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Bette Midler: Now on TV
"A peaceful island somewhere in the South Pacific.” Natives chant chuggalugga.  A giant shell washes up on shore. The natives open the shell. And there she is, this vision, this madonna, this vixen, this harlequin, this harridan, this England. . . 

"'Whaddaya know, girls," says Bette Midler to her Harlettes, "prime-time television! A major network! They said it couldn't be done. But here I am, living proof that the moral stand­ards by which this country lives­ have died." 

She lies down on the stage; "this is my favorite position." She promises viewers "an hour devoted to the twin deities of truth and beauty," gesturing toward her breasts. "Talk about your big events!" she says. 

Bette Midler is the funniest sexy woman since Mae West. No wait, the funniest sexy woman since Lola Mon­tez. No - the funniest sexy woman since Lucrezia Borgia. 

And when she sings, she combines the sweatiness of blues with the regal­ity of a diva, the sunniness of Jean­ette MacDonald with the earthiness of Janis Joplin, the wit of Oscar Wilde with the pragmatism of William James - melodramatics on a Jolsonian scale, irreverence on a Swiftian scale, and intellectual weight on a Toledo scale. 

It doesn't even matter that her guest star, Dustin Hoffman, mutters. Or that director Dwight  doesn’t always keep up with her. Or that she becomes hoarse while singing "Hello, in There," to Emmett Kelly. 

No, it doesn't matter. It doesn't mat­ter at all. Nothing matters. Nothing matters but the Bette Midler special. They might as well give up after this one. They might as well lock up television and throwaway the key. Noth­ing will ever be able even to hope to compare with this crystal golden mo­ment of . . . 

Oh, forget it.

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The Village Gate was turned into a fraternity house last night to oblige the producers of the new film "National Lampoon's Animal House," which opened earlier in the evening at a theater uptown. Showing up at the frat party were Bette Midler, hand-holding with Peter Riegert (he's a co-star), and co-stars Donald Sutherland and John Be­lushi, exchanging phone numbers. The critique on the party isn't in yet, but Archer Winsten reviews the film on Page 27.      

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The Divine Miss M (Bette Midler to her friends) catches up on some dance steps with a obliging pal.