Robert Aldrich, one of the least subtle directors ever, made one of his most outlandish and personal films in 1968, The Legend of Lylah Clare. The130 minute Tinseltown tale was taken from a 60 minute ‘63 TV drama. Aldrich loved showbiz gothic—imagine The Big Knife, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, and The Legend of Lylah Clare in a triple feature.

This type of hothouse Hollywood story was out of style by the late '60s, when gritty new movie realism had taken hold. What we have here is a Sunset Boulevard-esque show biz mystery: What Really Happened to Lylah Clare?

Kim Novak plays the legendary title character AND wannabe Elsa Brinkmann. Lylah’s agent, Bart Langner, who discovered the late star, comes across the dead ringer starlet. Thinking he’s struck lightning twice, Bart takes her to Lewis Zarken, Lylah’s late director—and husband, for a day! Skeptical, he runs roughshod over Elsa, though she turns out to be a diamond in the rough. Soon, the starlet is groomed to play Lylah in a big screen bio epic. Along the way, Elsa starts channeling Lylah that borders on obsession…or possession? To describe the byzantine plot any further would require many spoilers and a flow chart.

While Tuesday Weld played TV’s Lylah as a Marilyn Monroe-esque type, Kim's movie Lylah is written as a Garbo/Dietrich-esque icon. Both Lylahs are controlled by a domineering director and claustrophobic Hollywood mindset. The TV version focuses on what Hollywood does to fragile personalities, having been filmed a year after Marilyn Monroe's sudden and shocking death. The expanded movie version gives director Aldrich ample opportunity to take his pot shots at Hollywood, both old and new. Some criticisms are still relevant today, like moviemaking as a mainly tie-in venture, the public's acceptance of anything that's dished up to them as truth, etc. And old Hollywood gets skewered with their crass moguls, bitchy gossip columnists, and movie legends with lurid off-screen lives. 

With the exception of Kim Novak, the cast cannot be faulted for the mind-bending awfulness of The Legend of Lylah Clare. It's the absurd, literal screenplay. Robert Thom wrote the original teleplay, but some Aldrich associates with slim resumes wrote the film screenplay, along with Bob’s heavy hand, no doubt.

The supporting cast plays types, often stereotypes, but they get the job done. Peter Finch has great fun as the egotistical director, based on Svengali-types of Hollywood past like Josef von Sternberg, Mauritz Stiller, and Erich von Stroheim. Peter's at his most rugged, silver fox best, and he's quite convincing in this cartoonish role. Notice how Peter Finch in flashback as the evil genius sports the same goatee as Kenneth Branagh in his flashbacks from Dead Again. Finch has the film’s most absurd lines and relishes every one of them! Yet, in the few moments of melancholy, Finch is genuinely touching.

Everyone assumed that Coral Browne as Molly Luther was playing a mix of Louella Parsons, with her grumpy cat face, and Hedda Hopper, all queen bee snappishness. Perhaps, but it's also a takeoff on lesser-known columnist Radie Harris, who had a wooden leg due to a childhood riding accident, and was usually in a wheelchair. Ironically, Browne was sued by Harris years prior, when she publicly asked Radie how it felt to have showbiz at her FOOT. Browne lost, but got her revenge later!

Rossella Falk is quite convincing as ... Rossella! The drug addict lesbian loves Lylah, but seems to have a love/hate feeling toward Zorken, is an interesting character. Why does she stick around and put up with the director’s abuse—the drugs, their secrets? Falk makes this all very believable and empathetic.

Ernest Borgnine has a ball hamming it up as the forever shouting movie mogul, Barney Sheean. His exact opposite, mild-mannered Michael Murphy, plays the son, who wants to make films! Aldrich fave George Kennedy has a cameo as Lylah's co-star in a movie within a movie of Anna Christie. 

Of the huge cast, the one big problem is Kim Novak. As mousy Elsa Brinkmann, Kim is vulnerable and awkward in the Vertigo mold. Kim's face and figure found her aging far more beautifully than such screen beauties as Rita, Ava, and Liz. However, Kim was 35 and a bit long in the tooth to be playing an aspiring actress. Sharon Tate, a decade younger, might have been a better choice. But that's the least of Kim's problems as Lylah Clare.

Once Kim gives up Elsa's dowdy clothes and long brownish wig, Novak gets the Hollywood makeover and is transformed into the late, great Lylah Clare. Kim Novak also seems to have her own version of Wigstock going on in Lylah Clare.Kim looks fab in the Renié wardrobe and sports a variety of puffy platinum wigs and falls, accented with Novak's trademark black eyeliner and frosted lipstick. Oh, wait, isn't Kim supposed to be playing an old-time Hollywood star? Novak's about as convincing a '30s star as Carroll Baker was as Harlow. Authenticity apparently wasn’t “in” during the '60s.

Though Kim looks more like Dusty Springfield than Hollywood golden era, Novak handles the gorgeous part, but doesn't have the flair to play the flamboyant film diva. As Lylah seems to possess Elsa, Kim throws her head back to laugh so far and wide, that you can see all of her fillings. And out from her mouth spouts a baritone German accent that sounds more like Mercedes McCambridge in The Exorcist than Hildegard Knef mimicking Marlene Dietrich. The dubbing comes off especially bad because it seems broadcast in Stereophonic sound compared to Kim’s whisper! The excruciating dialogue makes the accent sound even more absurd: "Keep your FEEL-THEE hands off me!" And her bwah-hah-hah laugh makes me think of Rocky and Bullwinkle's Natasha Badenov! Finally, in the flashbacks, the voices are slowed down, making the dubbed baritone sound especially bizarre. It’s all insane, and instantly undercuts Novak, who looks helpless as the late volatile screen siren.

Elizabeth Taylor and Bette Davis dished up over the top self-parodies in Boom! and The Anniversary in ’68. Lana Turner and Jennifer Jones were oblivious in their late '60s camp misadventures, The Big Cube and Angel, Angel, Down We Go. But Kim seems painfully aware that she's out of her depth in Lylah Clare. She doesn't just cruise along in like Lana and Jen, or ride the wheels off like Liz and Bette. Novak looks like she wants to leap out of her vehicle!

The last act of Lylah Clare takes the cinema cake. The circus climax that “explains” Lylah’s mysterious death is beyond absurd. The film within a film finale at the premiere is a major eye roll. And the gun-wielding Rossella watching a deranged dog food commercial in the last scene is beyond “what the hell?!”

Gossip girl Molly Luther asks Zorken, “Aren't you borrowing from Sunset Boulevard?” Yes, and Vertigo, and Baby Jane, too. And as usual, Aldrich’s film is at least 15 minutes too long.

That insane soundtrack by DeVol, especially the theme, is like being put on hold by ‘60s showbiz hell. The music seems more suitable for a sitcom or romantic comedy, not a Hollywood horror story.

I loved all the paintings of Kim as Lylah Clare, which makes me wonder if artist Novak got to keep any mementos. Jaroslav Gebr is the same artist who did the paintings for the Night Gallery pilot, including the famous Joan Crawford painting, and the nostalgic title cards for The Sting.

Director Robert Aldrich deserves credit for owning up to this debacle and for his mishandling of Kim Novak. Classic film fans will probably find The Legend of Lylah Clare fascinating to watch. More casual movie fans will probably reach for the remote!

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