Con su fino sentido del humor, David Mamet. creador iconoclasta, pone en tela de juicio el papel de la crítica cinematográfica contemporánea y el fenómeno de la audiencia. Un título recién editado en Estados Unidos que, de forma simultánea, Alba Editorial pone al alcance del lector español.
David Alan Mamet is an American author, essayist, playwright, screenwriter and film director. His works are known for their clever, terse, sometimes vulgar dialogue and arcane stylized phrasing, as well as for his exploration of masculinity.
As a playwright, he received Tony nominations for Glengarry Glen Ross (1984) and Speed-the-Plow (1988). As a screenwriter, he received Oscar nominations for The Verdict (1982) and Wag the Dog (1997).
Mamet's recent books include The Old Religion (1997), a novel about the lynching of Leo Frank; Five Cities of Refuge: Weekly Reflections on Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy (2004), a Torah commentary, with Rabbi Lawrence Kushner; The Wicked Son (2006), a study of Jewish self-hatred and antisemitism; and Bambi vs. Godzilla, an acerbic commentary on the movie business.
Bambi vs. Godzilla is the name of a much-beloved movie short from many, many years ago. It of course was followed by the similarly brief, “Bambi’s Revenge”. In the context of this review, however, it is a book by acclaimed author, playwright, and filmmaker, David Mamet.
In this witty (at times hilarious) reflection on the movie business, the author discusses everything about the film industry that he and we (little gossips that we are) want to know. As far as how the business operates and how it kills those that work in the field, it is fairly commonplace. But what lifts this from the mean are two things:
1) Mr. Mamet’s insights (and the prose to express them) about creating films 2) Mr. Mamet’s personal take on the films of the past 125-odd years
By my count, he names (for good, bad, or just a reference) 188 films in this book of only 206 pages (before the Appendix & Index). Many inclusions are just the name as it is used to illustrate a point. Others are a brief in-text synopsis to add emphasis to a point or thought. And others are a lengthy dissection of a movie, a scene, or even just a shot. It is all fascinating.
You do not need to be a film historian to enjoy this book. Likewise you do not need to be someone of his political, religious, or any other persuasion. The ideas and quality of the writing will suffice. Young or old it will read well.
Since he recounts episodes from his own and other’s lives (including his children) there are old, new, comedic, tragic, talking and silent movies in here. It’s a book that has something for everyone (unless you are a faceless suit in the producer’s chair.)
I’ll add one personal anecdote. On Saturday morning I read the first 100 pages. In which he talks about a perfect movie, The Lady Eve, written and directed by Preston Sturges. Fast-forward to Saturday evening after grilling and eating a feast for my parents and other family members. We retire to the parlour and what should be on the old-time movie channel, but The Lady Eve. And even though we missed the first few minutes, we were all immediately hooked. In those three acts we saw a masterful story with great acting and great writing. Talk about serendipity. It won’t displace Casablanca in my heart, but boy was it good!
Four and-some-change (4.25) Stars for an excellent and timely book!
Mamet’s dialogue in film usually keeps me entertained, in his actual books, I’m less engaged. His words here, appear written mostly for himself, not to entertain an audience.
Read it if you like, but it’s not one I will reread again.
These short, funny, observational essays give you a flavor of being a movie maker in Hollywood. Mamet also shares his thoughts about specific actors through film history. Noel Coward was brilliant in his few films. Mamet find Laurence Olivier mostly unwatchable. I had never thought of Olivier as unwatchable, but I haven't been able to get through his Henry V or Hamlet no matter how many times I'm told he is quintessential.
There is a good rundown on how his screenplay for the Verdict was re-written countless times before Sidney Lumet came along and decided to use his original version. That alone shows you how few people in Hollywood understand great writing. The Verdict was one of the best screenplays of the decade. Not a wasted a moment. I'm sure the studio was trying to shoot or explode something.
The heart of the matter. The man behind the curtain. The process of filmmaking condensed down to its very basic elements with a wry sense of humor written just for the most masochistic job in the industry: the screenwriter. If you like your coffee black, your toast dry and your yogurt plain, this is for you. Expect mysteries to be solved and dreams to dissolve. In a good way.
