EVER since the word got out about his tell-all documentary, ''Born Rich,'' Jamie Johnson, a 23-year-old heir to the Johnson & Johnson pharmaceutical fortune, says his social life hasn't been the same.

''There are no more engraved invitations to debutante parties for girls I don't know with, like, five middle names,'' Mr. Johnson said. ''I guess I used to be considered an eligible bachelor. But not anymore.'' Mr. Johnson, who lives in a ground floor one-bedroom apartment on a noisy stretch of Second Avenue in the East Village -- even though he could afford much more impressive digs -- recalled a party for a friend in Southampton last summer at which he found himself surrounded by a pack of ''Ivy League bankers from privileged families'' calling him an ''idiot'' and a ''traitor to your class.''

''They were drunk and wouldn't let up,'' said Mr. Johnson. ''It happens every time I see them out at night.'' Such are the perils of making a film that is the rich-kid equivalent of Truman Capote's unfinished novel ''Answered Prayers,'' a thinly veiled account of misbehaving Park Avenue society in the 1960's and 70's. But instead of whispered gossip about scandalous love affairs from the banquettes of La Côte Basque, ''Born Rich'' tackles an even more off-limits taboo: money.

The film will be shown at the Hamptons Film Festival on Oct. 24 and broadcast on HBO on Oct. 27 as part of its America Undercover series. Filmed over two years and semi-notorious even before it was first shown at the Sundance Film Festival in January, the film chronicles Mr. Johnson's search, on the eve of coming into a large inheritance on his 21st birthday, to avoid becoming a cliché of the dissolute, aimless heir. He said he had lousy male role models: his father, James Loring Johnson, is shown on camera as a spacey artist who appears to be a recluse, and his grandfather, the sculptor J. Seward Johnson Jr., was consumed by ugly estate battles and bitter divorces.