The basis for a lavish new drama series from Hamilton creator Lin-Manuel Miranda, Fosse is the definitive book on one of Broadway's and Hollywood's most complex and dynamic icons.
The only person ever to win Oscar, Emmy and Tony awards in the same year, Bob Fosse revolutionised almost every facet of American entertainment. A ground-breaking dancer, choreographer, and theatre and film director, his innumerable achievements include Cabaret, All That Jazz and Chicago, one of the longest-running Broadway musicals ever. Yet his offstage life was equally dramatic, marked by deep psychological wounds and insatiable appetites.
In this richly detailed and beautifully written biography, Sam Wasson draws on a wealth of unpublished material and over 300 interviews with Fosse's family, friends, enemies, lovers and collaborators, many of them speaking publicly about Fosse for the first time. Fosse is a book bursting with energy and style, pleasure and pain - much like the man himself.
SAM WASSON is the author of the New York Times bestseller Fifth Avenue, 5 A.M .: Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany's, and the Dawn of the Modern Woman and two works of film criticism. He is a visiting professor of film at Wesleyan University.
After reviewing the entertaining FX miniseriesFosse/Verdon a month ago, I became very curious about the book the show was based on: Sam Wasson’s biography of the legendary director and choreographer Bob Fosse.
I’m glad I read it, even though carrying the thick brick of a book around practically dislocated my shoulder.
I’ve always loved what I’d seen of Fosse’s work: the film version of Cabaret, arguably the best movie musical ever made; the sleek, sexy, long-running revival of Chicago, with choreography “in the style of Bob Fosse” by Fosse’s former protégé and then girlfriend, Ann Reinking; and the self-indulgent but brilliant autobiographical film All That Jazz, which I probably first saw when I was way too young to understand it.
I’d also seen things like the tribute musical Fosse, which began life in Toronto (where I interviewed Fosse’s wife, a living legend herself, Gwen Verdon), before going on the road and ending up on Broadway, where it won the best musical Tony, and various video clips of Fosse’s dancing – by himself and others.
I also knew about his reputation for sleeping with his female dancers, a subject that makes reading this book, especially post-#MeToo/Time’s Up, extremely difficult at times.
For what it’s worth, throughout his life Fosse blamed a lot of his messed up behaviour on the fact that his mother let him perform as a barely post-pubescent kid in Chicago’s strip circuit in the 1940s. The burlesque dancers would often titillate him backstage, even going so far as to masturbate him before he went onstage. Um, yeah, that would definitely create some sort of boundary problems down the road...
Fosse’s first-hand knowledge of the seedier aspects of show business always gave his work a gritty feel. As a director, choreographer and sometime writer, he was often drawn to stories of humble outcasts who tried to climb up the ladder of success: Sweet Charity, Roxie Hart, the decidedly unglamorous dancers at Cabaret’s Kit Kat Club. Even Dorothy Stratton, the subject of his controversial final film, Star 80, falls into this category.
Fosse set out wanting to become a musical theatre performer, like his idol Fred Astaire, but while he worked hard, he just didn’t have that quality that translates into superstardom.
Instead, he found a way to capitalize on what he saw as his failings – his lack of formal ballet training, the limitations of his body – to create his own dance language, one that simultaneously harkened back to vaudeville and yet seemed coolly contemporary. And he had a gift for working with dancers. Some of the book’s best sequences are set in the dance studio, where we see him concocting moves and trying them out with dancers; and we hear accounts from hoofers themselves about Fosse’s process.
Wasson’s descriptions of actual numbers - like the Kiss Me Kate duet Fosse choreographed for himself and Carol Haney – are so brilliantly written you’ll want to YouTube them right after.
Some of the most moving parts of the book recount his sympathy for artists auditioning for him. He would try to make the environment as comfortable as possible so a performer could do his or her best work under these difficult circumstances.
And almost everybody he worked with – even those women who ended up sleeping with him – has good things to say about him.
Wasson uses an interesting technique to tell Fosse’s story. After a brief prologue set at his star-studded memorial, for which he had allocated funds in his will for his closest friends to attend, each chapter is titled after the number of years before the man’s death. The final one is titled: “One Hour And Fifty-Three Minutes.” Then the final curtain comes down on his life.
