Do you enjoy watching Oscar-winners destroy their reputations? Do you ever wonder where the makers of "Showgirls" got the inspiration for character, plot, and dialogue? Have you ever wondered just how bad an expensive Hollywood product about Hollywood could be? Are you ready to hear Dionne Warwick sing an atrocious theme song so many times you'll want to kick in your television set? Welcome to the "Valley of the Dolls."

Patty Duke plays Neely O'Hara, a talented singer and dancer (whose "talents" are performed by stand-ins, a la "Flashdance") who gets thrown out of a Broadway show by Susan Hayward, an established star and all around dragon lady of the stage. Deciding to keep her "dignity" (too late, Patty), Duke goes it alone on a low rent, Jerry Lewis-esque telethon where she lip-synchs badly and actually tries to do her own dancing. (Remember Elaine boogeying down on "Seinfeld"? You get the picture.) Of course, this makes her an instant star.

Also along for the ride are virtuous Barbara Parkins (who is shocked, shocked! at all the repellant behavior here but gets most of the movie's trashy sex scenes) and Sharon Tate, the no-talent bimbo who at least has the good sense to realize she is the no-talent bimbo. (Tate's one-way phone conversations with her deadbeat mother are some of the movie's hilarious highlights.)

Suddenly, years pass, and everyone moves to Los Angeles. Duke becomes "the biggest box office draw in the country" (yeah, right), Parkins lands a modeling gig with a cosmetics company (with an ad campaign that has to be seen to be believed), and Tate marries an Italian crooner who is, dontcha know, about to go catatonic from a brain disease. (Everyone in this flick seems to be suffering from the same malady.)

Duke starts acting like the Hayward-style dragon lady she was meant to be, tossing cigarette butts into her swimming pool, ordering her husband around like a servant, and sleeping with costume designers. When she turns into a complete lush and pill-popper, Parkins tries to help Duke change her ways. Duke thanks her, of course, by sleeping with Parkins' boyfriend. What a pal.

Duke is joined in rehab, inexplicably, by Tate's out-of-it husband. When they sing an inmate duet, keep the rewind button handy. Watching this scene too often, however, may cause fainting spells.

Tate, meanwhile, is forced (by her sister-in-law!) to become a porn star in order to pay for her husband's hospital bills. (Don't miss the clip of the French, um, "art film" Tate stars in.) Then, as if things could get any worse, Tate develops a lump in her breast and commits suicide. Well, hey, at least she didn't have to stick around until the end.

Parkins, to deal with all the tragedy, starts popping her own set of pills, and, as the Dionne Warwick theme song plays on the soundtrack for the ump-teenth time, she collapses head first onto the beach, mud flowing all over her face. This is sort of symbolic of the whole movie, actually.

Then comes the best scene in the flick, the part that earns "Valley of the Dolls" its legendary reputation. Duke shows up at a premiere party for Hayward's new show, uninvited of course, and has it out with her nemesis in the ladies' room. Susan: "Get outta my way, I got a man waitin' for me." Patty: "That's a switch from the fags you're usually stuck with." Susan: "At least I never had to marry one." This last bit of cattiness enrages Duke so much, she yanks Hayward's wig off and flushes it down the toilet.

Unable to deal with her comeback success, Duke pops a truckload of pills -- two minutes before curtain time at her new show's premiere! -- and ruins her chances of becoming a star again. In the end, she drags herself through a grungy alley in her costume, screaming at God, herself, her ex-husbands, and everyone else in the movie. (Did she forget to mention the director?)

Parkins, unable to deal with the drugged-out ho she has become, goes back to the small town she left behind and refuses to take back her unfaithful ex. Then she takes a meaningful walk in the woods as the credits roll, with that stupid Dionne Warwick song playing AGAIN.

This is, quite possibly, the worst movie of the sixties, but watching these three starlets parade through all the sleaze is so entertaining, you'll never be able to get enough.

Rating: five turkeys.

Best line: "I'm merely travelling incognito!"

Things that make you go "Huh?": That a go-go cosmetics ad campaign.