I go nutz over a good mystery or spy story. Eric Ambler served up both for decades. Spies: On the Simplon-Orient Express - Take note, he says, of those...moreI go nutz over a good mystery or spy story. Eric Ambler served up both for decades. Spies: On the Simplon-Orient Express - Take note, he says, of those who have no prob w passports/customs: "Those are the spies." Spy spots? Istanbul, Tangiers, Bangkok, the Ile du Levant were once keen. As for the gentle art of murder, Ambler details the 1960 Covina, Ca., case of Dr Finch & Carole Tregoff who were accused of killing the MDs wife. The trial involved lust, greed, hired killers. A circus ensued. Ambler, asked to do an article, says LA made the most of it, as it usually does w murder. Are the two alive today? They went to jail for life. The Finch-Tregoff saga is juicy movie material.
Ambler offers acidic comments on the dopey press. Of the '50s, he recalls: "One of the reasons why McCarthy was able so rapidly and so easily to lie his way to power was that everything he said was faithfully reported." An American reporter feels obliged to report what someone has said - even if he knows that it is a lie, Ambler adds with concern. It's up to the reader to decide for himself. NYT shrugged off the issue. The NYer countered, he tells us, "That's rather like saying if a restaurant serves poisoned food, it's up to the diner to refuse it." (I think of this today when absurdists like Ann Coulter get air-time).
Ambler includes an off-topic commentary on writing for the movies. (He wrote scripts and late-life married Hitchcock associate Joan Harrison). Between scripter and his audience are producer, director, actors, director of photography, film editor and sound engineer. The resultant hurly-burly is a conflict of egos and interests, notes Ambler, who's so damned erudite that he makes you almost like what he calls the "aberrant minority." Lo, they're always with us. (less)
For WW2 espionage buffs, Goldsmith's story as a Brit agent in France is a wondrous non-fiction thriller of derring-do. Published in 1971, it may be hard...moreFor WW2 espionage buffs, Goldsmith's story as a Brit agent in France is a wondrous non-fiction thriller of derring-do. Published in 1971, it may be hard to track down, but it's worth the effort. This is the real stuff.(less)
A powerful drama about the failure of FDR and his adminstration to do anything to stop the Holocaust in Europe at a time when the US was consumed with...moreA powerful drama about the failure of FDR and his adminstration to do anything to stop the Holocaust in Europe at a time when the US was consumed with anti-semitism. Produced with great success Off-Broadway, this play peels away a genteel facade of hypocrisy with disquieting facts. You can only look back in anger.(less)
A pop fart from an amoralist of the 60s. Amoral in that Susie would say or write or bed anything to promote herself in the marketplace. A collection,...moreA pop fart from an amoralist of the 60s. Amoral in that Susie would say or write or bed anything to promote herself in the marketplace. A collection, which includes her musings on Camp, that seeks to achieve lit'ry orgasm. (less)
A dense drug trip. This celebrated work (1884) offers sensual and philosophic ruminations. There's no story. Each chapter has a theme: art, religion, li...moreA dense drug trip. This celebrated work (1884) offers sensual and philosophic ruminations. There's no story. Each chapter has a theme: art, religion, literature, society, etc. Huysmans lauds painters Gustave Moreau and Odilon Redon; writers Baudelaire, Mallarme, Poe. On a Symbolist "high," the reclusive hero seeks "new perfumes, ampler blossoms, untried pleasures." He arranges obscure words like exotic flowers as he speaks of a mistress "who loved to have her nipples macerated in scents."
Between dreams and nightmares he recalls Miss Urania, an androgynous - "muscles of steel" - acrobat who fills his mind with strange notions. Having children is madness. What have they to look forward to? "...hard knocks, degrading jobs, vile diseases, unfaithfulness, a painful death.." When sick his recipe for an enema mixes cod-liver oil, beef-tea and burgundy with the yolk of one egg. (You understand why it took me some weeks to digest Huysmans).
