If you are looking for a rock-‘em sock’ em tell all of Terry Gilliam’s Python days, this is not the volumeAnd now for something completely different.
If you are looking for a rock-‘em sock’ em tell all of Terry Gilliam’s Python days, this is not the volume for you. Gilliam says that other Python biographies have taken care of that. And in any case
It was never intended to have been that. It was Holly, my daughter, had assembled all the art work I had done since childhood, and it was me talking about art. It was supposed to be a classy, classy book, for intelligent, sophisticated rich people. And as I babbled on…I want to make it very clear that John Cleese was very snippy about the fact that I didn’t actually write it, but I talked it into a microphone. I like to think of it myself as a 21st century Homer…He did the Iliad and the Odyssey from memory, so my life, I managed to get most of it done, but because it wasn’t supposed to be a complete autobiography, all the really good stories aren’t in there. You have to wait ‘til the next one.
What you do get is a fairly interesting look at someone who has been in the center of certain portions of the arts world for pretty much his entire adult life
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Physically, Gilliamesque certainly looks more like an art book than an autobiography. It is larger, at 7.5x10 inches, as opposed to a 6x9 inch hardcover. The paper is of the heavy, glossy sort, and the text is liberally accompanied by images. These include a good supply of family and personal snaps, shots of Gilliam’s heroes, early drawings, large quantities of the material for which he first gained international notice, his Python animations, lots of his work, published and not, from all stages of his artistic life and plenty of shots from his sundry cinematic endeavors. The book is visually stimulating, with diverse material splattered onto the pages, doing a great job of breaking up the text.
Terry Gilliam was born in 1940 and spent his earliest years in Minnesota. His family moved to Los Angeles when he was eleven. He drew early inspiration from sources like Sid Caesar, Ernie Kovacs, Disney and Mad comics (before the magazine). After college he headed to New York, presenting himself at the workplace of one of his comic art heroes, Howard Kurtzman, late of Mad Magazine, and then publishing Help! Magazine. By a happy coincidence Kurtzman was down an artist and Gilliam lucked into a cherished job, doing what he had wanted to do, on his first try. Working with Kurtzman did nothing to make the young artist rich, but it was an entrée into the art world. He got a hands-on education, and exposure to people whose names he now drops. It was also the place where he further developed a style of illustration he had come across called Fumetti, which uses text bubbles atop photographs of actual people, places and things. The Fumetti approach would be seminal in Gilliam developing the style he would use later in Python. He began making short films with his work pals. The Fumetti style also offered an intro to laying out storyboards, a significant skill for anyone aspiring to direct.
Gilliam is an entertaining story-teller, quite aware that there is a lot in his early life that is not really all that compelling. He had a nice, happy, middle-class childhood. It gets a bit more interesting as he grows up. There is plenty of silliness to go around. But Terry Gilliam is no Robin Williamsesque madman chewing up scenery and reveling in mayhem. Unlike his wild concoctions that stomped, flew, and spewed across the Python shows, Gilliam the person has a sense of humor that is fairly low key, Midwestern, just folks, with a bit of a devilish wink, and a prankster’s gleam. This also comes across when you see him interviewed (several links at bottom), as does an occasional undertone, and sometimes overtone of nastiness.
It was while he was living and working in New York that he attended a comedy show called “Cambridge Circus.” The performers in the troupe included John Cleese and Graham Chapman. Friendships were formed.
Viet Nam had become a thing, and Gilliam did what many with no draft deferment and no desire to fight in a jungle on the other side of the world did. He joined the National Guard. Of course, having to actually do all the training was not particularly appealing, so he managed to scam his way out of most of it, not exactly establishing a high ethical tone. This, at a time when the Guard was not being used, or even, really, considered for combat.
Back in LA he got work in advertising. Made more connections, the most significant of which was Cambridge-educated English journalist Glenys Robert. One thing led to another. He joined her when she went to London to take charge of a small magazine, was a kept man for a bit but kept busy seeking out and finding illustration employment. And then, magically, was taken on as an art director at the publication his gf was running. It’s fair to say that my entrance into English society was not at the basement level. Glenys knew a lot of people and they were a smart and well-connected crowd.
That did not work out for the long term. He sold some comedy sketches to a children’s show called Do Not Adjust Your Set. The cast included Michael Palin, Terry Jones and Eric Idle. He got another gig for the same producer, working on a TV show drawing caricatures of the guests. Idle was a panelist on that show as well. It was while working there that he made his first animation. It was well received. Offers of work started pouring in.
