The Memoirs of an Insufferable Ass

For reasons passing understanding, I've always found screenwriter Joe Eszterhas to be a fascinating figure. This, despite the facts that in any interview of his I've ever read he comes off as a complete boor, and that with the exception of Jagged Edge -- which came out almost twenty years ago -- I have never liked any of the movies that resulted from his scripts. Not even Basic Instinct, which is the most poorly-constructed mystery-thriller I've ever seen.

(Caveat: I have not seen Showgirls.)

I guess that ultimately I just find something fascinating, almost morbidly so, about a guy who not only produces crap but is proud to produce crap, and gets paid huge money to keep right on producing crap.

So I checked his memoir out of the library last week. It's called Hollywood Animal, and I've just finished the first chapter. My reaction?

Wow, what an ass.

There's really nothing I can directly quote to illustrate what I mean; it's more the overall tone that's amazing in its ass-ness. It's the tone of a guy who is supremely confident that what he does is of great worth, and of contempt for those who have not managed to achieve what he's achieved. And there's his sexual fixations, which get to be a little much. At one point he relates an incident where he walks into some restaurant and sees William Goldman with some studio execs, whilst Joe -- our hero -- is with a stunning blonde. Ha! Take that, Goldman or whomever!

I have little intention to finish this book, seeing as how it's way longer than my interest in Eszterhas would likely prove sustainable. (It's 724 pages long. But the paragraphs tend to be very short, rarely more than three sentences.) But I do recommend the first chapter, just from the perspective of someone who can't bear to miss a good slow-motion train wreck when one's unfolding somewhere.

(BTW, here's a bit of evidence that I take film music very seriously. At one point, Joe Eszterhas lists a bunch of native Hungarians who ended up in Hollywood, working in the film industry. He omits the man who is my personal favorite gift of Hungary to Hollywood, composer Miklos Rozsa.)