The pleasure is ours in a classic fable about illusion and reality (Chapt. 11) The hero readies for a trip to London, hoping that unlike a visit to Holland it will not be a disappointment. In Paris he buys a London guidebook. Then, onward to an English tavern where he sees Brit ladies with "teeth big as tombstones" and men with "pork-butcher faces." There are bisquits, stale cakes and plates of mincepie. He thinks of Little Dorrit and Bleak House. But he must hurry to catch the London boat-train.
He cannot move: he's in the London of his imagination. The 'other' London will only offer disillusionment. He quietly returns home, "having seen what he wanted to experience" -- and feeling the fatigue of a long journey. The artistic temperament has never been more dramatically expressed: "It would be madness to lose by an awkward change of place his imperishable sensations."
Note: Alain de Botton writes that the reality of travel seldom matches our dreams. I stay put.
A supreme stylist. With Graham Greene, Dwight Macdonald -- key to insightful film crit, though he often didnt mention the director...working at TIME sur...moreA supreme stylist. With Graham Greene, Dwight Macdonald -- key to insightful film crit, though he often didnt mention the director...working at TIME surely drove him deep into the bottle. He didn't survive.(less)
Dave Hickey is our most exhilarating culture critic. His writing, which jolts complacency and anything obvious, is like a magic box that keeps surpris...moreDave Hickey is our most exhilarating culture critic. His writing, which jolts complacency and anything obvious, is like a magic box that keeps surprising you.(less)
The famous US espionager, Alger Hiss vs Whittaker Chambers, evokes Graham Greene-John LeCarre in this knockout investigation of a 1950 "case" now embedd...moreThe famous US espionager, Alger Hiss vs Whittaker Chambers, evokes Graham Greene-John LeCarre in this knockout investigation of a 1950 "case" now embedded in the American landscape. For cloak-dag buffs, author White's study of Hiss-tory leaves you breathless.
English comedy offers characters named Careless, Smirk and Snake. In US drama we have Hiss who performed on a stage of his own making. Urbane and cultivated, the Harvard-educated lawyer was a golden boy at the State Department - present at Yalta and founding of the UN - but he'd been giving secrets to the Russians for years. Chambers, a boozy, brilliant writer, had been a close Soviet contact in the 1930s who quit the CP upon learning of the Stalin purges.
Hiss's mask of duplicity came off during two trials: this began when he admitted to vaguely knowing Chambers in the '30s. He tried to recall Chambers during a "recognition" charade. Hmm, uh, his teeth, wavered Hiss, "look to me as though they have been improved upon" or dental work had been done. Yes, Chambers assented, he'd had extractions. Would Hiss need to speak to the dentist before he could positively ID Chambers--.
Hiss claimed he was framed by the "mentally unstable" Chambers. Problem: the Chambers testimony checked out, and why would Chambers want to frame him? He hadn't seen Hiss in ten years. For Hiss, the question of treason was a matter of manners. His were exquisite.
Convicted of perjury Hiss spent 4 years in prison, and then lived on and on and on until 1996 when he died at age 92. A sense of ambiguity about Hiss haunted journalists and partisans on both sides. He sought to vindicate himself with an aura of nobility, says the perceptive author, as a serene casualty of the Cold War.
By the late '90s transcripts of decoded Russ documents discouraged die-hard Lefties from jibbering about his innocence. The result is a psychological smashup of false rage, lies and devastated lives. Still unknown: the role his wife played (one has heard stories).
The looking-glass wars: when Hiss stared into the mirror, he surely faced -- to paraphrase Graham Greene about a damned character -- "the worst horror of all." (less)
An amiable survey of some unique women, and the men (or women) in their lives. Because this is a survey some GRs sniff: "facile." But there's nothing to...moreAn amiable survey of some unique women, and the men (or women) in their lives. Because this is a survey some GRs sniff: "facile." But there's nothing to stop anyone from reading a big boring bio on any of the subjects, except who wants to? Handsomely packed w pix by Man Ray, Berenice Abbott, Carl Van Vechten, and drawings x Djuna Barnes.