It was not long after this that MPFC was born. Gilliam had maintained contact with Cleese and Chapman, and with Idle, Palin and Terry Jones, they found kindred spirits. BBC took a chance on the lads. Seven shows or bust. The rest is history. Gilliam’s part was to draw the sketch-connecting animations, and in that role he was able to remain out of the line of fire as the other five competed over whose ideas would be used. There is not a lot on the personal interplay. He tells of their sudden rock-stardom. But adds a bit of bitchiness. …It was exciting to be treated like rock stars (although comedy groupies were a very different animal to the rock star variety—far less beautiful, but they had lots of personality, and we owed them a great debt of thanks for helping us keep our vows of celibacy). What a guy!
He writes a bit about his animation technique. I came across a wonderful video in which he shows how he goes about it. Wonderful stuff. There is a link in Extra Stuff.
Gilliam is known for directing some of the most distinctive and highly regarded films of his time. These include Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Time Bandits, Brazil, The Fisher King, 12 Monkeys, and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. More ink (or voice-tape time) is dedicated to directing than anything else. And it is this that is most interesting, the challenges involved in coping with the Hollywood system the challenges of coping with two separate leading men on two separate films dying during production, dealing with the peculiarities of big personalities, huge stars, great talent, lesser talent, and tight budgets. I thought his telling of directorial woes, challenges, failures and triumphs was worth the price of admission.
There were few downsides to the book. First, the telling of his early years was rather uninteresting. I had hoped for more about his Python years and interactions with the rest of that crew. I have not read the other memoirs to which he refers, so remain largely in the dark. I was taken aback at how cavalierly he gamed the system to evade his National Guard training obligations, and then used his newfound success to lawyer his way out of it entirely. While I can appreciate that he might have felt more comfortable in England than he did in the USA, ultimately he ditched his US citizenship over the issue of taxes. Maybe not the highest quality human being walking the earth.
So what is one to make of all this? Gilliam has an amazing visual sense, and a very effective visual sense of humor. The book is indeed more about his art than his life and there is a lot in here about his artistic journey from Minnesota to the most famous circus of its era. The book offers a cornucopia of images, a considerable strength. He is an entertaining story-teller, with a lifetime of encounters with familiar names and tales to tell, some of them surprising and a fair number uproarious. He talks a lot about his experiences as a director and this is pretty wonderful. So, if you don’t mind his personal downside, his professional upsides and insight make Gilliamesque worth a look.
A piece from Vulture - The Man Who Was Almost Killed by Don Quixote - by Bilge Ebiri - on his upcoming (finally) film - the ff Photo is from the article. The film was finally released in 2018, with USA release in 2019, and UK release in 2020.
Change is definitely in the air in the summer of 1928. With the release of The Jazz Singer in 1927 the
Point a camera at something, you change it.
Change is definitely in the air in the summer of 1928. With the release of The Jazz Singer in 1927 the Grand brothers, silent-film director Micah, and his cameraman, partner and brother Izzy, might be feeling a bit of heat from the new kid on the block, the talkie. Their producer certainly is. Mired in debt and fearing for the future of his group’s stock in trade, he wants Micah and Iz to secure another foundation for their company. When he proposes that they go to Africa to create stock footage for sale to other companies, they are reluctant. But Micah has a bit of a problem with gambling, and really, really needs the money such a grand tour might generate.
The seed of the idea for O, Africa! came from an incident in the lives of the Korda brothers, who made several trips to Africa in the early period of moviemaking to create a vault of B-roll footage of the bush—an anecdote that immediately suggested to me a big, freewheeling book that could accommodate many of the themes that most interest me. - from KGB Bar interview
They do not get to Africa until about a hundred pages in, so there is a lot of local color to absorb. Historical figures, whether by reference or named overtly, are a large presence here. Babe Ruth pops by for a cameo in a film they are shooting in Coney Island. There are gangster sorts that seem lifted from the pages of Damon Runyon or Elmore Leonard. At least a few, such as Bumpy Johnson, and Stephanie St. Clair, are fictionalized versions of historical NYC baddies. The brothers’ leading man, Henry Till, is an avatar of silent film comedy star Harold Lloyd, complete with signature eyeglasses, and damaged hand.
