[THE LOVE MACHINE -(1971)- Widescreen - directed by Jack Haley Jr.] I don't care what anyone says, this flick is a lot more cultishly campy than 'Dolls', and a lot more trashy, tawdry and downright shoddy. Sleaze that aims to please, yessir. And I mean that in the most favorable way possible. John Phillip Law in his most animated role I've seen as a TV news anchor (known as the Love Machine), sleeping with every floozy imaginable, as he ascends to the top of a respected television network, only to self-destruct in half the time of the proverbial New York minute.The women involved are star-banging, back-biting, gossip-mongering, flat-backing, deliciously disingenuous and calloused carnivores who make this film a festival of frightening conduct and mannerless man-grabbing, god bless them. Naturally, the supreme-deity of depravity is Dyan Cannon, who makes the price of admission worthwhile in and of herself. As gloriously bitchy, needy and manipulative as the other femme fatales are, the film would be worthless without Dyan's charismatic presence and cut-throat contributions. She literally owns the final act of this cinematic sewage, elevating it not to art or a good film, but a delightful expedition into the seamier side of a seedy world we love to wallow in and hate. Therein lays its value and virtue. No more, no less - no one in their right mind approaches this film or novel seeking art or esthetics except the exceedingly delusional.Sure, there's much to chastise here but remember, this is a Jacqueline Susann novel with Jackie presiding over the proceedings (insisting as such as she despised what Hollywood did with her 'Dolls' film) and what did she really know about filmmaking? Bubkas. Even with the studio hiring Jack Haley Jr. ('That's Entertainment!') as director, this trainwreck was predestined to be the trash it was always touted to be. But it's transcendent trash in hindsight, a carwreck we can't turn away from as we search the wreckage for carnage and bloodshed. And that's where we aren't disappointed here, not by a longshot.David Hemmings in a great role as a gay photographer, Shecky Greene at his slimiest as a TV comedienne host, Jackie Cooper as an elder programming exec soon on his way out, Robert Ryan as Dyan Cannon's older husband and network head, and Maureen Arthur, Claudia Jennings, Jodi Wexler and Sharon Farrell as the feral felines all make certain we don't stay bored or indifferent to the time-honored clichés on display for too long. For a trashpic, there's not a lot of nudity and the ever-present exploitative element appears a bit tame, even by early 70's standards (eg. 'Beyond the Valley of the Dolls'), but there is enough lowbrow camp to keep most of the core audience appeased. My generosity after seeing this flick is going overboard by giving this one five stars, but those of you who appreciate solid 70's celluloid sleaze will probably agree...