Mina Loy, who sacrificed all for love; salonista Mabel Dodge, who sacrificed nothing; Bessie Smith and Ethel Waters; druggie Edna St V; Jane Heap & Margaret Anderson; the one and only A'Lelia Walker, 'the era's most audacious hostess,' who had a palatial mansion up Hudson and was 'the richest black woman in America'; Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven (who gets a drawing x George Biddle, 1921). The party's on. (less)
An exceptional history of the American art scene up to the early 70s. Great fun to read snippets of the 1913 exhibition at the NYC Armory : Picasso, Ma...moreAn exceptional history of the American art scene up to the early 70s. Great fun to read snippets of the 1913 exhibition at the NYC Armory : Picasso, Matisse, Brancusi, Duchamp, Leger, Rouault, Redon - and so on left critics spluttering. "Pathological," fussed NYT. "Unadulterated cheek," gasped Herald-Trib. 50 years later, when Pop Art hit, NYTs Hilton Kramer vented his spleen against this sacrilege. Packed with color pix + b&w, this scholarly study of artists-movements, written w clarity and good sense, explains the development of modern art. (less)
Mix Lewis Carroll with Jacques Tati, as one critic suggested when reviewing "The American Dream," and you have a lethal and very satiric cocktail. The ca...moreMix Lewis Carroll with Jacques Tati, as one critic suggested when reviewing "The American Dream," and you have a lethal and very satiric cocktail. The cast includes : Mommy, Daddy and Young Man (who explains his price to the childless duo). Albee's comedy puts you in stitches - then he yanks 'em out. (less)
"Waltz of the Toreadors" is a farcically ironic (marital) caper of pickled despair. Others to read: "The Rehearsal," "Mlle Colombe" and "Ring Round the...more"Waltz of the Toreadors" is a farcically ironic (marital) caper of pickled despair. Others to read: "The Rehearsal," "Mlle Colombe" and "Ring Round the Moon." At his best, Jean Anouilh wraps his ideas in classical, painful comedy. He's often too much for the American sensibility, which usually prefers something to gag on. (less)
With one exception, drama criticism like yesterday's news is disposable. Max Beerbohm replaced Shaw as drama critic of London's Saturday Review in 189...moreWith one exception, drama criticism like yesterday's news is disposable. Max Beerbohm replaced Shaw as drama critic of London's Saturday Review in 1898. He was 25. He continued to write there for the next 12 years. His "crits" are rare and enduring. On Sarah Bernhardt as Hamlet: 'Her Hamlet was, from first to last, tres grande dame. The custom house ought to have confiscated her sable doublet and hose...' On Henry James's play, The High Bid: 'An artist's business is not to keep pace with his admirers; it is their business to keep pace with him.' On acting: 'The personality of the actor is more important than in any other art.'
A modest proposal: He thought the theatres should be open in the morning, not in the evening, for in the morning 'we are young, our emotions are in proper trim, so are our brains. Imagine a musical comedy on which the curtain rose at 9 A.M.! How rightly we should be revolted by it, seeing it in its true colors, in all its grossness and inanity!' Perfection: 'I have no wish to see a perfect production of Romeo, for I make it a rule to have no wishes that may not be fulfilled.' Wolcott Gibbs, the longtime drama critic of The New Yorker, wrote, 'There is hardly sentence here that is not my own envy and despair.' (less)
A best friend, CalTech grad (one of smartest peops I've known), was "in the life" for 3 years while writing op-eds on the polar ice melt for WSJ and DC...moreA best friend, CalTech grad (one of smartest peops I've known), was "in the life" for 3 years while writing op-eds on the polar ice melt for WSJ and DC Post. Like the book's author, he needed admiration and too much sex was never enough. Unlike the author, he never touched drinks or drugs. This frank memoir doesn't reveal anything you haven't imagined. There's very little erotica.
But the skillful writing has an other worldly-dreamy surreal quality -- albeit top-heavy on refs to Woolf, Wilde, Whitman, Wittgenstein, Kierkegaard, Marvell.
