Brian Kellow (1959–2018)

How sad to exist in a world where no one younger than you knows about the Best of Broadway, Ethel Merman, a/k/a The Belter. An Astoria, Queens native (and frequently mistaken for being Jewish because of it, making her much less popular outside the New York metropolitan area), Merman starred in such musicals as Annie Get Your Gun (twice, twenty years apart), Anything Goes, Call Me Madam, and her most famous role as Mama Rose in Gypsy. She worked with the finest songwriters - Cole Porter, show more Irving Berlin, Vincent Youmans, and even Sondheim (they did NOT get along) - and her strong and distinctive voice, untrained, unenhanced by amplification (she WAS the amplifier!), made her the Queen of Broadway, when melodies and boy-gets-girl plots ruled muscial theater, from the 1930s to the 1960s. The changes in theater and in the country left her as an anachronism before she was ready to leave the stage and the spotlight. The author does an excellent job of balancing her trumphs with her romantic miseries (a pitiful 30 day union with Ernest Borgnine that was ended by his violence towards her, among four total marriages) and, as an only child, her touching closeness to and dependence on her parents. Not an intellectual by any means, Merman's strength was her ability to conquer a song quickly and to know exactly what was right for her voice, her limited acting talent, and which musical numbers would make a show a guaranteed hit. The author's success is in his acknowlegment of her commanding strengths and her debilitating stubborness. This should be a textbook read for any fan of musical theater history and denizens of used bookstores. show less

In her eulogy for Pauline Kael, her daughter, Gina, said, "Pauline's greatest weakness, her failure as a person, became her great strength, her liberation as a writer and a critic." It's an interesting idea, that one's strengths may be attributable to one's weaknesses, but I think it may sometimes be true. It may even be true in my own case.

Kael, who at one time was the most influential film critic in the country, certainly had her weaknesses. Among these was her treatment of her own show more daughter as a virtual slave, depending upon her to type her reviews, run her errands and provide her transportation, while denying her the freedom to live her own life. Kael's friendships so often depended upon those friends agreeing with her and, at least in the case of other movie critics, not becoming as prominent as she. She allowed herself to be courted by directors and others in the movie business, always insisting a favorable review from her could not be bought, even when so many of her reviews suggested otherwise.

Brian Kellow mentions many other Pauline Kael weaknesses in his 2011 biography "Pauline Kael: A Life in the Dark," yet the book hardly qualifies as a hatchet job, for his emphasis lies with her significant strengths. She was, whether you agreed with her opinions or not, a terrific writer whose prose jumped off the pages of The New Yorker. Although she rarely wrote about anything other than movies, her reviews managed to be commentary on the times, as well. They were also surprisingly autobiographical. Once urged to write her memoirs, Kael replied, "I think I have."

Kellow's book nicely summarizes Kael's most important and controversial reviews and articles over the years, yet I think he too often inserts his own opinions about these films, faulting Kael when her opinions don't match his own, which seems to be what he criticizes Kael for doing. show less

I've spent a lot of time with Pauline Kael over the years. When you become so familiar with a writer, you can sometimes become exasperated with their flaws. But that happens with authors you truly respond to.

I've often wondered whether I would like her as well in person. After reading this book, I'm not so sure. But I'm very happy to learn so much about her life from this excellent book.

Pauline Kael reveled in the notion that movies had a subtext and were more than entertainments. The years she wrote reviews in The New Yorker began during a golden age of moviemaking. She continued on through the era of blockbusters and the beginning of the dominance of CGI over other methods of storytelling.

And although she reveled in strong film storytelling that included nuance, she did not celebrate shades of grey in her own life. Biographer Brian Kellow shows, rather than merely tells, show more how her world view of pro and con shaped the major relationships in her life. Those included her daughter, her grandson, her boss William Shawn and her acolytes, the Paulettes. For the last group, if you didn't take her advice, you were cast out. For her daughter, it meant years of being the practical one who took care of mundane arrangements. For her grandson, who has since died, it mean pure love. And for Mr. Shawn, it meant constant poking and no support, although she certainly sought his recommendations whenever it could help her.

There isn't much actual drama to Kael's life, and Kellow acknowledges this. He gives a great deal of space in his biography to quoting Kael's reviews. And this is fitting. Because the movies were her life. The scope and sweep of an era when movies came of age, when the blockbuster mentality took over and when movie critics had an influential voice in championing films, are the story of Kael's life.

The reviews themselves hold up well. The reviews provide a window into the passionate viewing experience of someone who took each film on its own merits even while upholding overall high standards that art be accomplished. Agreeing or disagreeing with a Kael review remains rewarding, for it engages the reader in reasoned decisions, based on reactions from the heart and the head, on whether the film delivered a rewarding viewing experience.

The value of this biography may not be in recounting the life of its subject, but rather in giving voice once again to its subject as she writes about what she loved most. The reviews quoted are both a history of that time in movie-making and a vibrant demonstration of honest reaction to a work of art that connects that work to its value in the viewer's life. Kellow shows how criticism can be enriching and, in doing that, pays honor to his subject. show less