Conn’s love for cinema shines through. O, Africa is a celebration of film-making and the characters involved, and includes a look at the first Oscars night. And while the characters may not always be the purest of the pure, they are certainly colorful. Micah, although married and a father, is a committed philanderer. But he is most heavily involved with a light-skinned black woman, Rose. Iz has complications of his own. He is so closeted that he makes his first appearance in O, Africa in a box. A dwarfs wrestles well beyond his stature, and a gangster has that most Hollywood of things to offer, a screenplay.
There is range in Conn’s tonality. There is a light touch in looking at the brothers’ lives in the beginning, but events take place that call for a much more serious approach, and the lightness floats away.
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Andrew Lewis Conn
Conn’s content (Conntent?) is considerable. He looks at a slew of minorities. Conn’s 1920s gangsters (with the trailing “er” intact) do not fit the usual image we have of tommy-gun-toting bank robbers and Prohibition-fueled thieves, killers and smugglers. These mobsters are black. And at least one member of that club has blasted away at the glass ceiling. He includes a dwarf director, a mixed race relationship and an adult gay virgin.
You have these different minority characters who are trying to find a way in, a way into the culture and, you know, it could be either through some sort of artistic endeavor or criminality. But the instinct is the same. It’s all trying to break through somehow. - from Momemt Mag interview
There is some powerful imagery. A dump site near the African village is particularly poignant. Subtlety does not always rule, however, as we are treated to a bludgeoning when it comes to interpreting a nightly film showing.
GRIPES Sometimes, it seems that the author is trying too hard to sound substantive, and it comes across as stretching rather than insight. …heading west is an instinct, too. It has to do with mortality, catching the last light before it slips beyond the horizon. Such an impulse is as likely related to fleeing one’s creditors.
Conn’s eyes must need a rest after all the winking he does to the reader regarding references to future events. King Kong, black exploitation films, Slouching Toward Bethlehem, Where’s Waldo, Cheech and Chong and the crash of 1929 stood out. There are doubtless many others. I found these to be distancing.
Occasionally, a bit of fact-checking or at least explanation seemed in order. An African village is reported to have a considerable number of bison horns on display. There are no bison in Africa. Ditto a reference to a local lemur. Lemurs exist in nature only in Madagascar and not on the African mainland.
IN SUM So, what to make of all this? It is pretty clear that the author has put in a considerable amount of work to create O, Africa. There is much to enjoy in this book, and a fair bit to learn. Conn offers a Kavalier and Klay-like portrait of an early time in a particular art-form and in an era that is interesting, lively and enjoyable. But the literary legerdemain on display here, like that which is often displayed on screens large and small, did not succeed in creating that necessary reader-character magical bond for me. There were moments, for sure, when this or that character seemed to breathe an actual breath, but I never felt truly engaged for more than a spurt here and there. O, Africa is definitely worth a few hours of your time, as long as you are looking for more of an intellectually than emotionally satisfying read.
I received a copy of O, Africa! from Blogging for Books in return for an honest review.
Review first posted – 8/8/14 Publication date – 6/10/14
Anne Thompson is an on-online Hollywood reporter. Aware that the what’s-happening-right-now world of just-in-time digital journalism (or most print joAnne Thompson is an on-online Hollywood reporter. Aware that the what’s-happening-right-now world of just-in-time digital journalism (or most print journalism for that matter) does not allow for much reflection, she was looking for a way to tell her story of change in the movie business. Thompson was inspired by William Goldman’s The Season: A Candid Look at Broadway, which covered one year in the theater and, in The $11 Billion Year, applies that formula to the business of tinsel town.
[image] The author
While Thompson’s book hardly qualifies as a rom-com there are definite elements of affection. She headed into the ‘wood some time back, working as a film columnist and editor at Variety. She hails from that other big cinematic locale in the US, New York City. Clearly she carried a bit of home with her, as she remains a Yankees fan. She worked for Entertainment Weekly, Hollywood Reporter, and other entertainment media as well. She began her blog “Thompson on Hollywood” in 2007, which conjures for me an image of the writer in a saddle atop the sign (not gonna go with cowgirl here), and heightens the disappointment I feel at my lack of expertise with Photoshop. It is not nearly a bio-pic either, as Thompson keeps herself pretty much in the background. Nor is it likely that this book will begin a franchise or constitute a blockbuster and be a tentpole to support her other endeavors, but hopefully it will find an audience.
