This slick but predictable tale of fashion-world fame resembles, by turns, a diluted version of Valley of the Dolls. Only in this valley, the only doll is black beauty Diana Ross, piloting the whole vanity vehicle like a Sherman tank. She plays Tracy Chambers, a gorgeous secretary from the mean streets of Chicago who finds fame and fortune (but alas--poignant sniffle--not happiness) as Europe's top model/designer, Mahogany ("Meeeee! Mahogany!"). As her lovely theme song flows from the soundtrack, Ms. Ross throws a tantrum in a fountain (which ends up on a Revlon billboard); does a wax-covered striptease; and wears a number of eye-popping, often hideous fashions that she designed herself, including a Sea Monkey costume and a sugar glider made out of pantyhose. But ultimately, what she really wants is love--as does every woman is this sort of film since the invention of the movie camera.
Limp though it may be, there is some enjoyment to be had for camp devotees. The photography and music are breathtaking. The cast looks great; the acting is okay, considering that everyone is forced to mouth silly, soapy dialogue about love and selfishness. There are a fair number of unintentional laughs, too, but by the end, you just won't care anymore. Really, Mahogany is about audience gratification. Basically, the film tells us that success is "Nothing But Heartaches" (to quote Diana--sorry, couldn't resist), so you may as well stay home and clean the oven. And if you believe that idiocy, I've got some prime Florida realty to sell you.
Limp though it may be, there is some enjoyment to be had for camp devotees. The photography and music are breathtaking. The cast looks great; the acting is okay, considering that everyone is forced to mouth silly, soapy dialogue about love and selfishness. There are a fair number of unintentional laughs, too, but by the end, you just won't care anymore. Really, Mahogany is about audience gratification. Basically, the film tells us that success is "Nothing But Heartaches" (to quote Diana--sorry, couldn't resist), so you may as well stay home and clean the oven. And if you believe that idiocy, I've got some prime Florida realty to sell you.