Although the author (Who Killed Sal Mineo?, 1982) idles through some watery musings about the single female's mid-life crises, and there's some potentially offensive Biblical matter, this is on the whole a funny Sennet-style chase-and-skid caper featuring a Manhattan-based movie exec, a brace of gifted, flaky creatives, and assorted piratical studio manipulators. Carol Young at 40 is just where she wants to be, an East Coast exec who pays her own bills, loves her apartment and her young sidekick/secretary Rosemary, whom she rescued from prostitution. And Carol is now producing the movie she's dreamt about for years. This epic is Jesus the Prophet, which, Carol feels, will sound the final gong for anti-Semitism. But life lately has soured: lover Barry is a tiresome mesh of hurt feelings, and there's dire news from Israel, where the Prophet is filming. Anita, Wonder Woman director and Carol's old Bryn Mawr buddy, has disappeared; Jack, the Prince of Charm, in his first serious role as Jesus, hates Anita, wants out of the movie; 251 crew members are on hold; Carol's boss Michael tolls the bell; a rival wants her job; and there's a new director on tap. So it's off to Israel to arrange a truce between perpetually stoned Anita and glowering Jack. Then, one catastrophic shooting of the crucifixion, and Jack takes off like a rocket, heading for open sea. ""But I knew what Carole Lombard would do on the trail of Clark Gable."" It's hellzapoppin', a strange idyll with an idol, and a Rosemary scare before the close when Carol and Rosemary (""not the daughter she imagined nor a sister, but a part of her life"") popcorn-it at the local cinema. It's just possible a few readers could attach names to the two principals--but who cares? Easy jujube entertainment.