My pal got a security clearance and went into aerospace. Now that's a Happy Ending.(less)
Henry James loosens the corset of convention in a comedy of ambiguous desires and ambitions. Plenty of matrimonial talk goes round in discreet, repetiti...moreHenry James loosens the corset of convention in a comedy of ambiguous desires and ambitions. Plenty of matrimonial talk goes round in discreet, repetitive cicles; the tenor is always tender. A vivid worldling of 'a certain age' ponders her daughter's future while manipulating a boring husby, protecting her rotter of a son and managing a beau that the heroine-daughter fancies. Salonistas insist on keeping up appearances. Emotional resolution is offered by a passionate friend, known as 'the old man' -- a Jamesian standin -- who wants someone to love, just as James recognized this deperate need in himself. It's a circus, sighs the hostess, in which they must all perform: "That is how we earn our living." How modern can you get? (less)
EW's "autobiography," written in the mid30s, is preposterous bunkum. As much as I appreciate her novels, her debutante preening here makes me dislike he...moreEW's "autobiography," written in the mid30s, is preposterous bunkum. As much as I appreciate her novels, her debutante preening here makes me dislike her. She constantly refers to her husband and never mentions that they were divorced in 1913. When she observes that after "The House of Mirth" was published (1905) "my husband and I decided to exchange our little house in NY for a flat in Paris," we know that the hovel accomodated 3-4 servants and could be divided into 6 apartments.
Edie needs a villa in Paris to replace "the emptiness of life in a hotel." Meanwhile, off to the French and Italian Rivieras. Salons and parties with "my dear friend the Marquis de Segur," or Comte Alexandre de Laborde - aah, the pre-war society of the Faubourg Saint-Germain. The name of Morton Fullerton, the American journalist who allegedly gave her a Lady Chatterley thrill, is omitted from this memoir. The company Edie kept was mostly men, brilliant aesthetes like Henry James, Walter Berry, Howard Sturgis -- professional "bachelors." However, her portrait of James is genuinely warm and admirable.
She does include a Fun Fact : in France, at a dinner party, the "host and hostess sit opposite one another in the middle of the table." Or did pre-war. I'm told Hearst did the same at San Simeon. Guests descend, r and l, in dwindling importance.
"Life is the saddest thing there is, next to death," she concludes in the last lines. (What the devil is she gurgling about?) She won prizes, was acclaimed for her best-sellers, made 62 transatlantic crossings First Class, had stately homes here and there, chartered yachts, and, frankly, never sat still - until she died in 1937.
Post-war America offended her. She couldnt bear to see any breakup of the the social and class structure that enhanced her Gilded Age. Dont misunderstand my irreverence. Edie was a lady. Her stories capture a prehistoric period. It seems she and Fullerton could never get-it-on because her servants were always about. Elsewhere we read they finally pulled the shades in London at the Charing Cross Hotel. I bet it didnt go beyond frottage.
Who did the translation '28, mes amis? Whittaker Chambers of the Hiss-Chambers espionage case. And btw, pls, no mo reviews of familiar classics like GWT...moreWho did the translation '28, mes amis? Whittaker Chambers of the Hiss-Chambers espionage case. And btw, pls, no mo reviews of familiar classics like GWTW unless you've divined that Melanie was having it off w Rhett, and Scarlett was a mulatto. You need to "express" y'self, but make sure you have something worth expressing, OK? In sum, a fresh point-of-view. (less)
A superb "survey" of Berlin in the '20s by a writer who appreciates the fantasticalities of the era. It encompasses everyone fr Fritz Lang to Marlene to...moreA superb "survey" of Berlin in the '20s by a writer who appreciates the fantasticalities of the era. It encompasses everyone fr Fritz Lang to Marlene to Klee and Hitler's niece Geli Raubal, the murdered Walther Rathenau and aesthete Harry Kessler. The torchlight parades begin, the candles gutter.(less)
"Some women give birth to murderers, some go to bed with them, and some marry them." First line of a whopper dark comedy that Christopher Morley tabbed...more"Some women give birth to murderers, some go to bed with them, and some marry them." First line of a whopper dark comedy that Christopher Morley tabbed in 1932 as "a masterpiece of cruelty and wit."
