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.