Griffin Dunne

I had a feeling I would love The Friday Afternoon Club: A Family Memoir by Griffin Dunne, and I was not disappointed. He is a wonderful storyteller if you like Hollywood or family memoirs. Dunne, an actor, director, and producer, is the son of Dominick Dunne and the nephew of John Gregory Dunne and Joan Didion. Dominick was also best friends with Carri Fisher. Dunne’s sister, the actress Dominque Dunne, was also brutally murdered by her ex-boyfriend. I could go on, but safe to say his life show more is rich in story.

I picked up the hardcover, lightly chewed upon by my brother’s Corgi’s last visit, and settled in. Luckily, Huxley only chewed a bit on the spine, so the book was still readable, and it was a delight. Dunne certainly inherited the art of telling a good story (it’s probably the Irish part). I hope that, like his father, he makes a late-career change and writes more. This is a perfect read filled with coming-of-age humor, Hollywood tales, family squabbles, and tragic trials. I hear the audio version is good as well.

I enjoyed Griffin Dunne’s stories about Hollywood and growing up privileged in Beverly Hills, a time in the 60s and 70s when teens roamed free. Not many of us have a story that Sean Connery rescued us from drowning in a swimming pool! I also enjoyed his tales of his life in New York, his acting career, and the films he either starred in or produced. One of the films he starred in was Martin Scorsese's After Hours, which has since become a classic look at New York in the 1980s. Hollywood in the 70s and New York in the 80s? Griffin Dunne has seen it all. Who else wouldn’t have wanted to share an apartment with a young, witty Carrie Fisher right before her big Star Wars break?

One story I was particularly interested in was how his father burned down his Hollywood career and ended up in a cabin in Oregon. Dominick made a comeback to become Vanity Fair's Hollywood Trial ace reporter, covering the O.J. trial and others. I miss settling in with a good Vanity Fair trial story in the 90s. Those were the days, and the reason I still subscribe is to have access to the archive.

The trial coverage in the book was heartbreaking, and if you like true-crime or murder shows on streaming, you will not want to miss Dunne’s account from the family’s perspective. You’ll be saddened by the Dunne family's treatment in the court system, and you’ll learn about the family's work (with a spotlight on his mother) to bring about legislation to help victims.

Dunne also mentions a book by a friend of his, and I’m going to mention it here because I think it is an important read for anyone in an abusive situation. The book is called The Gift of Fear by Gavin de Becker, and its gist is to trust your instincts to stay alive. If something tells you not to go down the alley, trust it. If your gut says something is not right about this person, go with it; don’t ignore it. Griffin is honest about how he brushed off warning signs in Dominique’s boyfriend’s personality. I read The Gift of Fear when I was having issues with an ex, and I’ve always felt that reading it then may have saved my life. That is a story for another day.

Dominique was only twenty-three when she was killed, and having co-starred in Spielberg’s Poltergeist, her future had been bright.

When I was working for Waldenbooks, one publisher would send a cardboard display each summer featuring three mass-market paperbacks advertised as this Summer’s Beach Reads. One year, probably 1986, the display contained Dominick Dunne’s The Two Mrs. Grenvilles. I can still see the black Art Deco cover in my head. It was a perfect summer read about rich people and murder, and loosely based on the 1955 murder of William Woodward, Jr., by his wife Ann Woodward.

The Friday Afternoon Club by Griffin Dunne is also a perfect summer beach read, and delightful enough to sit in a Summer Beach read display next to The Two Mrs. Grenvilles. show less

I will admit that I wanted to read Griffin Dunne's book because of his sister, Dominique - Poltergeist is one of my favourite films and her senseless murder and talent cut short have always saddened me. And Dominique is the thread that ties the 'family memoir' together, from brother Griffin's memories of his Hollywood childhood to the harrowing details of her death and the quite frankly infuriating account of her killer's trial.

Before Dominque's death in 1982, Griffin's 'family memoir' is a show more wonderful blend of humour, heart, drama, celebrity, honesty and embroidered 'faction' - I decided to take his account of the past as a well-meaning novelisation of true events, after a certain point (that point being JFK attended Choate not Canterbury with Griffin's dad). He even admits as much himself: 'So, all that time, I was telling a lie based on a lie. This should have come as no surprise, as I had been brought up on stories told by people who loved to tell stories.' That said, I was wonderfully entertained throughout, despite the dark shadow of his sister's death looming from the first chapter. His teenage years, as the 'best friend with benefits' of Carrie Fisher, do read a little like Holden Caulfield does Porky's, but I think most men of a certain generation are always teenage boys obsessed with sex.

I much preferred reading about the Dunne family and their mildly dysfunctional but still loyal and loving relationships, and I had to take a mental break before reading about Dominique. Griffin Dunne a talent for telling tales, like his father and uncle (and aunt), and makes the whole clan feel very familiar and relatable. show less

I had a hard time putting this down. Dunne brings his well-known family to life, including his father, Hollywood producer and writer Dominick Dunne; his uncle, writer John Gregory Dunne; and aunt, author Joan Didion, as well as his indominable mother. There is no glossing over family dysfunction and addictions, but the murder of his sister, actress Dominique Dunne, by her former boyfriend hangs over the lives of Griffin and his family. The opening chapter covers Dunne's mother getting a show more visit late at night by a police officer there to give her the awful news; the last section deals with the aftermath, with the court case and the emotional toll on Griffin and his family, making this more than a typical actor's memoir. show less

The memoir of actor/director/producer Griffin Dunne, The Friday Afternoon Club recounts his fame-adjacent childhood, early acting career, the brutal murder of his sister Dominique in the early '80s, and the failure of the criminal justice system to gain any real justice for her. Dunne's revisiting of the trial is perhaps the most compelling part of the book, and based on what he says here I'd have to agree that the presiding judge could most charitably be described as incompetent.

But on the show more whole, this is a rambling, unstructured work which doesn't justify its existence. Dunne acknowledges his tendency to narcissism but doesn't seem to truly grasp what narcissism is or why it's a character trait to be worked on. He talks frankly about his sexual history, and while it's not the crassest thing you're ever going to read, there's an undercurrent to it all that I found extremely juvenile from a man in his 60s—like reading about Holden Caulfield as a character in one of those '80s sex comedies that have dated very badly. This just doesn't read like the memoir of someone given to much introspection. Plus there are things like his throwaway anecdote about a holiday in Sri Lanka when he was just getting started as an actor. The key thing that Dunne wants us to know about it is that he got surrounded by “swarms of children” who pulled at his “sari” (? does he mean sarong?), children whom he more than once thinks of as “little cannibals.” What a thing to write even with the benefit of 40 years of hindsight—what a thing for an editor to let pass by in the 2020s!

I picked up this book because it was marketed as a sparkling memoir by Carrie Fisher's best friend—sparkling it ain't, and honestly if he and Fisher really were that close, it does kind of retrospectively lower my sense of how good a judge of people she was. show less