If you didn't know about Marvin Gaye's divorce, one look at the cover of Here, My Dear would be enough to guess the plot of this home-movie soap. Fake Rodin love sculptures litter a Greco-Roman courtyard bounded by two plaques, one inscribed "Love and Marriage," the other "Pain and Divorce." In front stands Marvin himself, a bogus Socrates gone toga party, inviting us to drink from his own very bitter cup. Pretentious is too good a word for this clutter. What happened to the sharp eye responsible for the exhilarating blur—Gaye's red knit cap as soul icon—of the Let's Get It On cover?

Gaye is no stranger to bad taste—remember the "sex voices" in "You Sure Love To Ball" or the mercury-tunafish line in "Mercy, Mercy Me"? But Here, My Dear goes somewhat beyond or below these small outrages. The spoken intro makes it clear...