The show runs against The Wonderful
World of Disney in the 7:30 slot on Sunday night, and there is
something wackily inspired about this amusing little coincidence that
the CBS programmers have arranged. Just standing there on her runway,
half-clad in one of the twelve to 15 costumes Cher Sarkesian Bono
wears out every broadcast hour, she inspires more —and infinitely
richer—fantasies than all the plastics of Disneyland. Indeed, it is
barely possible that Cher in Cher may —with a little help from the
many shrewd friends who so elaborately package her each week—redefine
that grand old American cant phrase, “family entertainment.” For if her
style is at odds with that of the competition, the fact remains that
like everyone who aspires to success when all of America is still
awake, she must offer a little something for every member of the
family. What is different about Cher is that every member of the family
may not feel like discussing the message he or she is getting from her
with the rest of the household. For Dad she appears to be a sex sym: bol, impure
and simple as her long, sinuous body—high fashion, but with some meat
on her smoothly articulated bones —slithers into closeup, her navel
twinkling as invitingly as her sequins. Then, however, a shy smile
splits her deadpan. As she speaks a few words of earnest greeting in
her curiously flat voice, Pop and the other males see they can afford
to relax. Underneath all that finery and a ceramic of makeup there is a
rather awkward, imperfectly beautiful girl. She appears no more
daunting than the nice new kid in the secretarial pool or your home
room when she finally talks to you —someone, perhaps, who could use a
little protecting. As for Mrs. America, she has a choice. If she is into liberation, she
can see Cher bravely soloing as a variety-show star after the breakup
of the Sonny and Cher partnership as a blow for
emancipation. It may even be a vindication of sorts. Sonny, who had the
reputation of being Cher's Svengali, suffered the ignominy of having
his solo show canceled in midseason, not long before Cher rose into
Nielsen's top ten. If sexual politics is not Mom's bag, then she can
sit back and relax while enjoying the fashion show and some mildly
envious fantasies about the corps of hairdressers and beauticians
required to construct such a perfect example of feminine artifice. Mother is joined by the group that forms the heart of Cher's fan
club—girls who are sub-teen and even younger. For them she is, in the
current phrase, “jive.” Cher proves that at least one American dream
lives: she gives evidence that show biz can still reach out among the
adolescent millions and—with a little luck and a lot of
hype—transform a mildly talented young woman into a hot,
multimillion-dollar property. And that the chosen one gets to have
inch-long fingernails for a trademark, if she wants to.