A good line: Q. Is it possible to engross the audience when the end of the quest is already known? Yes. Mark Twain wrote of U.S. Grant's personal memoirs that they were so well written as to make one wonder who was going to win the Civil War.
The book itself was a tough read. He seems to try to make his points in such an obtuse manner that it's difficult to understand his point.
He asks the question, what does a producer do. But never fully answers it.
I like his brief description of a scene from the movie, "Contact", one that I've always regarded as being unique.
"Another magnificient effect is the running-upstairs shot in "Contact" (director Rober Zemekis, cinematographer Don Burgess), in which the camera pulls the hero, a little girl, down a corridor, up the steps, and toward a medicine cabinet holding the drugs that will save her father from his heart attack. She reaches forward, and the shot of her face becomes a shot of a medicine cabinet. the camera, however, does not move. That is, it is as if the entire shot were, somehow, a reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. A stunning effect."
It's worth watching the movie for that scene alone.
While dismissing critics, this book is a critique. While writing that dialogue and talking are not as important as the scenes in a movie (that in fact, silent movies were perhaps better) he uses many and big words in his sentences. The ax that he suggests one uses in the cutting room clearly wasn't used in the book. And that's what a successful writer/director does. He who rides, decides. There be gold among the rocks in this book, but gold shared from other sources: a career soldier who counsels us to never give a recruit a weapon or an officer a map. We discover the famous best-actor-ever that Mamet thinks was meh. We are confused as to whether Mamet considers himself Bambi or Godzilla, but we have confirmed what we already knew about Hollywood hierarchy in general - the closer to the top you are, the less you care about good art; and writers are so much dust beneath everyone's feet. Watch State & Main, Mamet's insider look at the movie biz. It's a lot more fun.
What was I thinking. Just because I like one of his screenplays (Wag the Dog) and two of his films (The Spanish Prisoner, The Winslow Boy) I figured I'd enjoy this book. NWJ. Not only is it written in a semi-stream of consciousness style, he doesn't name names and specify the films of which he's critical. ONE saving grace: the appendix in the back is an exhaustive, alphabetical listing of every single film he references in the book. So that was a boon to my Netflix. Proceed with caution.
I got this book from the library and I have to say that it was a funny book to read. Just its title alone--a knowing reference to one of the more famous short films of the late 1960's--gives an idea of the sort of humorous writing that this book will contain. And, truth be told, this book is clearly written to an insider audience. Anyone who reads this book will care a lot about the movie business and will likely be a writer, as it seems that writers are those who read books for the most part [1]. At any rate, this book has all the hallmarks of a book written for insiders, with inside jokes as well as a sort of openness that comes when a writer expects to write for a sympathetic audience. To be sure, this is not a book written with critics in mind, who the author seems not to like, but rather is written for those who could consider themselves fans or at least people who are somewhat idealistic if also a bit cynical about how the movie industry works.
In terms of its contents and structure, the book has a laid back and somewhat rambling but also deeply entertaining feel to it. The book begins with a discussion about the good people of Hollywood, which in the minds of the author mostly means the writers and crew members who toil to create art that is not particularly appreciated by those who make the most money. The author also talks candidly about Jews and show business and discusses his ideas on population genetics and the like. After this comes a few chapters on the repressive mechanism that tends to encourage bad films and an improper response to film on the part of many producers and their sycophants. A few entertaining and practical chapters on screenwriting follow, including the way that screenwriters tend to be, in the author's rather provocative language, raped and accused of theft by many producers, as well as three important questions for any screenwriter to ask about his or her script: Who wants what from whom? What happens if they don't get it? Why now? Some chapters on learning technique in filming by experience follow, as well as some basic principles about dramatic distance and setting up the enjoyment of delayed gratification and the compact between filmmakers and the audience. After this come some rather humorous discussion on genre, including the cop movie, film noir, religious films, and the author's thoughts on sequels. At this point the author gets into the swing of passing judgment on critics and actors, some of it positive and some of it negative, before closing on his views of the crimes and misdemeanors of the film industry, particularly as it relates to manners and the purpose of the Oscars, with some lovely closing material including an annotated list of films referenced in the book.
