Zee and Co. (1972)

If you don't like this, we can't be friends.

Don't listen to the negative reviews

A movie that not only functions as a solid scarefest but a razor-sharp satire.

By the time the dramatic fireworks start popping off, each one feels earned.

I have an iron-clad rule that any movie with slo-mo is a dog. It's usually a bad sports-themed movie that needs slo-mo to make things seem more dramatic than they really are. It could be a romantic movie where two lovers ran slo-mo across a beach toward each other's out-stretched arms. In this case it's two lovers playing a sport (ping-pong) over the opening credits. And sure enough, the movie is a bowzer. Especially laughable is watching two members of the Elvis Presley generation cavorting to faux rock & roll. There's a little fake Beatles (OK, Ravi Shankar) and some fake Led Zeppelin, and who knows what else. Susannah York is as inert is radon. At certain points I thought Michael Caine was about to fall asleep. At least Liz games it up in that fright wig. She deserved better material.

"X, Y & Zee" is a timepiece from that awkward, transitional period in Elizabeth Taylor's career when her legendary Hollywood glamour began to give way to a more earthy blowsiness. Unfortunately, her film choices during this phase suggest a disinterest in doing any actual acting and more of a penchant for taking on roles that suited her personal needs (exotic locations, proximity to husband and family, size of paycheck, etc.)If the title "X, Y & Zee" suggests a love triangle, then you'll know all there is to know about this colorful but airless game of sexual one-upmanship where the clothes and decor are more interesting than the people inhabiting them. Two years later Hal Ashby's "Shampoo" would skewer these amoral, directionless types more entertainingly.Perhaps thinking she had a mod, swinging London update of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" on her hands, Taylor as Zee once again allows herself to be cast as the braying, shrill harpy to a weak, watery-eyed husband (the always charming Michael Caine). Taylor and Caine have one of those functional dysfunctional marriages that are probably an accurate representation of what comprise many so-called happy marriages. Regrettably neither performer is able to make me believe that they were ever a couple in the first place. They just don't fit. That wounded hound dog Richard Burton would have been much better.Anyhow, things get shaken up pretty quickly once Caine sets eyes on pretty, husky-voiced boutique owner, Susannah York and starts romancing her right under Taylor's heavily made-up nose.As the trio uncomfortably navigate the decidedly choppy waters of love and sex, the film struggles mightily to be bitchy and witty and NOW but never heats up much and has nothing up its sleeve but a pretty nice final act (it probably was a good deal more daring back in 1972). York, as always is an exceptionally interesting actress, but her character sometimes makes even less sense than Taylor's and Caine's. For me, the single most fascinating element of the film was Susannah York's shag haircut. What a weird hairstyle. Glistening, shining, intricately layered and geometrically perfect, it is the one image that has stayed with me long after the film had ended.

When "X Y & Z" opened in New York, it faced unanimous horrible reviews from the film critics. Rex Reed gave it a zero and went after Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Caine, Susannah York and Margaret Leighton with a vengeance.Rex went on about the new wave of sex in the movies and said about this movie: "Well, sex is back in "X Y & Zee," as wretched and slimy a pail of slop as I've ever seen dumped on a movie screen, with the misguided Elizabeth Taylor playing chief pig in the pig sty..."X Y & Zee" is a depraved lesbian horror film with flabby, oatmeal-colored Michael Caine trying vainly to out-weight and out-scream the bloated Miss Taylor before they both get thrown out of the Screen Actors Guild." Believe me, he said plenty more.Me, the fool, went out and saw this on a double bill and wish I had listened to Mr. Reed. If you were among the pot smokers and free love people who staggered out of the 60s wearing your "I Hate Doris Day" tee shirts, you probably got a big kick out of this trash. I left the theatre disgusted.

... but without Edward Ablee's Pulitzer Prize winning touch. Taylor is firing on all eight cylinders again, as she did against Burton's George. This time 'George' is a remote, self-centered, enterprising individual and often on mute control around his tiger wife.You quickly get a belly full of Taylor's ranting and antics - but there are real performance gems strewn around. And you wonder why in the world York's character with her quiet temperament and lifestyle would risk getting consumed alive by two battling idiots. If it was for the excitement, a crash landing was her sad reward.Nevertheless, this forgotten film is worth watching just to see the three talented principals on the same set together go through their paces.