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Even people connected with the show seem abashed by its implicit sexism. In the first few episodes, Charlie (whose face is never shown and whose voice belongs to Actor John Forsythe) is seen disporting himself with spectacular sex objects and cracking leering jokes. As a pretty snow bunny bounces past him in a ski resort, he archly informs the Angels (over the speaker phone by which he communicates with them) that the scenery reminds him of "the majestic shapes of Switzerland." Later, after an accident on the slopes, he speaks of his excellent physical therapist as another cutie slithers past the camera. He adds that he hopes he can "rise to the occasion." The show's new producer, Barney Rosenzweig, thinks such jokes are "terrible." He also claims that he will make the Angels "more involved in the key decisions. Why should they merely follow Charlie's instructions like a bunch of robots?"
Right on, says Farrah Fawcett-Majors, the spectacularly maned frosted blonde who is first among equals as a sex object, seen braless on all the shows. She has even on occasion refused to don a bikini, not because she has an objection to the costume, but because she felt the only rationale for it was that they had "reached a quiet point in the script and needed my body to liven things up."
These are small battles that she and her co-stars can often win. Overall it is hard to see how they can win the war. The show is inherently sexy and therefore, by some definitions, sexist. Says former Producer Rick Husky: "What we're talking about is a B exploitation movie, not even a B. We understood that we needed to exploit the sexuality of the three girls, and that's an obvious reason for its success." Indeed it is.
Says one TV executive: "It is S-M [sadomasochism] come to television." Producer Goldberg chortles, "We love to get them wet, because they look so good in clinging clothes"—a fact long ago noted by porn producers for whom water and mud, and women struggling in same, have long been a cliché.
What makes all this sexist nonsense just about bearable is the basic sweetness of the actresses who play the Angels. In background, they are not so different from the better-established stars with whom they compete. Though older than the Angels, Police Woman Angie Dickinson was just another beauty-contest winner who financed her acting lessons with a secretarial job until Director Howard Hawks cast her as Feathers, the dance-hall girl in his Rio Bravo. Like another Hawks discovery, Lauren Bacall, she was very feminine but very much a man's woman, easy to kid around with, pal around with—and as good as a man with a gun or a deck of cards. Those qualities have clung appealingly to Dickinson through two decades of movie work and on her TV show, which generally gets high marks from feminist viewers.