The book is filled with lots of fascinating details. I didn’t know, for instance, that Fosse’s original stage version of Chicago was up against the groundbreaking musical A Chorus Line for the Tony Awards in 1976, which is kind of like a show having to go up against Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton. Also, if Fosse had a nemesis, it was A Chorus Line’s Michael Bennett. (Fosse bad-mouthed the show publicly several times.)
The book also recounts Fosse’s fights with his Lenny star, Dustin Hoffman, and how Richard Dreyfuss, who was originally slotted to star in All That Jazz, backed out. Michael Jackson was a fan, and always wanted to work with him.
Fosse married several times, each time to a woman whose talent he admired. He remained married to Verdon years and dozens of affairs after their domestic relationship ended. The purest and perhaps sweetest relationship he had in his life was with his daughter by Verdon, Nicole, who acts as a producer on Fosse/Verdon.
And though Fosse was always obsessed with talented women (Verdon and Reinking, of course, but also his second wife, Joan McCracken, Jessica Lange and Minnelli), his closest friendships were with fellow male artists (most of them writers, incidentally) like Paddy Chayefsky, Herb Gardner, Neil Simon and E.L. Doctorow, some of whom he lunched with regularly at a midtown deli.
It says something about the man’s massive talent – not to mention his workaholism – that he won a Tony Award (Pippin), an Oscar (Cabaret) and an Emmy (Liza With A Z) – all in one year, 1973, a feat that has never been matched.
What’s missing from this book is an epilogue that puts Fosse’s legacy in a proper context. It would have been nice to touch on the huge success of the Chicago revival, and why the original was so ahead of its time back in the 1970s.
But for theatre lovers wanting an in-depth look at one of entertainment’s true originals, this is an absolute must-read.
One of the biggest problems with a book about a dancer/choreographer is that no matter how colourful the descriptions (and Wasson REALLY likes description…) you can’t see the performances. I found myself going over and over again to YouTube to look for clips so that I could actually see what was being described. I almost wished that this had been done as a documentary, rather than a written biography.
My background – in addition to writing – is in theatre, and my love for Broadway knows no limits, and so I’ve been a fan of Bob Fosse’s work, and his style, for years. Yet it amazed me how much I didn’t know: the projects he worked on that I hadn’t heard of; the projects he worked on and then abandoned; and especially, the heart of a performer who wanted to be a star, and had to settle for being a star choreographer (something that would have been an oxymoron before Fosse came along) and director.
Bob Fosse was a complex man, and yet at the heart of him, he was...
In some ways I think I know the author of "Fosse," Sam Wasson, about as well as he wants us to know the mercurial, obsessed genius/fraud/friend/lover/motherfucker that apparently was Bob Fosse. As much as Fosse possessed others in his ceaseless search for art through love-or was it love through art?-Wasson is equally obsessed with his subject, seemingly trying to creep into his skin, to bring us as well to be co-inhabitants with him so that he, and we, trudge merrily along through the emotional wreckage of Fosse's life. He often succeeds in letting us inside this very complex artist, but I would have wished for more of the journalist's or historian's craft in writing this story. Example: the book begins with the first chapter heading, "Sixty," so we know this is a countdown in years to a death foretold. Well and good. But when he does die, so does the book. The women-wives, lovers and more lovers, his daughter, his coterie of friends, even his shows-die as Fosse dies. FIN.
But we deserve more, Sam. We should know what happened to some of those people. We should know that the Bob Fosse-Gwen Verdun partnership continues as a dance academy celebrating their mutual contribution to choreography. We should know something about his beloved daughter Nicole. We should understand that he did have a lasting impact on film making.
But Sam, you got greedy for Bob's love, just like all the others he loved, seduced, tried to make better, tried to control with his talent, his cock and his personal devils. You want him, the long gone subject of this book, to love you as well. And you left us in the dirt.
Dear reader, full in the missing pieces of Fosse's life that the book did not, could not deliver. Watch Fosse interviews on You Tube. This weekend I'm going to re-watch the Fosse movies I've seen and screen those I haven't. I wish Fosse had seen fit to record his plays. Now that I've read the book, I'm looking forward to seeing what I missed in Fosse's films the first time around. I need some unadulterated Fosse to get away, to get some distance, from Wasson's literary recreation of Fosse.