At a bit more than 200 pages this is certainly an enjoyable book to read. As someone who is both a prolific critic of books as well as a prolific writer of original material (including quite a few plays), I am not sure the extent to which I am considered as a member of one category of reader or another. I did not agree with everything the author said, and certainly we have very different political and moral worldviews to be sure, but at the same time I felt this author to be someone who defended the artist and thought it important that those who make films maintain a level of respect for the audience and what the audience wants from a film. The author also points out the stress and difficulties faced by people who want to make art in a world that values the bottom line and tends to want to make fewer and fewer films as time goes on in order to take fewer risks on films with small budgets and niche audiences that might actually have the chance to be worth remembering decades from now.
Безжалостен поглед към света на киното от един вътрешен човек, който е жив класик на американската драматургия, както и действащ режисьор. Тези кратки есета всъщност представляват курс по сценарно писане, но и част от курс по актьорство и режисура.
Мамет дава десетки примери, от които съм си набелязал около 20 филма за гледане. Той не спира да критикува продуцентите, защото намира, че именно те са отговорни за упадъка в киното. Както казва самият той, в неговата младост продуцентът на един филм е бил един. А сега са най-малко седем...
От книгата можете да научите много за това как се пише, как се презентира пред големите акули и малките пирани и какво можете да очаквате. От което можете да си извадите изводи как да се застраховате в тази кръвожадна сред��, в която истинските творци често се оказват едни крехки сърнички като Бамби, които по селата на обстоятелствата влизат в неравна битка с продуцентските Годзили.
I had read this as a teenager but couldn't remember much. Now that I've given it a re-read, I can understand why.
Mamet calls critics "a plague", but allow me to contribute to the sickness for a paragraph or two.
I found the book to be a little aimless, trying to touch upon so many facets of the industry while also being a collection of philosophical essays. Most of the film references are 70 to 80 years old, so it will give you plenty of homework if you aren't well versed in pre-1960s Hollywood. I feel like I might remember a quip or two from this book as time passes, but I can't grip onto much. It's light fare written like it is meant to be some hard-hitting text.
Many of the insights are amusing, however. I enjoy his no-nonsense approach to the work, and much of the advice to writers and actors seems very sound. I wouldn't thrust this into anyone's hands, but am happy to keep it on the shelf.
The thoughts about the movie industry here ring true, but the writing style does not make for an easy read. The sentence level constructions are at (frequent) times so unnecessarily "erudite" as to make the simple sentiment being discussed lost in the word salad. I almost stopped reading several times, but pushed through since it's so short. Now I wish I had just stopped.
This is a truly bizarre book in which Mamet says fascinating things about art and production and negotiation, but also deploys Pinker to (I think, tongue in cheek) suggest that Ashkenazi Jews have a genetic predisposition to be good film directors. It's a book that goes to a lot of different places is what I'm saying.
Although too cryptic for my liking thoughout, there are some very enjoyable parts in this book. I particularly enjoyed the section on "principles" which reminded me of the "golden rules of film" that I've contributed to in the past.*
I liked his list of films which pass themselves off as expose or heartfelt when in reality the maker and the viewer seem to enjoy the whole thing - e.g. Canadian Love Story or The Green Mile. Likewise his disregard for marketers and their "focus groups" which can be likened to some of the nonsense we see in the publishing industry - "Canny test marketers hold focus groups at test screenings and quiz the audience on the film they've just seen. 'What scenes did you like least?' Those in which the hero was in danger. 'What character did you like least?" The villain. Oh, sigh."
He's at his best with aphorisms such as:
"Most films are bad. They are, finally, just advertisements for themselves - elongated movie trailers, envisioned and cut with less skill than the trailer itself."
"The newspaper, whatever its flag of convenience, exists to sell sex, gore and outrage. Much like the movies."