Rich, late 20s-something-virgin Lina succumbs to Johnnie on the spot and elsewhere. She divines that he's a forger, thief and an embezzler. Written decades pre-PC, but does it matter? It'll make you gasp w literary pleasure if there's an honest bone - any bone, it doesn't matter - in yer body.
"According to Johnnie," Lina reflected, "all men had some bias toward abnormality. Johnnie had tried occasionally to hint to her of his own, but Lina would never let him." Then the author adds: "She knew very little about the subject." Lina, now married to Johnnie, resisted the idea of having her face slapped with his dick, we assume.
The ultimate masochist, Lina of pale blue eyes waits for Johnnie to kill her cos she suspects Too Much. He obliges mit de poisoned milk shake. Sipping her nightcap, 230 sublime pages later, the author says of Lina, "A tear trickled slowly down her cheek onto the pillow. She would have liked so much to live."
Geni filmmaker Hitchcock turned this into "Suspicion" w Cary Grant-Joan Fontaine (Queen of M's). It went into production without an Ending. Audiences, the moguls sighed, wouldnt accept Cary as Killer. What to do?? Hey, make milady - beyond an M - a neurotica whose "suspicions" are just sexio fantasies !
"Food and drink and love and bodies, the raw meat of life," these things concern us, advises the author, "not its civilized complexities." ~~ The novel is a humdinger.
A fine sociological survey on how Hollywood shaped and reflected America. The foreground is sexual but this study, which sometimes tries to encompass to...moreA fine sociological survey on how Hollywood shaped and reflected America. The foreground is sexual but this study, which sometimes tries to encompass too much, uses the cultural and political climate as a revealing background. The story stops in 1969 and a new chapter (or book) could be written as the studios have crumbled and power lies with agents and "packagers." Has a lot changed ? Well, a bit, but we still read about new heart throbs and their bogus romantic lives.
Hollywood has always been a small town with small town (middle-class, pls, conform) values. Image is everything, from the house you live in to the car you drive. Character and integrity count for naught. Sexually, said one exec, "if you gave them the right image, they [moguls] didnt care what you did when you left the studio." The myth-makers wanted an image from stars that translated into dollars. "It could be awful," said a publicist. "You had to be vigilant at all times." All quotes and anecdotes are sourced/footnoted.
Directors, writers, film editors, designers, choreographers and even publicists bowed to the Rules of the Game. Darryl Zanuck at Fox was the most tolerant; Louis B Mayer of Metro was the most odious. In sum, Hollywood was a schizophrenic world. Identity was consistently at risk. Yet it also recognized the fluid complexity of the sexual experience.
The director William Desmond Taylor, found shot to death in 1922, was allegedly involved w Mabel Normand and Mary Miles Minter, but he'd had a long relationship w set decorator George James Hopkins, whose career went fr Theda Bara to "Virginia Woolf." Taylor's murder was never solved. Forgotten today, indeed, unknown, Lilyan Tashman was a comet in the early 30s, though women were advised not to go into the powder room with Lil. Her marriage to actor Edmund Lowe was non-exclusive. In Hollywood marriage was, and is, social protocol.
George Cukor & Kate Hepburn raised eyebrows w the subversive "Sylvia Scarlett" (1936). It was the story of a girl disguised as a boy who joins a gang of swindlers, among them Cary Grant. The producer claimed that he'd been conned into this disaster. When rereleased in the 70s, the gender confusion seemed modern, but after "Sylvia" neither Cukor nor Hepburn strayed far from civilized comedy.
As for the civilized scripter Charles Brackett, who collaborated w Billy Wilder on "Ninotchka" and "Sunset Boulevard," the Sunday lunches at his home gathered some of the smartest members of the colony -- until his wife couldnt handle the Bloody Marys. Brackett mentored a young actor, then made him an assistant and saw that he married his daughter..."One just knew," said Don Bachardy, when asked what was going on.
"Being a queer and being in Hollywood was a potentially toxic mix," adds a survivor. There's fascinating research here as the author examines Dorothy Arzner, Gary Cooper, Zoe Atkins, Vincente Minnelli and Nicholas Ray. Finally, he reminds us that no individual story makes sense without the context of the place.
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