As I was finishing Sam Wasson's biography of Bob Fosse, Molly Ringwald published this article in The New Yorker, and it served as a nice companion piece to how I was feeling about the experience of learning about Bob Fosse's life. In her article, Ringwald looks back at the John Hughes movies that made her famous and reconsiders them both as an adult woman and in light of the #MeToo movement. The movies don't come away unscathed--and, really, they don't deserve to.
Bob Fosse is one of Broadway's greatest icons. His signature style is instantly recognizable and there is no denying the impact he had on theater to this very day. As he transitioned from dancer and performer to choreographer and to director, he left behind indelible works like Damn Yankees, Sweet Charity, the film version of Cabaret, Liza with a Z, Pippin, and Chicago. He was known to be problematic even in his era: a temperamental perfectionist and womanizer who smoked too much and frequently drove his performers to the brink in order to get their best work from them. But with the benefit of hindsight, Fosse becomes even more problematic.
So many of the descriptors I just used are actually understatements to the man as portrayed in Sam Wasson's thoroughly researched biography. 'Temperamental' frequently blurs the line into just being an asshole. 'Perfectionist' is a nice term for a man incapable of being satisfied and who was prone to fits of anger and despair over work he never perceived to be good enough. 'Womanizer' is a coded way of referring to Fosse as a sexual predator--and he was a sexual predator. He repeatedly asked out young women who were auditioning for him and invited them to bed with him. He casually told them that all of his leading ladies sleep with him, and he had to know that the implication to these women was that they would not get the role unless they slept with him--after all, why else would he make it part of the audition process? He also repeatedly called dancers and actresses in his shows and propositioned them again and again. Many of these calls came in late at night. He coerced them into coming to his hotel room (also late at night), where he was waiting naked in his bed.
It's... disconcerting stuff, to say the absolute least. At times I was literally squirming in my chair I was so uncomfortable. And all this bad behavior is shrugged off like a character quirk by all of Fosse's contemporaries. It is nothing short of maddening that this was allowed to continue. And while you can appreciate Fosse's genius in his works, it becomes enormously difficult to separate them from the monster he is revealed to be.
Fosse was a complicated man whose insecurities became part of his narcissism over time. His constant need for approval and his constant belief that he was a fraud never left him, but over time they also became tools by which he got reassurance--for simply by confessing his fear that he was no good, his friends and colleagues fell over themselves with praise. Throughout his whole life, Fosse was plagued by fear of death and failure. Wasson reflects this by having each chapter count down the remaining years in Fosse's life.
The problem is that when the years are up, so is the book. When Fosse's time runs out and he dies of a heart attack, the book ends. There is no conclusion, no time for reflection on what Fosse's life meant or what his legacy has been. There is certainly no time to try to reconcile his bad behavior. I see what Wasson was doing by ending the book with Fosse's death--and to be fair, it does make quite an impact. But this reader needed that conclusion. This reader needed help sorting through how I feel about Bob Fosse now that I know more about him. This reader needed to know what happened to Gwen Verdon, the love of Fosse's life and his frequent leading lady. The more I think about the way Wasson ended this book, the more frustrated I get. There's just no getting around that.
While I found the insight into Fosse's mind and creative process fascinating, I cannot deal with what I learned about him as a person. For a long time, I've considered Cabaret to be one of my favorite movies, and now I'm not sure I can watch it without feeling that it has been tainted. And Wasson's refusal to provide closure feels like a colossal stylistic misstep.
"How much time do I have?" asks Bob Fosse at the start of Sam Wasson's biography of the director and choreographer. Sixty years, as it turns out, as Wasson's chapter headings turn into a relentless countdown of the years--and later, minutes--left before his last, fatal heart attack. It's an effective device, for who among us is not a ticking timebomb with an uncertain expiration date?
Wasson's narrative--expertly researched, exhaustively documented--is as gritty and sometimes as knowingly vulgar as his subject. Its thoroughness, however, is somewhat undermined by a lack of any kind of post-mortem evaluation of Fosse's legacy. Of all his contemporaries, it's Fosse whose name is a household word, and whose style is inseparable from his name. Wasson, however, is so hellbent on ending his work with Fosse keeling over dead in the streets that his countdown gimmick undermines his subject's deeper significance. Fosse's influence didn't end the moment his heart stopped; for as long as he is emulated, imitated, and honored on stage, is as much time as he and his legacy have.
