April 07, 1986 12:00 PM

NBC (Sun., April 6, 9 p.m. ET)

Faye Dunaway, in the title role, pulled herself up by the bra straps to lead a life of luxurious lace and limos as the madam to Senators, stars, princes, ambassadors and oil execs. Hers was a Whoratio Alger story. But now she’s got trouble. One of her hookers, Melody (Policewoman Centerfold) Anderson, is hooked on hooch. Another, Robin Givens as a ditzy dancer, is constantly late to bed—that is, late to work. The best of her $1,000-a-night bunch—Donna (Bosom Buddies) Dixon as a law student, a tart among torts—is pregnant. Then there’s Terry Farrell, the new kid from Nebraska. Faye brings sweet Terry into her harem-for-hire and teaches Terry the trade of tricks. “I’m rough on my girls,” Faye says with imploded cheeks and full Mommie Dearest authority—and you believe her. Terry’s first assignment is to relieve a rich kid of his virginity; she falls in love with him; he dumps her. Then Terry wants out. When you’re in this business, she complains, “you’re a piece of meat.” (That’s just what Terry was called when she played a model in Paper Dolls. The poor kid is making a career as a veal chop.) The plot is about as substantial as a Frederick’s of Hollywood wardrobe. But who needs plot when you have a movie filled with loot, lust and loveliness? Beverly Hills Madam is spectacular trash. I don’t feel right giving such a tawdry bauble an A, putting it in the same ranks with Bleak House and Disney movies. So I’ll inaugurate a new mark for trash that’s Grade A: T & A

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