* Films which display one of the following criteria are to be avoided (there will be one exception to every rule):
1. "Brit Flick" 2. "Starring": Sean Pertwee; Jude Law; Rhys Ifans; Julian Sands; Val Kilmer; Danny Dyer; Jason Stratham; Shannon Tweed; Sharon Stone. 3. Endorsements on poster from celebrity/gossip/lads/fashion mags and/or blogs or tabloids. 4. "From the Producers of..." used in an ad. 5. Prequel / Remake 6. Film versions of TV shows (excepting sci-fi) 7. Starring actors who are really pop stars (especially in a lead role) but excluding rappers (since 1980). 8. Genres such as torture porn / erotic thriller / posh-boy-violence-loving 9. Affectation / self-aware / self-conscious / kookiness 10. Anything involving the Wayans Brothers, Michael Bay or Michael Winner 12. Piggy backing / cross referenced marketing tags - it's X meets Y 13. Films about sport
I enjoy David Mamet's movies (and plays) very much, so was slightly disappointed with this book. He certainly has a funny, casual, easily readable style, and he knows his subject, having worked in Hollywood for 30 years or so. But the book is broken into many many short chapters, many of which are just 3 or 4 pages long, so it was difficult for me to really settle in. He'd bring up a topic, relte a pithy anecdote, then move along. Time after time I found myself wishing that he'd slow down, give more examples, and go deeper.
Still worth a read if you're interested in Hollywood or in Mamet, but you'll probably finish it in a day.
I love The Untouchables and The Edge, and sure, its undeniable that Mamet is a very perspective and intelligent person. But he writes like such a dick! There’s a lot of gold in this book, lots of valid, fascinating ideas, but to get to it you have to filter through Mamet’s preposterous writing style: SO pompous and pretentious and unnecessarily show-offy wanky. The interesting themes within the text – for example: story is key, the rest is superfluous – are ironically lost in his vomittious purply prose. The best part of the book is the title, and tellingly Mamet didn’t even come up with it himself.
He certainly isn't a fan of producers. As a screenwriter, I found his insight into storytelling in screenwriting to be enlightening and inspiring. His writing, though, was a little extravagant and bombastic, as well as, at times, inaccessible, but I was with him in what he had to say on the subject of film and the entertainment industry. It was engaging.
Fucking perfect. I am never, ever gonna even try and explain anything about the show business, or screenwriting, or Jews, ever again. I can never do it as well as Mamet has here. If you are interested in the above-listed things...this is your book.
Favorite quote: "The audience will not suffer, wonder, discover or rejoice to any extent greater than to which the writer has been subjected."
Mamet is one of my favorite screenwriters. His style is terse and no-nonsense, and he brings his wit and years of acquired wisdom to a tell-all commentary on the movie industry. Good summer reading for movie buffs.
Mamet writing about the "nature" of Hollywood. Scathing, hilarious, and honest. Most of these were published elsewhere and are available via google search, but a centralized collection is worth the investment.
Psychoanalysis is an attempt to discern in ostensibly unconnected actions and images a simple, hidden, unifying theme and, as such, may be seen as the absolute and perfect inversion of the dramatist's work. The dramatist begins with a theme, or quest, and endeavors to describe its progression in ostensibly unconnected actions and images that will, at the quest's conclusion, be revealed as unified, and that revealed unity will simply state the theme, which revelation will--just as, theoretically, with the revelation by the analysis--restore order. (64-5)
An absence of sentimentality is a great thing in a writer and separates the merely good from those who actually have something to say. (72)
I, in my ignorance, was stunned. I didn't realize that it was my job to be politically acceptable. I'd always thought society employed me to be dramatic; further, I wondered what force had so perverted the young that they would think that increasing political enfranchisement of a group rendered a member of that group incapable of error--in effect, rendered her other than human. For if the subject of art is not our maculate, fragile, and often pathetic humanity, what is the point of the exercise? (76)
As a writer, your yetzer ha'ra (evil inclination) will do everything in its vast power to dissuade you from asking these questions of your work. You will tell yourself the questions are irrelevant as the scene is "interesting," "meaningful," "revelatory of character," "deeply felt," and so on; all of these are synonyms for "it stinks in ice." You may be able to dissuade your yetzer ha'ra by insisting that you were and are a viewer before you were a writer, and that as a writer, these three questions are all you want to know of a scene. (85)