I have never been so happy to come to the end of a book as I was when Fosse ended. It is a well researched and written book but I so disliked Bob Fosse after the first 5 pages that it wouldn't matter how brilliantly the book was written. I have been watching clips of his dances between reading the book and have enjoyed those immensely but as a person I couldn't stand him and really have a hard time understanding why women would fall in love with him, marry or live with him and just accept his cheating on them all the time. I don't care what he suffered growing up - that gives him no excuse for his disgusting behavior.
The only reason I read this was because of the Yearly Reading Challenge, Rad Reads, through my Facebook group Pop Culture bookclub. Definitely would not have picked this up otherwise.
I didn't know who Bob Fosse was before this book, and while I have a great idea now, I wasn't really impressed with his character. Fosse was certainly an ingenious choreographer and director, but as a human? He was kind of a dumpster fire. I'm also really surprised he even made it to 60 with all his health issues and the crazy amount of cigarettes he went through.
Overall, this was an okay story. Wasson did a very good job being thorough, but at the same time I'm like who cares?? Cause I certainly did not. I think I would've rather seen this as a documentary. There's only so much a book can do for a reader to visualize dance and it's something I'd rather actually consume with my eyes on a screen.
There are only two Lords of the Dance, IMHO. Balanchine and Fosse. I haven't read a biography of Balanchine but he had a talent for showing us who he was in newspapers and magazines. Frankly, I don't want to know more about him lest it further ruin my appreciation for his genius. "Fosse" has created almost the same problem. This exhaustive biography lets us see the damaged, insecure, womanizing, pill popping, manic innovator who created and gave his name to a particular style of dance. He was tough, demanding but, unlike Balanchine, people adored him. He could talk almost anyone into anything. As a biography, this was a page-turner--assuming you care about the subject. If it has a failing it's that I never understood why people would forgive Fosse anything. Perhaps it's a Broadway mentality I don't understand. Wasson was incredible as he described various scenes where Fosse danced or trained his corps. I could actually see it--even if I had never seen that piece before. If you're deciding whether or not to tackle this tome, go to YouTube and call up Fosse doing his routine for "Snake in the Grass". You might want to kill the audio. That one clip will show you where Michael Jackson got his most famous moves. It's not that Jackson hid it; it's that he was rarely asked. I loved the book even when my hero had dancing shoes of clay.
Serving as the basis for the 2019 FX limited series Fosse/Verdon, here is the story of two larger than life performers who spent over thirty decades as collaborators, partners, sounding boards and husband and wife.
I love Cabaret and All That Jazz, and I really liked Fosse/Verdon. While it's obvious that the author loves his subject, and definitely did his homework, holy Moses was this a slow read for me. If you want an exhaustively detailed look at what it takes to put on a Broadway show, it's great for that, but a text description of a totally visual medium gets bogged down in minutiae very quickly. It also lapses into repetition: Fosse is told he can't do something in a show because it's too expensive or too risky, Fosse does it anyway, the show is a smash, Fosse refuses to accept and appreciate his success. It's also a hard sell to accept Fosse, even into his 30s, 40s and beyond, as just a poor broken little boy who expresses his fears and insecurity with chronic infidelity, manipulates virtually every woman in his life into mothering him (and tolerating never being the only woman in his life), and only capable of bonding in a meaningful way with his male friends.
It's not Fosse's behavior that's an issue (neither All That Jazz or Fosse/Verdon went out of their way to portray him as a super decent guy when it came to women), it's that the reader is beaten over the head with it dozens of times, in a way that suggests that you're supposed to pity and understand him. The "guy who gets away with abhorrent behavior because he's such an artistic genius" trope has gotten very, very tiresome, no matter who the genius in question is.
Having watched All That Jazz on HBO in my tween years, I have been a Bob Fosse fan for over half my life. I've wanted to read this book since it came out, it's been in my pile for two years, and since the F/X miniseries aired this spring, I figured it was time to dig it out of my pile and get cracking.
