Have such fondness for Mazursky's imperfect films that I could not resist picking this up in a local (and now-defunct) used book haunt. Lingered on my shelves for quite a while. At first I thought it was unreadable: breakneck pace and no discernible pattern to the chronology. Eventually I got comfortable with this memoir on its own terms. The language is kind of sloppy, as are some of his observations, which seems strange given that Mazursky was a writer as well as a director, someone engaged with ideas. But certain sections are more smooth than others. There's insight into the way deals are made, the persistence it takes to get a movie made, and the way a certain kind of filmmaker is drawn to a particular kind of actor. Mazursky never dwells in self pity or underhanded remarks about anyone, even when sharing stories of tantrums or backstabbing. On the other hand, there's a frustrating lack of depth. So many actors I really admire-- Donald Sutherland, George Segal, Anjelica Huston, Nick Nolte-- are in Mazursky's films, and yet he doesn't really give much insight into who they are or what drives their art. He writes about the difficulty of working with the brilliant Peter Sellars by merely recounting Sellars' eccentricities and tantrums, there's no meaningful reflection on Sellars as a human or an artist. And while Mazursky seems deeply attached to his (lifelong) wife and family, he makes the knee-jerk leering comments about women (famous or not) that typify the industry's lowest common denominator. He may not have acted on those feelings, but it's still disappointing. There's an unsettling moment where he says Warren Beatty met his young daughters at his home, and he wondered how Warren "who trembles" around teenagers, would handle the meeting. I was puzzled by this -- don't think he means Beatty is a pedpohile, and Mazursky seems to genuinely love and respect his daughters-- but it's just so sloppy and unclear. On the other hand, he writes movingly (and comedically) about his family. Also loved his connection to Yiddish and the Old World. Another trait I loved was how Mazursky would describe chance encounters with non-celebrities throughout the book, dwelling on their eccentricities in a nonjudgmental way. Although there was not much depth in these descriptions either it was appealing, and I think it's that generous openness to human nature that was one of the best things about his work. He gave encounters with "ordinary people" the same weight he gave the celebrity stories, which says a lot about who he was. There are some charming letters from Fellini included verbatim, too. Mazursky's best movies have a yearning, meandering quality to them that's like life and real people. As with the chance encounters mentioned above, Mazursky included references of his family (in the text and in the photo section) with the same weight he used for celeb mentions. He also has no problem making light of himself and his mishaps.
Bonus: Mazursky mentions in passing that the shrink who's so deadpan-hilarious as the dog psychiatrist in Down and Out in Beverly Hills ("Oh Matisse. What a pretty dog you are") was his actual shrink."Oh Matisse. What a pretty dog you are" was a catchphrase in my family for many years after we watched this movie.