Her youth and naivety was the whole theme of this story. The innocent 17-year old Canadian receiving the dreaded proposition "I could get you into modelling", and then suddenly finding she was Playmate of the Month, courtesy of a fellow-Canadian agent called Paul Snider, whom she hadn't sized-up very carefully before marrying him out of gratitude, rather than love.
Hugh Hefner must have found Dorothy to be refreshingly wholesome compared to the hard-bitten hookers who hung around the Playboy Mansion in search of a sugar-daddy. But he found Paul to be anything but wholesome - a failed hustler without a Green Card, permanently broke - and made it clear that he wasn't welcome. Paul managed to persuade a sinister L. A. club-owner, Steve Banerjee, to include him on the team, but his proposal to put on a women's mud-wrestling show, an old favourite with working-class audiences in New Orleans, turns out quite wrong for the upmarket clientele that Steve is trying to cultivate. And meanwhile Dorothy has been talent-spotted by film-producer Peter Bogdanovich, for whom she plans to leave her husband...
This is the love triangle that the LAPD have to unravel when Dorothy and Paul are both found dead in their bedroom in what looks like a murder-suicide - except for Paul's unusual posture, lying forward on the weapon, when you would expect him to have been propelled backward by the force of the shot. For this reason, they start looking elsewhere for the killer.
And there we have to leave you in suspense, for fear of giving away too much. This version replicates the text of the voiceover in the form of sub-titles that pop-up about two seconds after the audio, so it's only the deaf who won't find it irritating. And several interruptions for 'The Story So Far' should certainly have been edited-out of this 45-minute show.
Finally, an otherwise insightful Hollywood historian (Scott Michaels) makes a very strange comment about Bogdanovich: "Peter spent time at the Playboy mansion. He knew his way around women." That is not at all my impression of the Playboy crowd, right up to Hefner himself. They are precisely the ones who understand nothing about relationships, and are stuck at the schoolboy stage, fixed on a plastic heaven full of superficial appeal - with gangland pulling the strings.
Hugh Hefner must have found Dorothy to be refreshingly wholesome compared to the hard-bitten hookers who hung around the Playboy Mansion in search of a sugar-daddy. But he found Paul to be anything but wholesome - a failed hustler without a Green Card, permanently broke - and made it clear that he wasn't welcome. Paul managed to persuade a sinister L. A. club-owner, Steve Banerjee, to include him on the team, but his proposal to put on a women's mud-wrestling show, an old favourite with working-class audiences in New Orleans, turns out quite wrong for the upmarket clientele that Steve is trying to cultivate. And meanwhile Dorothy has been talent-spotted by film-producer Peter Bogdanovich, for whom she plans to leave her husband...
This is the love triangle that the LAPD have to unravel when Dorothy and Paul are both found dead in their bedroom in what looks like a murder-suicide - except for Paul's unusual posture, lying forward on the weapon, when you would expect him to have been propelled backward by the force of the shot. For this reason, they start looking elsewhere for the killer.
And there we have to leave you in suspense, for fear of giving away too much. This version replicates the text of the voiceover in the form of sub-titles that pop-up about two seconds after the audio, so it's only the deaf who won't find it irritating. And several interruptions for 'The Story So Far' should certainly have been edited-out of this 45-minute show.
Finally, an otherwise insightful Hollywood historian (Scott Michaels) makes a very strange comment about Bogdanovich: "Peter spent time at the Playboy mansion. He knew his way around women." That is not at all my impression of the Playboy crowd, right up to Hefner himself. They are precisely the ones who understand nothing about relationships, and are stuck at the schoolboy stage, fixed on a plastic heaven full of superficial appeal - with gangland pulling the strings.
