Legendary for being "flamboyantly awful", as Leonard Malton put it, this outrageously rotten film entertains for all the wrong reasons. It's hard to believe that this psychedelic piece of dreck came from the same director who helmed the comparatively stark and tense "Flight of the Phoenix", among other fine films. Novak plays a mousy, rather backward and shy actress who is recruited by agent Selzer and introduced to reclusive director Finch to play the title figure, a phenomenally successful actress who died an untimely and mysterious death. Finch hasn't been able to direct again since the star married him and died soon after, but is intrigued enough by Novak (who plays both roles) to give the project a try. Soon, Novak is transformed completely and is paraded out before the press where she has an unfortunate run-in with bitter, crippled columnist Browne and suddenly takes on the persona (and guttural German voice!) of the deceased legend. Lylah is an amalgamation of Dietrich, Monroe, Harlow and any number of other famed screen goddesses. As work on the film progresses, Novak continues to fall under the dead woman's spell, eventually beginning to shrink behind a harsher, more bravura facade, to the point where her own life is at stake. Novak, though her face and figure are in stunning condition, is made to look quite awful at times during the film. She's given a blonde wig with a wall of low-riding bangs that obscure her eyebrows and some of her eyes. Oddly, since it was not flattering, it's a look that Novak would keep for virtually the remainder of her life! She also has nude lips throughout the film, something the 1930's dead actress would never have had and something that does Novak no favors in any case. Some of the costumes are attractive, but many of them are ghastly. Her performance is truly bad on its own, but is hampered even further by atrocious overdubbing whenever she is taken by the spirit of Lylah Clare. There was nowhere to go but up after this startling debacle, but, except for "The Great Train Robbery" and, much later, "The Mirror Crack'd" along with a few other projects, Novak never did much on the big screen again. Finch fares a little bit better, though he leans more towards over-the-top. He's appealingly fit and tan for his age and it's surprising to know that he'd be dead within a decade of this. Borgnine plays a blowhard studio chief and offers his customary bombastic, yet still interesting to watch, brand of acting. Falk plays a lesbian hanger-on and former dialogue coach of the dead actress. When she can be understood, her performance isn't bad. Cortese hams it up amusingly as a flashy costume designer. She's another of many foreign actors who dot the cast roster. She and Borgnine would be reunited years later in an even bigger turkey than this: "When Time Ran Out"! Sprinkled into the film are Borgnine and Finch's "Phoenix" co-stars Tinti (as a swarthy gardener) and Bravos (as the butler.) "The Waltons" fans may enjoy viewing Corby in modern dress as a script girl. Anyone who's ever wanted to see former Miss America Meriwether (briefly) playing a knife-wielding, cross-dressing, lesbian has finally found his Holy Grail. Walking away, so to speak, with the acting honors of the film is Browne who confidently and condescendingly plays an aging and handicapped gossip monger in the mold of Louella Parsons. The film could certainly have used more of her acid presence, but what there is is fascinating. It would be hard to find a more day-glo colored, bizarre MESS of a drama than this concoction, but, even though it is overlong, it's compulsively watchable. Check out Novak's stroll along the Hollywood Walk of Fame in which, during the span of less than a block, she traipses upon one tragic film star case after another (yet she still goes to Finch's house!) Then there's her garden scene in which she languidly walks through the grass wearing only long navy trousers, a bra, and a sweater around her neck! Keep an eye out also for the many instances of prodding. People are forever using fingers, canes, etc... to poke and prod or otherwise intrude upon one another. A series of flashbacks to Lylah and her death are infamously insane. Dreamy soft-focus photography shows her dress being torn off as the characters speak in a warped slow-motion while a little circle in the lower left corner displays Novak's present day face. The whole film is a matter of taste. Those who enjoy a good cackle at audacious badness should lap it up. Others beware.
Review of The Legend of Lylah Clare
