Sparsely plotted sequel to National Velvet, strung together with the most verbose narration heard outside a Jacques Cousteau underwater documentary. Most of its "adult" and common-sensible innovations merely undermine the fairy-tale quality of the original: for instance, the stepfather writing pornographic novels under the pen name "Jacques Delacroix" in order to foot the bill for the heroine's riding lessons; or the replacement of the neck-and-neck thrills of the steeplechase with the more tight-reined tensions of Olympic-style equestrianism. Obviously, a great chance for emotional resonance was lost when the filmmakers failed to enlist Elizabeth Taylor to resume her own role, thirty-odd years later, and settled on Nanette Newman in her place. Newman is not bad, but, in every sense, she carries less weight. All in all, this shaky-legged movie is played with admirable conviction. Anthony Hopkins and Christopher Plummer are entertaining, as always, in their frilly way, and Tatum O'Neal is quite frighteningly self-assured in a role that stretches from ten years old, pigtails, and braces, to eighteen, independence, and wedlock. Directed by Bryan Forbes. (1978) — Duncan Shepherd
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