What a wonderful time in which we live, when we can go to YouTube and watch a clip from a movie, or a TV ad, or Liza With A Z with just a few clicks. Supplementing this book with that material just made it that much better.
Author Sam Wasson is a thorough chronicler (589 pages of text, and copious end-notes), but he has that tendency to slip into hipster-speak, taking the reader out of the narrative and inserting himself instead. It wasn't Nick Tosches in Dino bad, but I still prefer a little less folderol.
An Example: "In a business of lucky breaks, where the revolving door of chance turns for jerk and genius alike, patience, not talent, would get Fosse and Niles where they wanted to be. Dancing was the easy part. Sitting by the phone took work. It took cigarettes and cheap wine and skipping meals." Alright, Raymond Chandler; settle down there and just tell the story.
So let's just say I loved it more for the subject matter than the telling. I was never once bored, and Wasson managed to score a slew of great anecdotes. A good book about a complicated man.
When you hear the name “Bob Fosse,” you probably think of musicals and films such as CHICAGO, CABARET, and PIPPIN. Sam Wasson’s massive (yet compulsively readable) biography of the legendary choreographer shows us a man of many contradictions: Complex, yet simple…tortured, yet arrogant...predatory, yet vulnerable.
Beginning at his funeral (a splendid affair since Fosse left $25,000 to his friends to “have lunch on him”), the book flashes back to Fosse’s childhood on the outskirts of Chicago. Wasson continues through Fosse’s teenage years—when he divided his time between dancing in seedy burlesque clubs and being an All-American high school student—and moves on to his young adulthood, when Fosse choreographed and danced in multiple Hollywood films. Wasson also delves into Fosse’s multiple relationships with women, including his long-lasting bond with Gwen Verdon. We also learn about how his inability to have “enough” (whether it be work, girls, or pills) led him to the brink of death on more than one occasion.
Wasson’s biography reads like a novel, although there is an appropriate analysis of Fosse’s shows and dance vocabulary. The book also features interviews with performers, writers, and artists who knew Bob Fosse. Through them, a fascinating picture of the man emerges—a man who wanted everything but didn’t know when enough was enough. Wasson also makes a fascinating correlation to how American culture changed in ways that matched Fosse’s personality—bright and sunny with a seedy underbelly in his youth, to a collective wave of cynicism and paranoia in his later years with the Watergate scandal and the Vietnam War. After reading FOSSE, you will thoroughly understand his unique aesthetic and contribution to the art of musical theatre and film.
A great read for those who love show-biz history, FOSSE is highly recommended.
A verrrry long biography which reads as efficiently and just about as sharp as Fosse's choreography. Thankfully, it doesn't get bogged down in a lot of unnecessary detail, like some bios. We don't, for example, learn where Fosse's great-great grandparents come from - we learn just about as much about his family as is probably necessary, considering he was something of a black sheep. What we don't ultimately learn (although some conclusions are drawn) is what made Fosse so intrepid with his dick. We find out he was traumatized by performing around strippers when he was just hitting his teens - and that most likely colored his subsequent relationships with all women. ~which makes us beg the question, 'What about personal responsibility when you become an adult and realize how people around you treat each other?' It's a subject of debate whether his lifelong inferiority complex was all that genuine, or if he kept it in place to block a more genuine confidence in his ability? At any rate...his psychological issues aside, we get a very clear picture of (most importantly in terms of the man) his style developed and how he challenged himself in setting goals from project to project. His work seems to have been deeply connected to his fascination with people; he longed to know what made them tick, what made them real. ~which always leads him back to 'Why can't I be more real than I am?' It's all certainly mind-boggling stuff when, as a reader, you find yourself wondering why he persists in throwing so many emotional blocks in his way. If it's a compelling read, it's also a sad one. You keep wanting Fosse - who in many ways did seem to actually enjoy life and his work - to enjoy life at least half as much as he enjoyed making art. ...Sigh.
Awesome bio. Well documented and comprehensive, this extensive analysis of Bob Fosse makes a compelling case that Fosse's love/hate relationship with sex and show business stemmed from his too young immersion in vaudeville and burlesque environments. Those adolescent trauma's help to provide insight into why Fosse was obsessed with sex in his choreography but felt inferior as an artist because of it and how they in turn drove his obsessions and pushed him into such bold theatre and film. Hearing his gut-punched reactions to Michael Bennett's "A Chorus Line" and "Dreamgirls" was both obvious and revelatory.
