"And now, Mahogany presents
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, Mr. Gordy showcases his 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 heights of the glamour and glitter of international high fashion and plummets directly into 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 queen-y 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 of 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 and 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 where Ross is in her element as the prima donna couturierre, she parades through her workroom, 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, and the viewer sighs 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 resumes.
