Make a Face

Since there are no reviews and minimal information provided for MAKE A FACE, I feel compelled to supply what little I remember of this independent film I had the misfortune of seeing at a screening prior to its release in the summer of 1971. The only other person attending this screening was a caustic movie critic I had become friends with, and MAKE A FACE was actually worth sitting thru simply to see the expressions of horror on his face (and listening to his whispered comments, most of them unprintable). The movie was the creation of someone named Karen Sperling who modestly took 5 screen credits: for writing, directing, producing and playing the starring role in this obvious vanity production. (Her 5th credit was for playing the harpsichord on the soundtrack.) I gather the movie was autobiographical, since it devoted 90 minutes observing her life as a single young woman (mid-20s, I would guess) existing in New York City. The problem was that there was absolutely nothing the slightest bit interesting about it (the movie) or her (an aspiring auteurist, I presume). The only thing I wondered about was where in God's name did she get the money to commit this nonsense to celluloid. Fortunately, my critic friend knew everything about the famous and not-so-famous in the film industry, and informed me that Karen Sperling came from a very well-heeled movie family and that her father had been quite a successful producer during Hollywood's golden era. So he obviously gave her enough moolah to not only make the damned movie, but also rent the theater where it played very briefly (the reviews in the 3 NYC newspapers were killers!)and pay the prestigious p.r. firm Rogers, Cowan & Brenner a handsome sum to drum up media interest in Ms. Sperling and her movie (unfortunately, there wasn't any). I don't mean to sound unkind. The film's production values and cinematography were certainly professional and, among the few supporting actors, an appealing young newcomer (in the thankless role of the heroine's boyfriend) named Nicolas Surovy did a nice job and seemed destined for a bright future (which he achieved--check out his IMDb coverage). Ms. Sperling was, alas, never heard of or seen again--as a filmmaker or actress, that is. I still remember Roger Greenspun's droll review in the NY Times, however. While unable to encourage her ambitions as a filmmaker, he admitted he found her quite attractive and, assessing the potential of her future boyfriends, concluded: "The line forms at the left"!