The details which which Wasson has surrounded each show illuminates them in ways that makes thirty year old theatre fresh. I've been a Fosse fan since seeing Pippin at the Morris Mechanic theatre in the seventies and now "everything old is new again" (to quote a lyric from the soundtrack of "All That Jazz."
Also heartbreaking to read Ann Reinking and Bebe Neuwirth talk about Fosse's support of a dancer from the revival of "Sweet Charity" as he succumbed to AIDs and to realize that this was a acquaintance that hosted me and a friend on a memorable trip to Boston to see the National company of Dancin'. Video of Tanis Michaels
Well, this one was way too detailed for me! I felt like I knew what Fosse had for lunch and when he went to the bathroom. However, I loooooved the narrative writing! Sam Wasson has a great writing style. I also learned a lot about the evolution of musicals and dance. That part was fantastic! While I think Fosse had a major (positive) impact on dance back in the day and even on dance as it is today, I didn't like him as a person (simply based on this third-party account since I didn't have any personal experience with Fosse ;-))
It's a good thing Bob Fosse died in 1986, for had he lived till now he would have been eaten alive by the angrier members of the # Me Too movement. Fosse rose from the dreg ends of Vaudeville in Chicago in the late 30s as a young dancer in a popular duo, to the heights of Broadway and Hollywood in the 60s and 70s by working his butt off, first as a dancer and then as a composer and choreographer. He virtually reinvented the American musical, which he imbued with all of the darker sides of Americana: prostitution, gangsters, gamblers and killers of all kinds. When he was barely 12 he had danced almost every night in many of the seedier clubs and bars Chicago had to offer in order to help his financially strapped parents. In several of these places he was sexually assaulted by older strippers and the shame and degradation he experienced damaged his psyche; he blamed his parents for turning a blind eye to where he was working and to what was really going on in his life.. By high school he was living a double life, excelling in school and hanging out with many deplorable types at work. Because of this, he never met a woman he didn't want to leave and though he achieved the triple crown of winning an Oscar, an Emmy and a Tony in one year, he never seemed to enjoy any of his success or achievement. He was tormented with constant thoughts of not being good enough and lived a life of excess, drinking, smoking heavily and screwing every woman he met. He employed some of his more persistent moves on young female dancers, charming and emotionally blackmailing them into sleeping with him and treating them badly if they didn't. Any woman foolish enough to fall in love with him got the same treatment of hearts and flowers follwed by betrayal. He left his second wife Joan McCracken sick in the hospital while he pursued Gwen Verdon who he married and mistreated for many years. Verdon was his muse and at one point, the most famous musical star on Broadway; she was also Fosse's most important collaborator, and ignored his many many liasions and affairs until she couldn't. Fosse could be charming as well as persistent and formed strong friendships with both Neil Simon and Paddy Chayevsky, though he drove many around him crazy by his perfectionism and workaholic nature. I would have written about him from a more positive viewpoint but I found some of his behaviour repugnant. Literally this guy was up there/ down there with the likes of Jeffrey Epstein and Weinstein with regard to his behaviour, except that he usually picked women over 17 and he showed some care for a few of his conquests. Physically he was more attractive than Weinstein too, so I guess that counted for something; few women dared to turn hime down and yes, he hated some of his more flagrant behaviours but that didnt seem to stop him from doing what he did. On the positive side he gave the world Cabaret and All that Jazz as well as Chicago. At the end, he literally collapsed on the street on his way to a relaunch of Chicago and died at 60, an age he always said would be his last time on earth. # too too much
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
First off the writing’s good “. Cole was stunning, even standing still; he gleamed like a piece of golden technology, and when he moved, he cut the air like a rain of knives. Erotic and exotic”
That’s talent.
Fosse himself is gigantic. Guy is a good dancer who creates a whole new style in work like Sweet Charity, Chicago, and All that Jazz and segues into narrative fare like Lenny and the dark and impactful Star80.
