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Rather notorious in its time for its "frankness" and its envelope-pushing (for television) nudity, The Sex Symbol today seems incredibly tame -- and really rather trashy. Aficionados of ridiculous biopics will get quite a kick out of Sex; it's one of those films that tries to cover way too much territory in far too little time, resulting in dialogue that "cuts to the chase" in the most earnest and amusing fashion. There's no time or room for finesse, for dialogue that reveals character rather than shouting about it, for dealing in subtleties rather than enormously broad strokes -- there's only time for clichéd dialogue and trite situations. It doesn't help matters that Connie Stevens, who could actually do very well in certain light comedy parts, is totally wrong for this Marilyn Monroe stand-in. She tries quite hard, but the gulf between Stevens and Monroe is far too wide to fill. Shelley Winters is also on hand to chew some scenery shamelessly, with Don Murray trying to keep up but coming across as rather dull despite all his effort. David Lowell Rich directs with half an eye on camp value, which is perhaps the best approach to take; for those wanting to have a good, amusing wallow, Sex is a lot of fun. But for those looking for a great drama or an incisive portrait of Hollywood, Sex is a big disappointment.