If you want to experience exhaustion, fatigue, frustration, nausea, anger and violent fantasies read this book.
It chronicles the torturous experience of two highly accomplished married writers, John Gregory Dunne and his wife Joan Didion as they endure belittling, degrading, condescending egos as they work on the screenplay “Up Close and Personal” from the highest echelons of 1990s Hollywood.
Crammed with legal recounting of every meeting, exhaustive snippets of conversations, memos, letters, phone calls, from every agent, executive and actor who crossed paths with Dunne and Didion, in Beverly Hills, Hawaii, Paris, Park Avenue, Spago, The Grill, poolside in Belair, it never ends.
They are always on a plane, always on the phone, always negotiating, notating, reviewing, revising, editing. Years of work on one mediocre screenplay whose survival depends upon the power politics of studio executives high on coke, or low on booze.
And Dunne has heart surgery, collapses while speed walking, drinks to drunkenness, works 25 hours a day , schmoozing, socializing, writing, promoting his own novel, and negotiating with talent agents and Disney to eek out more high pay rewriting dialogue for what turned out to be the biggest bomb of the 1990s.
He is the MAN who knows how Hollywood works. He has a MAN's view of things and even thinks it's whimsical when one of their middle-aged male friends picks up a teen girl for a night of fun. What great times!
And the name dropping! Streisand, Spielberg, Redford, Rudin, OJ Simpson! And that’s just one sentence on one paragraph on one page of two hundred and two! He cannot take a piss in a restroom without bumping into the CEO of MGM.
Everyone they know is a marquee name, all their children are marquee names, nobody is less than very well known and very well connected.
Nobody it seems knew more about films and writing and screenwriting and all the line items in a WGA contract than Mr. John Gregory Dunne. Nobody.