triggered by the death of a mother who had taught her religiously to follow the old values and old rules of sexual conduct for proper young ladies. "Nobody believes that yuck any more," notes the younger sister. Why sis never developed the princess syndrome so ingrained in Andrea is one of those little details that the James Henerson script doesn't supply.
It is a screenplay, though, much more interested in effects than in causes. The causes are knocked off with a few top psychological California truisms - be yourself, don't repress your feelings, and all that. Ah, but the effects! Blakely standing naked in front of the piano tuner is sensationalism bordering on black comedy, and the fact that this is television, and we are all curious to see "how far" the scene will go, gives this and all of Blakely's overtures and fantasies the kind of titillating tensions a hard-core porno movie could never precipitate in a theater.
How far? No very far. Just far enough to be fun and frustrating at the same time. Just far enough to pretty much guarantee that "Secrets" will be a lollapalooza in the Sunday night ratings