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Raoul Walsh: The True Adventures of Hollywood's Legendary Director
Raoul Walsh (1887–1980) was known as one of Hollywood's most adventurous, iconoclastic, and creative directors. He carved out an illustrious career and made films that transformed the Hollywood studio yarn into a thrilling art form. Walsh belonged to that early generation of directors―along with John Ford and Howard Hawks―who worked in the fledgling film industry of the early twentieth century, learning to make movies with shoestring budgets. Walsh's generation invented a Hollywood that made movies seem bigger than life itself.
In the first ever full-length biography of Raoul Walsh, author Marilyn Ann Moss recounts Walsh's life and achievements in a career that spanned more than half a century and produced upwards of two hundred films, many of them cinema classics. Walsh originally entered the movie business as an actor, playing the role of John Wilkes Booth in D. W. Griffith's The Birth of a Nation (1915). In the same year, under Griffith's tutelage, Walsh began to direct on his own. Soon he left Griffith's company for Fox Pictures, where he stayed for more than twenty years. It was later, at Warner Bros., that he began his golden period of filmmaking.
Walsh was known for his romantic flair and playful persona. Involved in a freak auto accident in 1928, Walsh lost his right eye and began wearing an eye patch, which earned him the suitably dashing moniker "the one-eyed bandit." During his long and illustrious career, he directed such heavyweights as Humphrey Bogart, James Cagney, Errol Flynn, and Marlene Dietrich, and in 1930 he discovered future star John Wayne.
In the first ever full-length biography of Raoul Walsh, author Marilyn Ann Moss recounts Walsh's life and achievements in a career that spanned more than half a century and produced upwards of two hundred films, many of them cinema classics. Walsh originally entered the movie business as an actor, playing the role of John Wilkes Booth in D. W. Griffith's The Birth of a Nation (1915). In the same year, under Griffith's tutelage, Walsh began to direct on his own. Soon he left Griffith's company for Fox Pictures, where he stayed for more than twenty years. It was later, at Warner Bros., that he began his golden period of filmmaking.
Walsh was known for his romantic flair and playful persona. Involved in a freak auto accident in 1928, Walsh lost his right eye and began wearing an eye patch, which earned him the suitably dashing moniker "the one-eyed bandit." During his long and illustrious career, he directed such heavyweights as Humphrey Bogart, James Cagney, Errol Flynn, and Marlene Dietrich, and in 1930 he discovered future star John Wayne.
528 pages, Hardcover
First published June 1, 2011
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
July 30, 2011
If you favor the insider tidbits that Robert Osborne sprinkles around TCM’s film offerings, then you’ll enjoy this schooling on one of Hollywood’s legendary pioneers. I say schooling because the 480+ pages of this work will pass for a classroom textbook.
The publication includes 18 pages of footnotes, a six-page bibliography, and a 12-page index. Added are 42 pages of Walsh’s filmography and a 32-page picture insert. The filmography displays Walsh’s early acting/directing (1913-1915), most of his directorial attributions (through 1964), as well as a few films where he served as a consultant or a writer. The photos have been taken from Mary Walsh’s (Raoul’s third wife) collection as well as from the archives of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
Despite her six-page “Acknowledgments” section that reads like an Academy Awards acceptance speech, Marilyn Ann Moss’s five-page “Prologue” sets the stage for a reading about this filmmaker, whose personal life was marked by grief, adventure and daring, and who consistently demonstrated his ability to grab whatever assignment and get it done admirably—on time and under budget.
But this is not a stodgy course-book reading. Moss displays her film historian knowledge in a fairly breezy journalist style. She does seem to embrace a formulaic approach to most chapters. Usually Moss renders a global appraisal of the movie industry or perhaps American culture; she shifts into a synopsis of a given movie title together with particular details about any production problems, criticisms of filmic achievements, or revelations about encounters with actors, other directors, or the moneymen; then she interprets any personal collisions or problems in Walsh’s private life; and finally wraps up that period.
Born in March 1887 as Albert Edward, Walsh left home soon after his cherished, story-telling mother died when he was 15 years old. He traveled out West and ventured into cow-punching, horse wrangling, and generally gadding about. Moss admits that, as an inveterate story-teller, Walsh’s imagination (as recorded in his autobiography) was greatly at odds with reality. Walsh’s knack for fact-tion in addition to his general taciturnity and hyperbole about his personal life create obstacles for any biographer.
Walsh fell into movie-making because of his physique as much as due to his horse-riding ability. He altered his moniker to Raoul for his stints in front of the camera and kept the name after he eventually was lured behind the camera under the tutelage of D.W. Griffith. Although he lost an eye through an automobile accident, Walsh never lost his vision in making pictures to entertain an audience. According to Moss, Walsh disdained making “art” from film or in expressing personal agenda or social criticism. His filmmaking usually cast the heroic loner against nature with only a hardy woman at his side.
A self-deprecating, ribald workaholic, Walsh’s bugaboos were the financial precariousness due his gambling on races and later in raising horses. It seems the silver screen’s pioneer held finances like quicksilver. These financial and emotional distractions pursued him through three marriages, not ceasing until he died at age 93 in December 1980.
Moss’s renderings of Walsh’s craft and craftiness throughout decades of change in technology and studio life are extraordinarily enlightening. Slightly shy of being Raoul Walsh’s definitive biography, this critical work should be a classic for any film buff.
