Video Reviews

MAHOGANY

“And now, Mahogany presentsí ‘The Kabuki Finale!’ ” This is the movie that made me want to be a fashion designer and a drag queen. Who else would be able to sit through this tripe? But if you’re a designer or a drag queen, or at least play one on TV, this is delectable tripe. Just like in Mommie Dearest, when you know you’re looking into the heart of Joan Crawford, Mahogany makes you feel as if you’re looking into the heart of Diana Ross. A vanity production to beat all vanity productions, Mahogany showcases Mr. Gordy’s star (who was also his lover and, we now know, mother of his child) in her first non-singing film — her only other film being Lady Sings The Blues. In this self-serving tale of the perils of stardom, Diana, as Tracy Chambers, scales the glamorous, glittering heights of international high fashion and plummets directly into the Bad Movie Hall of Fame. Tracy is in school to be a fashion designer, and we know this because we see her riding the bus around town sketching big drag-queeny outfits. But one humiliating interview follows another (Diana excels in demonstrating humiliation — lots of teeth gnashing and tossing her head), and life looks grim. Even the local neighborhood activist (this is the Seventies) — played by the devastatingly handsome, but not deeply talented, Billy Dee Williams — holds no charms for her. He wants to make the world a better place, and she just wants to make it a prettier place. Just when things seem hopeless, her job in the display department of a local department store puts her in the line of vision of a famous but unstable fashion photographer, played to extreme by Anthony Perkins. Perkins mistakes Ross for a fashion model and is smitten by her beauty and her commercial possibilities. He assigns her the name Mahogany (since he names all of his women after inanimate objects), and she skyrockets, amidst much of Miss Ross’ signature teeth gnashing, to the very pinnacle of the high-fashion scene. Unsatisfied with such superficial glory, and intent on furthering her own design career, Tracy/Mahogany slips one of her own designs into a fashion show she’s modeling in. It is a hysterical, yet painful moment as the crowd falls silent and Mahogany is left on the stage in complete embarrassment. But the day is saved by an older Italian gentleman who becomes her lover and mentor. He bankrolls a design house for her, of course, and she scores another major success. This leads to a particularly favorite scene of mine in which Ross is in her element — as the prima donna couturierre, she parades through her work room, issuing demands and dictums, and eventually becomes entirely unglued, shrieking and cursing at her workers who, not speaking English, have no idea what she’s carrying on about. This scene seems to sum up Ross herself, as so many in this movie do, and she is utterly delightful — but not in a pleasant way. Of course, it’s inevitable that Mahogany will chuck her entire career in the trash and go home to Mr. Right, having learned her lesson about the ugly business of beautiful clothes. The viewer breathes a sigh of palpable relief that this movie, this monument to egotism, has finally come to an end. Writing credits go to John Byrum and Bob Merrill. I don’t imagine that they put this movie on their résumés.

This article appears in July 7 • 2000.