Richard Beymer

So, who is Richard Beymer? He was a rising star of the 50s and 60s in Hollywood, right alongside Sal Mineo, James Dean, and Russ Tamblyn. Down the road he acted in this little series called Twin Peaks, which sealed his fate to always be remembered with awed and eccentric affection.

A little quid pro quo happened while undertaking the composition of this review. Richard’s book is intensely personal and I strongly felt led to write as honestly as I can, with as much candor as he did: Richard was my first cinematic love, my only reference point to his work being the movies I was allowed to watch (West Side Story, The Diary of Anne Frank) until I got older. Although I was born in 1957, by which time he had already begun his early film work, and well into adulthood by the time I had seen any of his movies, I could not have cared less. I only knew the image on film; those beautiful eyes and long, expressive hands. Because he has inhabited some portion of my mind and heart, I was thrilled to see him at MySpace. Being asked to write a review of his book before it was published was thus easier said than done, because I didn’t want my childhood feelings, or ideas about, Richard to interfere with the honest feedback I think he wanted.

George Richard Beymer’s book Impostor, is about a lot of things; his short-lived, or at least, sporadic, career in Hollywood, his life, what he’s done, what happened to him, failed relationships, childhood and teenage memories, death, reincarnation, and repeated descents into madness, filtered through perceptions and writings he kept for decades, and the taped and videotaped conversations of other people. It’s one of those pieces of writing where you must pay very detailed attention because he reveals himself mostly in the things he doesn’t say or things that are hinted at.

In Richard’s exploration of self, I was given a rare glimpse into an inner sanctum which explores the question, “What am I doing here in this Madhouse … Again?”, and there is not one iota of self-pity or arrogance to be found. I don’t think the obsession with taping conversations or videotaping people in his attempt to clarify his own existence was born out of maliciousness (acts you will witness should you decide to take this journey). Not all obsessions are vindictive, fucked-up, or evil, even though in the reading you might be given the impression he thinks they are, or might be. The book simply is what it is: obscenely blunt, unutterably sad, wildly imaginative, artistically sensitive, fiercely intelligent, often painfully humorous … and just painful, mixed up in a blendered psychedelic dreamscape of ever-shifting and jarring perceptions and points of view. Characters are not who they seem to be, I was in and out of recognizable time and space; but what it most felt like was Alice down the Rabbit Hole. And this is all quite good, actually. I believe it’s a disorientation the author intends the reader to have: “Now you see George (or, Richard?) now you don’t.”

One of the most striking things about reading the book, for me, were the huge waves of emotion that carried me from one crest to another, not always pleasant, that had me questioning myself, “Shit, he did that?”, “He really said that?” (when reading, you don’t actually know that he did for sure, one way or the other, and that is kind of the beauty of it) but also, “Why did Richard have to endure this and for so long?” What unthinkable essential element drove him to live like an impassive observer trapped within his own head. Was there really any joy, or should I say, “real” joy during this long, long period?

The first night I started reading the book, I woke up in the middle of the night as though from a nightmare and sobbed like a child for long minutes. I knew it was because I could not stand to think of someone suffering in that way, and for so long. Even though I hadn’t read very far (I had read other excerpts he posted at MySpace) I identified with some elements of his self-imposed exile and shutoff from experiencing what was normal and wonderful about life. But if pain, compassion, and love are what link us all together, I think it’s better that I can still feel so much for others despite my own issues, and I’m grateful I got to experience this book and a part of Richard’s life because so many people walk through with their Heart Chakra closed off. Reading his book reminded me that keeping it open is only of value because I would not have appreciated this experience otherwise, nor be so happy that I see a complete individual before me now, not the childhood torch I carried all this time.

Tonya Jarrett, September 29, 2007

This book is listed at Amazon.com. You can go to This link to read what other reviewers have to say.… (more)