The bedtime stories we have heard or told are dramas, and each partakes of the same natural form as the improvisations listed above: once upon a time, and then one day, and just when everything was going well, and just at the last moment, and they all lived happily ever after. This is the form we learn at Mother's knee, and it is the form we apply in order to understand life. It casts us, the listener, as hero of our own personal drama, as, of course, we are, and it explains that drama to us in the way nature has fitted us to understand it: as a simple, honest attempt to achieve a worthwhile goal. (89)
Bishop Berkeley wrote that the test of truth is "Would you trust your life to it?" (94)
No one on any set, or in any cutting room, knows the difference (if such there is) between realism and naturalism--they are merely "telling a story with pictures." (107-8)
More wisdom from Billy Wilder, of the audience: "Individually, they're idiots. Collectively, they're a genius." Anyone who speaks of the audience's understanding as diminished has never had to make a living by appealing to them. If it's coherent, they will get it. The filmmaker's job is not to pander to them but to make his vision coherent. (115-6)
Sun Tzu instructs, in his Art of War, to treat the opponent as if he were an employee00to ask, that is, what motivates him and to act accordingly. The moviemaker, similarly, must treat the audience member not as an adversary but as an associate. (119)
Life, in the art of the drama or of the carver, cannot be aped, and the attempt to remove the element of chance must doom the project absolutely. For another name for "chance" is "mystery," and another name is "art." The artist carver, director, writer, or actor brings a (conscious or unconscious) understanding of the mystery of human interaction to his task. And it is this ineffable element (not the mechanic verisimilitude) that attracts the audience. And it is this artistry that attracts the duck. Just as the decoy cannot be all things to an incoming duck, the film cannot be all things to an audience. Better that it should be some thing, that it convey the desire of the filmmaker to tell a story rather than their desire to earn a living. (120-1)
Te untutored mistake effect for cause. Their logical fantasy: that in the successful drama we want to know more about the hero, therefore a drama can be made successful by telling the audience more about him. Now, the more the audience is told about the hero--the more their legitimate, indeed, induced desire is gratified--the less they care. For they have signed on to follow his journey in anticipation, glee, and dread. When the author indulges his ability to frolic away from the described path (the path, the sole path, to which the audience has vouchsafed its interest), the less interested the audience becomes. (125)
We didn't care [that the actor could play the piano] till the filmmaker brought it up, at which point we realized that, rather than being told a story, we were being shown a demonstration. We took off our "audience" hat and put on our "judge" hat. We judged tghe demonstration conclusive but, in so doing, got yanked right out of the drama. The aesthetic distance had been violated. (128)
The psychoanalyst may, indeed, fall in love with the patient, and the two may conclude that indulgence in their overwhelming ardor excuses the doctor's violation of the role of analyst. All well and jolly, but the moment they start fooling around, the special case relaxation of societal norms (in this case regarding self-disclosure) that permitted the analysand to speak freely is revoked and the analysis is, effectively, over. (128)
The circus, the vaudeville, and, indeed, performance art please through the presentation of individually complete, intellectually empty effects (tricks, turns), such that the progress, one to the next, mimics the emotional journey undergone by the listener involved in the progression of an actual drama. The work of arranging the circus, vaudeville, or burlesque turns in the best possible order is called "routining," a most revealing term meaning "optimally ordering the arbitrary." (130)
The dramatic experience is essentially the enjoyment of the postponement of enjoyment. The mouth waters at the prospect of a delicious meal; the palms sweat in anticipatory delight of sex. The enjoyment of the pseudodramatic entertainment has nothing to do with anticipation. It is, not only aesthetically but physiologically, akin to actual iingestion or congress. (130)