The $11 billion of the title refers to film income for one year, and that’s just domestic. Sounds like H’wood is doing nicely, able to put food on the dining room table, and maybe a few lines on the coffee table. In fact, according to Thompson
Hollywood is like Harold Lloyd in Safety Last, hanging desperately to the hands of that old (silent) clock, which is moving inevitably toward future time.
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She says that Hollywood studios, increasingly profit centers in Blob-like corporate behemoths, are narrowing the range of product they are willing to put out, going increasingly for the formulaic, the tried-and-true, and thus are pushing talent into other venues, TV, internet, VOD, Netflix, et al. This represents the real core of the book, the migration from a studio-centric film world to a more dispersed digital environment.
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This is not necessarily a terrible thing, as technological changes have put the means of production into the hands of more and more potential film-makers, and a broad range of potential venues has arisen to provide places where these films can be sold and seen. One interesting bit of history Thompson looks at is the rationale for and the transition from film (1999) to digital (2012), and how the diverse parties came to an agreement.
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She tracks the annual festival migrations, from Sundance in January to the SXSW in Spring, Cannes in May and the Fall festivals in Venice, Telluride, Toronto and New York, stopping at other annual events along the way. At Cinemacon, filmmakers show their upcoming product to theater owners. And fan-boy nerds rule at Comic-Con. Part of this is to track the progress, or lack of progress of films through this gauntlet, whether the end result is to gain notice for awards season or merely to get some distribution at all and make back production costs. You will get at least a feel, and sometimes more, for each of these festivals.
She writes in some detail about a handful of films whose titles are familiar and others you may not have heard of. Attention is paid as well to gender issues in the industry, with a focus on Kathryn Bigelow. The book offers for your consideration a look at some of the politicking that goes on before and into Oscar season, and some bits of info on AMPAS (The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences) membership, which is about 6,000 strong, and is by invitation only. You will pick up some terminology too, and a few more abbreviations to add to your alphabet soup. “IP”, for example has nothing to do with an initial public something or other, but refers to “Intellectual Property,” the from part of an Oscar nomination for Adapted Screenplay. You will find that NATO can be something other than a plot device in a war flick. (National Association of Theater Owners). MG is not a car or a medication dosage but a Minimum Guarantee, a cash advance payable to the producer upon delivery of the completed film in exchange for exclusive rights to distribute a film in a sales territory. One last term, “four-quadrant” refers to a film that can attract viewers from diverse demographics, including the young, the old, male and female. There are plenty more expressions and letter combinations to take in.
As with any survey-type book, there is always the problem of wanting to know more about this or that element.
Thompson’s prose is fluid, as easy to read as a film treatment . If you are a fan of the cinema (Yes, yes, me, me) there is plenty of scene stealing material here, and a bit of comic relief, but the end result is a fascinating documentary look at how the whole business has changed, a long tracking shot of the running of the festivals, a bit of close-up on Oscar season machinations, and some previews of what might lie ahead. While I could not say for certain that The $11 Billion Year would walk away with a statue for best book about the business of Hollywood, not having screened read other candidates, there is no denying that it has earned at least a nomination. And that’s a wrap. Let’s do lunch. I have a project I’d like to tell you about. I’ll have my people call your people. Okay?
Publication date – March 4, 2014
Review first posted - 2/7/2014
=============================EXTRA STUFF
Links to the author’s blog, Twitter and FB pages. Seriously, if you want to keep up with things Hollywood, Thompson’s blog is a can’t miss, four-quadrant, blockbuster product.
Thompson mentions Emma Fitzpatrick’s wonderful send-up of Anne Hathaway in a satirical version of I Dreamed a Dream . If you have not yet seen this you absolutely must.
Salamon tells the tale of the making of Tom Wolfe's satiric masterpiece Bonfire of the Vanities into a film. It [image] Julie Salamon - from her site
Salamon tells the tale of the making of Tom Wolfe's satiric masterpiece Bonfire of the Vanities into a film. It provides an incredibly detailed view of diverse aspects of movie-making, any of which could, if done wrong, turn a good product into a bad one. She notes the thought process behind many of the decisions made for the film, particularly the bad and costly ones. It is unique in my reading to have such an inside view covering such a wide range of information. A must read for anyone who loves cinema.
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