Almost all these types of men end up failing personally. In some respects, Fosse is no different. He was a philanderer of the highest order, and he loved to play the dark, talentless lad who was constantly proclaiming his inadequacies. An action Neil Simon rightly nailed as an artist whining to get validation.
However, even here, Fosse trod a better line. He was open about his infidelities and when asked why his daughter had turned out so well he gave full credit to his talented wife, Gwen Verdon.
It’s interesting in seeing the great work Fosse did that it would all probably be lost in this generation. His seduction of scores of the dancers and actresses who worked for him would surely have sunk him in this MeToo era.
Physically, Fosse demonstrated how resilient a human body can be. Gaining strength from his dancing regimen, the man lived on cigarettes and amphetamines. The last ten years of his life was an ineluctable slide towards death that never seemed to slow him.
To borrow a phrase Bob Fosse was a true crossfire hurricane.
Finally, a lot of ink is devoted to why Fosse was such an epic womanizer. His childhood, his time as a teen performing amongst strippers, hatred of intimacy or women?
I believe the answer is far simpler: he had a gargantuan libido and he could.
Well one nice thing about COVID-19 is the fact that i had taken this out of the library at the start when the libraries closed down so it gave me months to listen to the CD in fits and starts in my car. Am i conflicted about this book and its story? In one word, YES. On one had, it is a well written and thoroughly researched biography of a multi-talented icon of modern theatre and dance, on the other the hand it is the story of a flawed man with demons he could never shake and the people in his life that aided and abetted his behaviors. I loved his work, having seen all but the original Pajama Game and was blown away by the creativity, the attention to detail and the style he exhibited. The research done by the author into each play or movie or production in which he was associated is meticulous and you get the sense of loyalty each of them had for Bob Fosse, no matter his flaws. Those included drugs, and drinking and unchecked anger. But for me, much of his behind the scenes work with his women dancers left me cringing, and shaking my head, both for his behavior and for the women who complied and came away still a little bit in love with him. They all thought he was a wounded bird rather than a sexual predator. I have trouble getting past that.
No matter, the book is so well written and transports you to the 60's and 70's with a deep dive that immerses you in the theater and movie world with gusto. There is magic in theatre that transports you but always remember to look behind the footlights as the people there are areal, are flawed and can still transport to to another world.
If I were only rating on the quality of Wasson’s writing, I would give this book five stars. Since Fifth Avenue, 5AM I’ve been a fan of the way he is able to weave so many sources into an engaging narrative that feels like being there. Having done film research myself, I know how time consuming and fiddly it can be, and reading the huge list of names he did interviews with, his thanks to the various archives and libraries, I can’t imagine the amount of information he had to sift through in order to craft a single cohesive story of the life of Bob Fosse. Also considering so much of Fosse’s work is visual, I was incredibly impressed at how deftly Wasson was able to describe his choreography and style, conjuring images of dance that is not easy by any means.
But I was also deeply frustrated at times at the character of Fosse himself. This isn’t the fault of Wasson but it was tough at times to get through story after story of Fosse sexually pursuing the young women he had authority and power over, insisting that it was simply his creative process and that he never claimed to be a “fair” man. Many of Fosse’s methods as a director might be considered abusive today, and I struggled with the feeling that I would have probably disliked Fosse, had I worked with him or known him, and yet, I also found myself identifying with his artistic addiction, his inability to stop trying to create and push himself further, even as he felt like a fraud, a small-time vaudevillian amongst giants.
Fosse was a complicated man and this book gave me a lot of conflicting feelings, but it is expertly crafted and kept me along for the ride all the way through.
Sam Wasson's intelligent, insightful biography is as captivating as the miniseries it inspired.
A probing look inside the mind and life of a tortured creative genius, "Fosse" manages to look up and down at the trend-setting choreographer, film director and promotional mastermind.
Eloquent prose digs into the interactions and intricacies that made the man. Fosse was a walking trainwreck who womanized, abused drugs and drink and -- most of all -- himself as he incessently strove to max out his creative capabilities and manifest his visions into being.
As wretched as a person as Fosse was at times, he also harbored a kind heart that drew friends and admirers into his orbit.
