Hooked on Dolls. The Valley of the Dolls DVD.

I saw this movie for the first time in the early 1970s. I was babysitting, the kids were asleep, and I watched it on a color TV with a rabbit ear antenna as I consumed Pepsi and a huge bag of potato chips. It was a transforming moment. For while I had heard the book and movie were racy, scandalous and poorly done, none of the adults I knew who whispered about it ever acknowledged how really, really FUNNY this sucker is. And that night I was enchanted by the camp of it, what a riot it was, and realized "the Generation Gap" extended to more than just music.

The two disc set is a celebration of everything that makes this movie (unintentionally) great. The beautiful clothes. The back-combed hair. The "serendipitous" plot (Anne gets the first job she interviews for, then moves effortlessly from secretary to supermodel). The stupid songs ("this is my yard and I will try hard to welcome friends I have yet to know"). The horrific dialog ("Broadway doesn't go for booze and dope." "What the hell! Let 'em sag." "How do you like that? It won't even go down the john!" "Neely, you're being ob-nox-ious.") Plus extras. Screen tests. Karaoke. It's a completely irresistible wallow.

It's impossible to stress out about my mounting appliance bills, or impending work deadlines and presentations, or Mark Prior's problems on the mound when I'm watching Barbara Parkins tumble glamorously into the surf and then decide to kick "the dolls." Back home in Lawrenceville. With Aunt Amy. You go, girl! And thanks for the respite.