"Affliction drama" similarly, appeals to two of the viewer's weak spots: a desire to be politically responsible (or fashionable) and the intention to be compassionate. Overlooked in the transaction, however, is the imaginary nature of the presentation. The heroes, their desire, and their afflictions are not real. The viewer rewards hiimself for his compassion for a fictional victim. His compassion has cost him nothing; to the contrary, its exercise has been enjoyable--it was an entertainment. (134)
Any actual contact with violence, however, creates an abhorrence of violence. Ex-fighters, ex-police officers, and ex-soldiers are notable for their lack of belligerence; to the contrary, those displaying arrogance or combativeness have generally never experienced or seen actual violence--their belligerence masks their fear and displays their ignorant belief that battles are somehow won by intimidation. Violent encounters are won only by those putting themselves at risk of violence. Though a true hero does so, the audience does not. They, thus, enjoy what they perceive as a real thrill of victory without risk. (139)
The illusion of impunity has pervaded our national conflicts since Korea--as if it were possible to prevail against a foreign country without killing and being killed. The misconceived antisepsis of the Vietnam air war, of Grenada, of Iraq I and II reveals a view of impunity like that of the moviegoer. (140)
The adolescent or preadolescent is at war not with the world but with his parents. His mutually exclusive needs for support and for freedom seem incapable of happy resolution, and this impossibility tortures him. He, like the rogue cop, withdraws or is temporarily expelled from the police department--the repressive organization. He is called back for one more case and, in attempting its solution, is forced to resolve the underlying cause of disruption. That cause is revealed to be not his behavior, in any given instance, and not the supposed "crime" (for, physiologically, he, the hero, and we, the viewer, must know himself to be the perpetrator) but his relationship to his parents. (143)
On, in terms of my particular metier: hold the emotion, thanks; we understand. The attitude has been tagged as stoicism, but perhaps it's just professionalism--why not let the audience have the experience? (148)
The perfect film is the silent film, just as the perfect sequence is the silent sequence. Dialogue is inferior to picture in telling a film story. A picture, first, as we know, is worth a thousand words; the juxtaposition of pictures is geometrically more effective. If a director or writer wants to find out if a scene works, he may remove the dialogue and see if he can still communicate the idea to the audience. (152)
These films employ variations on the Santa Claus myth of godhood, that is, they borrow a biblical model of apotheosis, cleanse it of terror and awe, and present it as light-hearted entertainment. (153)
There we have not only the actor's fantasy but also his understanding of his life and his life's work: He is allowed, encouraged, and, if gifted, driven to cast himself in various enjoyable, demanding roles and situations. These situations may not be noble, but the work, and the joy of exploring them, is. (174-5)
The choice of a date, a mate, a home, a name for the baby are all transcendently subjective. Each is an assertion of an individual's understanding of his right to joy; none, finally, is capable of analysis. By each,the individual asserts that there is a mystery in life and that he is entitled to participate in it. (177)
And so, now firmly self-understood as part of a jury, he utters the phrase that is the foundation of society and the death of art: "What do you think?" Consensus, enshrined as right thinking, ensues, and the stage is set for mediocrity. (178)
The author has an incisive, insider view of the movie industry and is not afraid to tell it as he sees it. I found the book both compelling (hard to put down, written in nice short chapters, each a self-contained essay) and frustrating at the same time.
The author is clearly a very clever and erudite man; but I found his style of writing got in the way of the message. I had to keep my dictionary by my side throughout and wondered at times if he was being paid by the comma. I am thankful to have my vocabulary enhanced but it seemed to me that he chose to use the most obscure terms when something simpler would have been more effective.
As they say in Apocalypse Now after the crew barely survive their encounter with the tiger: "Just stay on the boat." As illustrated in the extended Director's cut of that film, which added back scenes that had originally been cut for time, whose presence I think mostly served to slow down the progress of the story - a cardinal sin in the author's view!
That said, I may be getting too hung up on style here. If you're looking for a "tell-all" this isn't your book. If you are looking for an interesting philosophical take on the business of both Hollywood, and creativity in general, it has much to offer. And Mamet can be quite funny.