Ever plagued with self doubt and loathing, it seemed Fosse never had the capability of enjoying his dizzying success. Perhaps it was that inability to appreciate that kept him ever reach, ever stumbling, ever falling and ever rising.
a huge undertaking, and a compelling portrait of a deeply complex man—manipulative as he was kind, insecure as he was brilliant. sam wasson does an admirable job attempting to excavate the “real” bob fosse. but to me, this is simply another fragmented depiction of the man—like all that jazz, like pippin, like everything he put a little (or all) of himself into. i loved the glimpses into the minds of those who orbited fosse, which is why i felt a bit betrayed when the book ended with his death. his death from the perspective of an anonymous bystander, at that. why not let us exist with his legacy, those he left behind? his actual death, not the spectacle he’d constructed?
although perhaps that’s the point, now that i think about it (5 minutes later). we read and watch the flashy, exuberant, overwhelming interpretations of his own death that fosse has choreographed, filmed, performed—but in reality, he simply ceased to go on. no shaking hands with everyone he’d admired, no rehearsed finale. the book—his life—simply ends, without fanfare.
Surprised and not surprised by how much I enjoyed this. I've wondered for years if this would be too dense of a read, but it's really not. It doesn't hurt that I watched the miniseries and have a decent familiarity with Fosse's work (though I am now eager to expand it). Wasson paints a multidimensional portrait of Fosse. He doesn't stand back from the bad, though I think if the book had been written more recently the sexual pressure he put on his leading ladies and dancers would be looked at with a bit more bite (and rightly so). I definitely think I have a better understanding of Fosse as a result of reading this, and it held my attention the entire way as well.
People are fascinating to me. After seeing “Fosse/Verdon”, Bob Fosse and his relationship to Gwen Verdon in particular fascinated me. This 600 page epic details Bob Fosse’s entire life with intricate and nuanced description. The musical theater geek within me loved watching my favorite musicals come to life for the first time and seeing Broadway greats written so vividly. The rest of me was fascinated by Bob Fosse’s psychological trauma and damage that wholly encapsulated his life until he died. If you have any interest in this legend, I highly recommend this biography.
Liza Minnelli, Dustin Hoffman, Chita Rivera, Ann Reinking, Stephen Schwartz, Jerome Robbins, Hal Prince, Kander and Ebb, Sondheim, Michael Bennett and others weave in and out of the story of Fosse's life.
Through his eyes you see the creative process producing a show from, from the very first idea through closing night. The book journeys through shows like Cabaret, Pippin, Sweet Charity, Chicago, All That Jazz, and more.
Tons of Kindle highlights/shares from me with this book. Amazing.
I like the early Fosse stuff - My Sister Eileen, The Pajama Game, Kiss Me Kate, the fabulous dance numbers in Chicago. But as he got older, his stuff got raunchier and just gross. He was a disturbed individual who cheated on every single person around. He was obsessed with sex, cigarettes, death and himself. This was a very sad book to read. I think his early life as a boy in burlesque houses really hurt him mentally. Shame on his parents for not taking care of him. Gwen Verdon deserves a medal for putting up with him as long as she did.
After finishing the miniseries, Fosse/Verdon, I decided I wanted to do a deeper dive on Fosse. This was just that. I skimmed bits here and there, but otherwise appreciated the author’s enthusiasm for the subject. Of note: unlike the miniseries, this book didn’t cover Verdon much at all. Someone needs to write that biography!
600+ pages on Bob Fosse seemed excessive when I started, but I couldn’t put this one down. My interested in him was stirred when I watched the F/X mini-series Fosse/Verdon. The book delves even deeper into the artistic genius who was plagued with personal demons. This is a great read for lovers of Broadway musicals & celebrity tell-all’s!
This is an interesting read of Bob Fosse’s life. It includes some interviews with people who knew him. It kept me absorbed and I read it in one evening. I wouldn’t say it was in depth by it covers his life. A nice companion to Fosse/Verdon, the miniseries I recently watched.
I think that the author did an excellent job researching and writing this book. I also found Fosse to be an incredibly unsympathetic character. He was mean spirited, he held grudges, he was a misogynist and manipulated people. This book was written in 2013. Reading it today in 2020 after the explosion of the #MeToo movement, makes his behaviour towards women even more shocking and disgusting. He took advantage of his position of power and used these women, who were mostly usually very young and at the start of their careers.