The publication includes 18 pages of footnotes, a six-page bibliography, and a 12-page index. Added are 42 pages of Walsh’s filmography and a 32-page picture insert. The filmography displays Walsh’s early acting/directing (1913-1915), most of his directorial attributions (through 1964), as well as a few films where he served as a consultant or a writer. The photos have been taken from Mary Walsh’s (Raoul’s third wife) collection as well as from the archives of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
Despite her six-page “Acknowledgments” section that reads like an Academy Awards acceptance speech, Marilyn Ann Moss’s five-page “Prologue” sets the stage for a reading about this filmmaker, whose personal life was marked by grief, adventure and daring, and who consistently demonstrated his ability to grab whatever assignment and get it done admirably—on time and under budget.
But this is not a stodgy course-book reading. Moss displays her film historian knowledge in a fairly breezy journalist style. She does seem to embrace a formulaic approach to most chapters. Usually Moss renders a global appraisal of the movie industry or perhaps American culture; she shifts into a synopsis of a given movie title together with particular details about any production problems, criticisms of filmic achievements, or revelations about encounters with actors, other directors, or the moneymen; then she interprets any personal collisions or problems in Walsh’s private life; and finally wraps up that period.
Born in March 1887 as Albert Edward, Walsh left home soon after his cherished, story-telling mother died when he was 15 years old. He traveled out West and ventured into cow-punching, horse wrangling, and generally gadding about. Moss admits that, as an inveterate story-teller, Walsh’s imagination (as recorded in his autobiography) was greatly at odds with reality. Walsh’s knack for fact-tion in addition to his general taciturnity and hyperbole about his personal life create obstacles for any biographer.
Walsh fell into movie-making because of his physique as much as due to his horse-riding ability. He altered his moniker to Raoul for his stints in front of the camera and kept the name after he eventually was lured behind the camera under the tutelage of D.W. Griffith. Although he lost an eye through an automobile accident, Walsh never lost his vision in making pictures to entertain an audience. According to Moss, Walsh disdained making “art” from film or in expressing personal agenda or social criticism. His filmmaking usually cast the heroic loner against nature with only a hardy woman at his side.
A self-deprecating, ribald workaholic, Walsh’s bugaboos were the financial precariousness due his gambling on races and later in raising horses. It seems the silver screen’s pioneer held finances like quicksilver. These financial and emotional distractions pursued him through three marriages, not ceasing until he died at age 93 in December 1980.
Moss’s renderings of Walsh’s craft and craftiness throughout decades of change in technology and studio life are extraordinarily enlightening. Slightly shy of being Raoul Walsh’s definitive biography, this critical work should be a classic for any film buff.
January 28, 2023
A thoroughly enjoyable profile, of a classic Hollywood personality. A man's man, with deep affection for women, while on a desert, jungle, wartime, maritime, or western adventure. Also a new found respect and curiosity for this figure I had known little of. Glad I picked this one up, which had been gathering dust on my shelf. A great, fast paced read.
October 30, 2023
Review to come.
10/30/23 Oops -- I let too much time go by to write a really thorough review, but you'll be fine if you read the Goodreads reviews by "Aaron Hollander" and "Tim." I agree with both of them to some extent but, as you see from my three stars instead of their four, I just "liked it."
The author covers the ground she should -- thorough in all respects -- and I learned about Walsh's early career -- had no clue. Unfortunately (for a biographer), Walsh apparently never could decide on one story about his life and stick to it. But I might admire that about him . . . who says he needed to settle on one account? He probably was enjoying recreating himself.
Another reason for just three stars: This book is FULL of irritating errors or perhaps just sloppy writing or editing or both. For example: on page 177, the author writes “Now in his early sixties, Walsh was financially secure and studio supported.” Yet on page 178 the author begins a long litany of Walsh’s financial difficulties -- difficulties that come up every few pages.
10/30/23 Oops -- I let too much time go by to write a really thorough review, but you'll be fine if you read the Goodreads reviews by "Aaron Hollander" and "Tim." I agree with both of them to some extent but, as you see from my three stars instead of their four, I just "liked it."
The author covers the ground she should -- thorough in all respects -- and I learned about Walsh's early career -- had no clue. Unfortunately (for a biographer), Walsh apparently never could decide on one story about his life and stick to it. But I might admire that about him . . . who says he needed to settle on one account? He probably was enjoying recreating himself.
Another reason for just three stars: This book is FULL of irritating errors or perhaps just sloppy writing or editing or both. For example: on page 177, the author writes “Now in his early sixties, Walsh was financially secure and studio supported.” Yet on page 178 the author begins a long litany of Walsh’s financial difficulties -- difficulties that come up every few pages.
June 9, 2016
Alas, not a great biography. While the first few chapters started swingingly, it soon turned into a superficial description of Walsh's life and films with legions of repetitions, some redundancies and some outright contradictions.
I appreciate that a lot of Walsh's life may be out of reach at this late stage of the game. He died in 1980 and was well into his 90s, so not many people are still alive to corroborate or contradict the claims he made himself. But the analysis of his films was also pretty poor, there was no critical approach to anything he directed and heaps of statements were just thrown into the text without making any sense. What little written materials the author had to work with, odd letters and telegrams, were quoted at length without rhyme or reason.
Based on this book (and if I didn't know better from actually watching some of his best films) I'd get the impression that Walsh and his oeuvre is badly dated, macho shit.
I appreciate that a lot of Walsh's life may be out of reach at this late stage of the game. He died in 1980 and was well into his 90s, so not many people are still alive to corroborate or contradict the claims he made himself. But the analysis of his films was also pretty poor, there was no critical approach to anything he directed and heaps of statements were just thrown into the text without making any sense. What little written materials the author had to work with, odd letters and telegrams, were quoted at length without rhyme or reason.
Based on this book (and if I didn't know better from actually watching some of his best films) I'd get the impression that Walsh and his oeuvre is badly dated, macho shit.
May 3, 2012
This should have been interesting but it just wasn't. Boring and repetitive.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews