༺ BOOK REVIEWS ༻

Shooting To Kill. By Christine Vachon with David Edelstein.

Fri, 9 Oct 2009 15:48:02 +0800

Shooting to kill is part biography of Christine Vachon’s vault in to Producer Super Stardom and part DIY manual for struggling indie film makers.
Vachon defines the often ambiguous role of Producer and the process by which she has helped create films of depth and resonance such as “The Velvet Goldmine” “Poison”, “Safe”, “Kids”, “Boys Don’t Cry” and “I Shot Andy Warhol” all on tenuous and often changing budgets
Vachon describes her collaborations with directors and screen writers like Todd Haynes and Gus Van Sant while divulging secrets of budgeting and fund raising for major motion pictures.
A sizable section of the book is made up of actual budgeting broadsheets and production reports, the raw bones of any motion picture production. With these, Vachon goes to great length to demystify and explain, bit-by-bit, how a film is financed and made. While this may sound a little dreary Vachon manages to squeeze in fascinating artifacts of the film making industry and inject some of her own New York wit.
“You can’t really mess around in this area: (Special effects) You don’t want to risk your actors, let alone something irreplaceable like your camera.”
The budgets and broadsheets illustrate how an entire budget is spent and accounted for on a feature film. Vachon explains every single expense and how it fits into the budget as a whole. In addition to this exhaustive analysis of the finance of film making Vachon discusses more pragmatic issues such as the producer/director relationship, dealing with actors and extras and dealing with the ubiquitous S.A.G.
Apart form the dry anatomy of film production and budgeting Vachon gives the reader a thrilling peek into the life of a motion picture producer through day-to-day production diaries, step by step description of production deals and an over view of the entire process of production of Vachon’s current project (at the time of publication) “The Velvet Goldmine”.
Within this account Vachon imparts several important lessons in independent film making. She details key moments in the production of “The Velvet Goldmine” including a tragic “Deal gone Awry” section that documents the devastating culling of Velvet Goldmine’s budget from a modest $10 million down to a positively meagre $2 million.
Shooting to Kill is a good mixture of practical, hard edged information and learned but world weary knowledge. Vachon constructs a good balance between the DIY sections of the book and accounts of her own experiences in the film production world. The reader is a voyeur into the strange and tumultuous land of movie making and is let in on hundreds of stories about directors, big name actors, heavy weight studios and a riotously amusing battle between art and finance.
Vachon's stories within Shooting to Kill are inspired and light hearted but at the same time she does her best to earnestly prepare people for the world into which they are about to embark whether as students of film-making or only as casual readers of her book. Shooting To Kill is honest and passionate because Christine Vachon is passionate about her life’s work and it is this that she shares in Shooting To Kill. Her passion and her desire in the world of making film where so often artistic merit is bargained out for the good graces of rich film distributors.
Overall Shooting to Kill leaves the reader amazed and with a burning desire to become a film producer. Well if not quite that, than at least a feeling that such a task is indeed possible and a respectable insight into the often confusing world of film-making.
-Lucifer.

Inside Little Britain. By Boyd Hilton.

Fri, 9 Oct 2009 15:47:59 +0800

I really enjoyed all three of the Little Britain television series and found the live stage show hilariously funny, and exceptionally well produced. The comedy of Matt Lucas and David Walliams is daring and challenging, these two men are undeniably funny. Unfortunately though, Inside Little Britain by Boyd Hilton is nothing short of the biggest pile of festering tripe that has ever been set on paper.
Okay, so perhaps the tripe comment was a bit harsh, but in “Inside Little Britain”, it appears that the journalist/biographer Boyd Hilton fails to see the distinction between what should be included in an in-depth, behind the scenes, biography and what is so mundane and mind-numbingly uninteresting that it leaves the reader wanting to hang himself with a kettle cord to escape the unutterable horror of having to finish reading the book.
Hilton includes all kinds of minutia from the day to day lives of Matt Lucas and David Walliams that really would be better off not mentioned at all. Had Hilton been able to distinguish between what was interesting to a reader and what was only really interesting to him, he may have succeeded in writing an interesting and engaging biography and could even have shaved the four hundred and six page tome down to a much more accessible one hundred and fifty pages, called it quits and just sold it as a magazine article, which I’m positive he’s a hundred times more qualified to do.
There really is no understating the sheer gob-smacking ineptitude that Hilton has spewed about while trying to justify a full size biography. For every interesting line of the book there seems to be five pages of utter shit that no-one, no matter how much they like Little Britain, could ever be interested in. In chapter seven, Hilton describes Lucas and Walliams greeting fans outside, after the opening night of their stage show. In a startling display of Hilton’s snappy and concise writing style he finishes the paragraph like this:
After ten minutes or so of signing autographs, Matt and Kevin get into their car, driven by Cos, and I accompany David in his, driven by Pete.
That’s it. There’s a new paragraph after that one. But no particular mention of Pete or Cos. There’s no: “Just as they pull out Pete and Cos die instantaneously in the worlds first simultaneous heart attack.” No: “Pete and Cos turn out to be coked-up junkie prostitutes who have managed to secretly engineer their ways into the inner sanctum of Little Britain in order to destroy the lives of Lucas and Walliams.” Nothing. It seems that Hilton has taken to including this dead-weight sentence merely to demonstrate that he knows the names of Lucas and Walliams’s drivers.
Earlier Hilton has kindly advised us:
Those of us who happen to be present in the dressing rooms before the start of the show will get to know what Matt and David’s bodies are like pretty well over the ensuing months. And that David usually wears briefs, and Matt invariably goes for boxers.
For the sake of not retching over my keyboard I will ignore the fact that Hilton starts a sentence with a conjunction. I will ignore his repeated use of said conjunction to a painful effect in the second part of a half-arsed sentence and I will ignore his repugnant use of the adverb “invariably”. What I will say is WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY include this and many, many other sentences like it throughout the biography? The answer seems to be that, while very comfortable being wrapped up in the “ooh -er”, celebrity gossip, excitement of it all, Hilton seems to have no particular skill whatsoever for chronicling any kind of meaningful biography of anyone let alone a couple of men who are of particular interest to the whole of their own country and a considerable portion of the rest of the world. Bless him, he really does try to make something in depth and revealing but only succeeds in telling us mundane and unbelievably dull tales about how Lucas used to cruise London’s gay nightclub scene and how Walliams couldn’t decide if he was gay or straight. The subject of sexuality seems to be something of particular interest to the British tabloid set and here it is dutifully belabored, dragged on and beaten to an ugly death until the very end of the book and leaves the reader asking “What the hell do I care?” and “How long can we reasonably discuss this for?”
One of my favourite examples of Hilton's complete lack of ability when it comes to differentiating between what should be included in a biography and what clearly shouldn’t is this pearl:
We discuss what to have for Breakfast and Matt warns everyone: ‘Careful with the chips!’
‘What’s wrong with the chips?’ asks David.
Matt explains that he and Kevin ordered a portion of chips last night from room service because they were still hungry, and it arrived doused in salt. ‘Enough salt to fill a large vial,’ says Matt. He was so stunned by the salt that he told the waiter to bring the duty manager up so that he could show him, and because Matt didn’t want the waiter to take the blame for the salty chips. Sure enough, the duty manager arrived promptly, and Matt removed the chips from the bowl to show him the mountain of salt left at the bottom.
‘What did he say?’ asks David.
‘Not much!’ laughs Matt. ‘He couldn’t really say anything. He apologised and offered to bring us a new portion of chips with less salt for free. But - and I know I’m sounding like a moaning old twat - but it was an amazing amount of salt, Dave. Honestly! It was a portion of salt with some chips on top.’
Who is this book for?
If you’re a die-hard fan of Matt Lucas and David Walliams you can expect to try and digest Boyd Hilton’s Hello! Mag style bantering and unfiltered mundane details to get to the interesting facts about Little Britain at the height of it’s popularity which are actually there if you dig deep enough. The subject matter is fascinating but Hilton’s corpse-like handling of the material really destroyed any proper enjoyment that I may have had by reading it. Maybe you could just check out their website instead?
If you like this book, you would also like...
Shoving needles under you finger nails and chewing on sandpaper. Hilton’s infuriating style of lowest common denominator, tabloid style, hack writing really overshadows what could have been a great insight into the private life of Little Britain.
- Lucifer.

Bridget Jones’s Diary. By Helen Fielding.

Fri, 9 Oct 2009 15:47:55 +0800

As far as I’m concerned, this is one of the defining books of the “chick lit” genre; so defining, in fact, and followed by so many pale imitations, that Bridget Jones’s Diary should probably surpass this tired and overstuffed genre into something else with the emphasis on “literarty”. There have been so many awful books that have tried to sneak into a similar category, but they just can’t touch the wit and style and glorious lovability of Bridget Jones’s Diary.
Bridget Jones is a thirty-something single girl, with her own flat and a group of supportive friends. She also has man problems, weight problems, mother problems, and career problems. Sure, it sounds trite, but Helen Fielding has that true genius of a writer whereby every small detail is a delight to read and serves to create a masterfully told story. Bridget’s diary, written (as you would imagine) in the first person, is written in an authentic shorthand and provokes a close empathy with Bridget, and her story as she lives from day to day and her experiences with work, men, friendships, etc. The diary begins in January with a list of New Year’s resolutions, and ends with her measurements of how she did. It is lots of fun to live Bridget’s life with her while she consumes alcohol units, cigarettes (v. bad) all manner of food stuffs, has an affair with her boss, and tries to cope with her mother dating a deeply suspicious European named Julio while she remains married to “Daddy”. All the characters are three dimensional and completely living, and the novel is referential to outside events while remaining timeless in the story.
What I really appreciate about Bridget Jones’s Diary is that it is not solely the diary of a neurotic thirty-something. It is also a dazzling social commentary, a witty look at British culture and life, and showcases Helen Fielding’s knowledge about literature, art and her understanding of social issues without drawing conclusions or shoving them in the reader’s face. All of which serve to make this book more impressive and multi-faceted.
Now, while Bridget Jones’s Diary because a massive cult sensation with the advent of the movie, I don’t feel like such a prat giving the contents synopsis as I did with Harry Potter. This is because no matter how much you loved the movie, you will love the book more... mainly because Renée Zellweger’s pout doesn’t feature quite so heavily in the novel (and by the sequel movie you just want to run away), but also because a movie, no matter how expertly done, can’t covey the dry wit and empathy that the book seems to effortlessly exude. My one problem with Bridget Jones’s Diary was that I paid $24AUD for it and finished it in an hour and a half. And was left, half way through a train trip, thinking “is that all?”. However, this feeling has gradually dissipated because re-reading Bridget Jones’s Diary certainly doesn’t diminish any enjoyment of it, and I feel I definitely have had my money’s worth.
While classed as “chick lit” this book transcends gender. Don’t feel that just because you’re male you are excluded from such things; I know many men who have read this book and utterly loved it. This book is for anyone who wants to see the world through the eyes of Bridget, but also for those who want to experience modern life.
If you like this book, you would also like...
Helen Fielding’s earlier novel, Cause Celeb, which is also excellent. And you will probably find other novels in the “chick lit” genre trite and nowhere as good, so stick to the highbrow, because that’s what this is.

- Bridget @ www.illiterarty.com .

Stark. By Ben Elton.

Fri, 9 Oct 2009 15:36:49 +0800

Ah, the first novel of Ben Elton... comedian, comic genius behind such hilarities as The Young Ones and Blackadder, and, after this and some of his other gems, man with an environmental conscience. I loved Stark so much that before long my copy had no front cover... and then slowly dissolved from over reading and over lending. Granted, I was an idealistic young thing at the time with an environmental preoccupation... but still, that’s a fairly good sign. Furthermore, proud Fremantle rumour has it that Mr Elton scribed this book while sitting at Gino’s making notes on a paper napkin, and while I’m not overly convinced that this is the absolute truth, there are some characters lurking about the pages of Stark that made me think that maybe Ben was drawing inspiration from some real-life members of the Gino’s community.
Okay, this story has all the elements of a goodie... the main character, a drippy and terminally uncool young Englishman residing in the south of Western Australia, uncovers a fiendish plot by the richest men and women on earth as to how they will deal with the earth’s demise from pollution. How can CJ help save the world when all the environmentalists just want to sit around smoking incense and chanting? In what is now considered classic Elton style, the novel follows the individual stories of several characters and how they all interact together. His characterisation is quite ingenious in that all his characters have a streak of humanity... weakness and foibles and bravery and selflessness. He taps into an element of quintessential human-ness—there are no exceptional heros here, just people. Because this was Ben Elton’s first novel, his metaphors (to do with monks and cement and erections, for example) weren’t so used. Also, in his later writings he seems to have developed a bitterness about humanity and the way he writes his characters... that isn’t present in his earlier work. At the time of publication (1989) the environmental issue wasn’t the huge deal it is today, and it’s a great thing to produce a work of popular fiction to help bring it into the public consciousness. And, while sometimes he does bang on a bit (how many pages can you write about cats shitting in gardens? I mean, really) I loved this book at the time of reading and I still have a soft spot for it.
There aren’t many people around who hate Ben Elton. And everybody loves a bit of dry and occasionally crass British wit, combined with a sharp insight into human nature that makes you feel both ashamed and pleased to be able to identify with the characters. This book is good for anyone who can identify with a British sense of humor and wants a light read that doesn’t involve switching off your brain.
If you like this book, you would also like...
Try another of Ben Elton’s books! He has lots. If you read them all at once, then you may well get a bit sick of him, but if you space them out and don’t overdo it you’ll be right. Of a similar sense of humour but not weighed down with environmental issues are of course those other irrepressible British authors Douglas Adams and the Grant-Naylor combo.
- Bridget @ www.illiterarty.com.

The Rum Diary. By Hunter S. Thompson.

Fri, 9 Oct 2009 15:25:07 +0800

The Rum Diary is a sweaty, lusty, booze-filled Caribbean odyssey.
Well on his way to defining his self-proclaimed Gonzo genre, even as early as 1959, a youthful Hunter S Thompson delves into the society of San Juan, Puerto Rico, early in it’s systemic colonisation by the United States of America. Thompson’s protagonist “Paul Kemp” is a not-so-youthful thirty-something journalist, hounded by the ubiquitous passage of time and a nagging feeling of misspent youth. Kemp arrives in the Caribbean where beautiful girls are sleeping with anyone but him and his brilliant new career as a journalist is mired in the offices of a clapped out newspaper that threatens to fold and shutdown at every turn.
Though Thompson mostly apes his heroes Hemingway and Fitzgerald throughout the narrative of The Rum Diary the book itself is highly entertaining thanks to Thompson’s eccentric and exciting characterisation and his trademark (though underdeveloped) style of narration. The plot concerns the protagonists journey to Puerto Rico and his subsequent dealings with the vibrant cast of characters constructed within the the sleazy and seductive rum-soaked Caribbean. It is not all youthful abandon and adventure though, throughout Thompson darkly rambles on in notes of futility and disappointment, and at his fever pitch in out right anger, at an unfulfilled promise of grand destinies.
At worst this debut is occasionally bogged down in expository segments where Thompson goes to great lengths to create the “Boy’s Own Adventure” style of setting and narrative favoured by many of his literary idols. At best the Rum Diary is an exotic and highly engaging tale that blooms into acknowledgements of natural beauty in the setting in characters like Chenault, a wild young woman from Connecticut. The Rum Diary is constructed extremely well and sees Thompson excel in his innate and madcap ability to capture insanity and adventure in its moment of existence. His telling of Paul Kemp’s story takes us all over the Caribbean through beach bars and grass hut dance-floors, slimy newspaper headquarters and crystal blue Caribbean oceans, street festivals and picturesque mansions. All the while Thompson’s protagonist remains lovable, if ragged and depressed, and undergoes a sophisticated evolution.
Thompson’s story telling acumen is formidable even at such an early stage in his career and in The Rum Diary he manages to create a beautiful world filled with beautiful characters that are as interesting and compelling as each other.

- Lucifer.