Ind i mellem må jeg indrømme, at en bogs titel og / eller omslag er det eneste, der lokker. Jeg stødte allerede for flere år siden på titlen her, og blev nysgerrig, fordi - hvad? Bambi vs Godzilla? Det kan man da ikke! Titlen var altså den primære drivkravt i forhold til at få mig til at læse med. Desværre kunne handlingen ikke helt leve op til forventningerne - der er kun et enkelt kapitel dedikeret til noget, der har specifikt med Bambi og Godzilla at gøre, og det nærmest kun som en sidebemærkning. Resten handler om, hvordan filmindustrien kører, hvilket i og for sig kunne være interessant nok at lære mere om i mine øjne, men det er simpelthen så rodet og uorganiseret, at det ikke er til at finde rundt i, og det er svært at blive ved med at holde koncentrationen. Derudover undrede referencerne til jødedommen mig en del. Jeg respekterer, at forfatteren er jøde - det skal han da have lov til - men jeg havde ofte svært ved at se, hvorfor det absolut skulle kobles på det, der blev forsøgt forklaret i bogen.
While I love David Mamet's writing, this collection of short essays on what makes and doesn't make for quality in the movies doesn't hang together very well. Harlan Ellison did this kind of trenchant writing even better a generation ago. Individually the pieces are interesting, funny at times, small bursts of insight, but not enough. We do get a few good movie recommendations out of it.
There's a delightful short short animated film called “Bambi Meets Gozilla” by Marvin Newman which can be found on youtube, which is where Mamet picked up his title. It's worth the 90 second view, most of which are the credits. In Mamet's book “Bambi” is the screenwriter/director auteur, and “Godzilla” is the studio system. Somehow, every now and then, Bambi wins and we get a good movie.
La cáscara de esto sería: el detrás de escena de las incontables batallas que se libran en la industria del cine. Pero es sólo la superficie.
Qué es el drama y qué función tiene el arte en general, en la vida, pero más que todo, cómo se configura éste en la enorme maquinaria hollywoodense. Es impactante cómo ya en estas líneas, 2007, se advertían ciertas cuestiones que hoy lamentablemente están más presentes que nunca. Secuelas y afiches de películas donde lo que más se ve son los nombres de treinta productores distintos. En fin.
Disparos sin piedad hacia todo y todos, pero el autor se permite momentos de amor también: la verdad es que habla de lo que ama con la misma pasión que habla de lo que odia.
Por supuesto, con esa precisión quirúrgica de siempre para las observaciones socio-políticas acerca de este mundo en ruinas que caminamos. Esencial Mamet.
Mamet is a brilliant writer, and the prose sparkles with clever turns of phrase. The book is a collection of opinion pieces about the movie industry, and Mamet has more than his share of opinions. Often though, after reading the same basic points three or four times, what had seemed insightful the first time comes across as being strident and even grumpy.
Perhaps of greater value than his general comments about the movie industry are the analyses he gives of how certain exemplary films are constructed. These are the pieces where his wit shines the brightest and his insights are the most illuminating.
Extremely all over the place and in desperate need of an editor. Mamet grates across my law-review nerves with wild attempts at revealing The Meaning of Everything, unnecessary flourishes of language, intermittent incomprehensibility, and, of course, all the confidence in the world. I’m sure you could find a dozen sentences in here that completely contradict other ones. But occasionally he stumbles upon gold, so that’s where the 3 stars comes from (rounding up from 2.5). I particularly enjoyed his meditation on the insanities of the casting process. I particularly did not enjoy that he seems to think everyone else thinks about sex the same way and as often as he does.
Worthwhile for writing advice, diatribes various, and thoughtful reviews of classic 20th century filmography.
David Mamet philosophises on how to cope with critics, hates critics anyway, but approves of online aggregators, which are more akin to 'gossip'.
The problem with focus groups and producers? They watch films not as an audience ready to be entertained, but as interested parties trying to look smart, and protect their financial interests. Edit like a reader - the most important lesson.
This book starts off great but becomes increasingly more scattered and less thoughtful. The last third of the book are disconnected musings on different aspects of the movies. That can still be interesting, but often Mamet gets too caught up with word games, and isn't really saying anything. Or is saying something that could be said in one sentence rather than three or four pages.
That being said, his voice is fun, and he the first two thirds of the book are thoughtful, exciting, and honest.
Mamet is a clearly gifted, prolific writer; his writing feels both natural and unique. I'm sure some filmmakers and cinephiles will find his mixture of adoration and damnation surrounding film trends and business practices to be entertaining and invigorating; the writing style became somewhat of a distraction for me and made it harder for me to maintain interest.