James Robert Parish

There’s a certain satisfaction to watching the best-laid plans of self-important people dissolve into messy chaos. If there wasn’t, there’d be a lot fewer movie scenes involving pie fights at fancy-dress banquets or dogs running amuck at snooty garden parties. Even if you like that kind of thing, though, a little of it goes a long way. A movie consisting of nothing but pie fights would get boring fast. Fiasco -- a series of stories about big-budget Hollywood films that went show more disastrously awry, losing tens or hundreds of millions of dollars in the process – is, basically, that movie. The first chapter is fascinating, the second interesting, the third diverting . . . and then they all start to feel the same.

Part of the problem is the way that Parish chooses his stories. All kinds of Hollywood movies fail, and they fail for all kinds of reasons, but – as he outlines in his introduction – he’s interested in big-budget pictures that went off the rails. All of his case studies, therefore, tend to involve similar kinds of failures: egotistical stars, finicky directors, producers who can’t say no, executives whose reach exceeds their grasp. The details change, but the underlying patterns don’t, and so repetition sets in. Films that failed because of artistic overreach (David Lynch’s Dune), a fatal misreading of the zeitgeist (Blake Edwards’ Darling Lili), or egregious executive meddling (Terry Gilliam’s almost anything) don’t make the cut.

Parish’s narrative “voice” makes matters worse: His insistence on referring to his subjects by their first names makes the whole enterprise read like a gossip column or tell-all memoir, rather than a history – even an informal one – of troubled Hollywood productions. It’s an annoying, distracting choice, and – given that most of the people he’s implying first-name closeness to are being portrayed as egotistical jerks or clueless buffoons – a baffling one. show less

The author suffers from Adjective Thesaurus Disease (I actually laughed out loud when he referred to Arnold Schwarzenegger as "the muscular spinmeister") and it seems like most of the details are taken from press accounts of the various disasters referenced (as opposed to The Studio or The Devil's Candy which had primary sources), but the sheer appeal of schadenfreude for hubristic Hollywood egomaniacs kept me reading through to the end.

I didn't realize that Mel Brooks took his work quite so seriously. I also didn't know how hard he had to work to break into show business. I suppose I should have. Most entertainers are only overnight sensations after they put in years of hard work and paying dues.

I learned a few things about screenwriting and writing comedy, in particular. After writing a script in 30 days myself, working mornings and weekends, I thought someone that devoted full time to it would be able to knock one out in show more a few months. This especially seemed true of Mel Brooks movies, which seem so unrehearsed at times. But no, he took years to write most of them. And he usually did it with a writing partner or two. Comedy is probably easier to write when you have another sense of humor around to fill in your blind spots.

The biographer himself found a good structure for Mel's story and usually writes well. The text is full of attributions, but doesn't come off as a dry academic exercise. The one disappointing spot I found was the very sparse treatment given to developing Blazing Saddles. This is especially puzzling given the importance of this work in bringing Mel into the national spotlight. No matter, I recommend this to anyone that wants to learn more about this great talent. show less

A well-constructed biography covering the very earliest creative days of Jim Henson to his final movie projects. A little over a dozen black and white photos are scattered through the pages including a couple of intriguing behind-the-scenes images. The text is filled with interesting anecdotes and lesser-known stories, although the reading is a little dry and could have been covered with more casual whimsy befitting the subject matter. The book ends with a section on How to Become a show more Filmmaker and another on How to Become a Television Director. show less