I’ve always loved Demi Moore (and for that matter, Ally Sheedy: where is your memoir, please?) largely on the basis of WAY too many unsupervised watches of St. Elmo’s Fire when I was waaaay too young of a working-class Midwestern child to even remotely understand it.
Seriously, this film was literally ALWAYS on cable, and for some reason (I think it was partly its theme song, which I still stan today), I couldn’t ever NOT watch it, even though I had the most tenuous grasp of its plot points.
First of all, since I could not have been more than 12 myself, I thought everyone in the film was easily about fifty years old. (I know, I know, foolish youth...karma’s a bitch, though, because here I sit in 2020, exponentially, realistically older, while half the original cast somehow looks the same age as, or even younger than, they did then.)
In any case, thinking that the film’s main characters were on the verge of eligibility for social security collection, I completely missed that they were supposed to be newly-adulting recent graduates. The fact that half of the characters wore pearls and trench coats and decorative neck scarves and other yuppie clothing, the likes of which I had never seen in my rusty neck of the country, probably served as a font of my confusion. That being said, I was also confused as to why these 50 year-olds still behaved so strangely and immaturely, what with all the rampant infighting, yelling of odd nonsensical chants, and, in the case of Demi’s character Jules (always beware a character named Jules), wearing weird Madonna hair bows with her fancy dress, crying about her “stepmonster” in her charismatically gravelly voice (why was a 50 year old so incredibly upset about her stepmother, still, I wondered?), and causing mass alarm among her entire friend group by...leaving all her apartment windows open so that Rob Lowe had to shimmy up a drainpipe or something and bust in all cat burglar-like to keep her from ...freezing to death??
(I know we’ve had some global warming since, but it seems like it’s pretty much always at least 70 degrees and super humid in the DC area (where the film is set and where I now live**), and I’ve definitely left the windows open pretty much year-round in any apartment I’ve ever occupied around here, with absolutely no self-directed malicious intent, so this movie scene remains mystifying to me today. I’m sure that the actual risk being alluded to was something like overdose, and that there were ample veiled 80s cocaine and pill references going on in the film that I missed, being barely over 10 and fully immersed in the Just Say No campaign.)
Regardless of the confusion, one thing remained clear: Jules/Demi was clearly captivating as shit and thus fully deserved to provoke whatever mayhem, including but not limited to a break-in Rob Lowe rescue.
All of this is to say: I loved Demi then and love her even more now after reading this memoir. Whether or not you had a misguided childhood obsession with one of her films, I strongly recommend it. It’s solid, interesting, moving, and a true-life rags to riches Hollywood story that is also very relevant at a time when we have hopefully become more aware of the risks and stressors of being a woman in Hollywood, particularly a pioneering one like Demi. There is surprisingly engaging content around all kinds of issues including physical and mental health challenges, substance abuse, eating and exercise disorders, parenthood, and relationships with parents. All the industry and movie-making/star-related gossip is not salaciously presented; it’s subdued and respectful but still intriguing. (Guys, she got discovered for the role of Jules as she was spotted rushing down a flight of stairs in a building!) 😍
Best of all, if you dislike Ashton Kutcher as much as I do, this book won’t do anything to disrupt that, but without going all overboard about it or giving him the reward of excessive negative attention. As this book makes abundantly clear, he is literally the least interesting aspect of her life.
I listened to the audiobook, which I HIGHLY recommend, as Demi does a stellar job reading it in her amazing voice. The book is particularly well written for a celebrity memoir, as Demi worked with the talented Ariel Schrag, a star in her own right. In all, a favorite of the many celebrity memoirs I’ve read lately.
Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to throw open wide all my windows and doors and await Rob Lowe’s arrival; it’s a bone-chilling 51 degrees, so I think chances are good.
Read it!! Go get your hands on it like it’s a piece of wet clay and Patrick Swayze is nestled close in behind you!
**(Fun Fact: I also think it’s hilarious, and perhaps predestined, that I have ended up living/working for over a decade fairly close to Georgetown University, which I only MUCH later understood that the characters of St. Elmo’s Fire were supposed to have attended. Yep, this lovely film of my youth - viewed countless times before I had ever been ANYWHERE outside my childhood neighborhood - is ostensibly set in what essentially became my actual adult world decades later: lol lol lol, because it seems to bear no resemblance at all to actual DC.)