A very long time ago I watched a British TV series called 'Hollywood' which documented the early history of the American film history during the silent era. One of the episodes explored the notorious episode of the trials of Roscoe 'Fatty' Arbuckle, an iconic comedy star of the period who was accused of raping and killing Virginia Rappe. This was a rather fascinating story and one that has long brought attention from anyone interested in cinema history. The controversy had it all; sex, booze, a media frenzy, money, politics and tragedy; it's a story ripe with possibilities for retelling, and that is (in part) what Stahl has done with I, Fatty.
Taking the well-worn route of a fictional autobiography I, Datty is a rather enjoyable read that certainly eneavours to restore some of Arbuckle's reputation. It also is a pretty deep dive into the world of American vaudeville and the early film industry, and in the process Stahl ensures that he paints a very Rabelaisian picture of the period. Undoubtedly inspired by Kenneth Anger's legendary book and documentary film 'Hollywood Babylon', and the numerous legends of bootlegging, dope, sex and other scandals in pre-Hays Code America, I, Fatty makes damn sure that no reader will consider the period one of innocence and good morals.
The key to the novel's appeal to the reader, and important to its success, is how well one can engage with Stahl's characterisation of Arbuckle. Generally speaking his fictional Fatty has flaws and personality traits that arouse our interest and sympathy. The first half of the novel, where for the most of the narrative the reader follows Arbuckle during his truly awful childhood and his garishly picaresque experiences in vaudeville, is perhaps less successful than the second half. Truth be told the younger fictional Roscoe is a bit of a pain in the arse. It's not that he is a bad person, as written by Stahl. No, it's just that the central aspect of his personality, i.e. the severe psychological damage that the author has endowed him with as a result of Fatty's weight and his abuse from for his father, makes the protagonist of his 'autobiography' very self-indulgent. It might sound cruel, but for all the growing success Stahl's Arbuckle achieves in the first half of i, Fatty, it gets hard to continue to read him constantly refer to how bad things were for him. The fictional trauma becomes overwhelming for the narrator's life and whilst the reader won;t lose interest, it just becomes somewhat one note.
Where Stahl redeems himself in this aspect of the novel and in Arbuckle's persona is that for all the trials one cannot but admire Fatty's tenacity and his ability to document what went on around him. The author makes sure that whether you like or dislike Arbuckle early on, you still have to marvel at how his Fatty brings the period to life, makes the world of the 'autobiographer' vivid and interesting. This is due (indirectly) to Stahl's attention to the history of Arbuckle and his environment, and the language his protagonist uses when documenting his life. As one reads the book there is a growing sense of verite in Arbuckle's narrative, and whilst it is of course fictional, there is also an underpinning of psychological, emotional and cultural truth to the story. Stahl's Arbuckle lives and breathes in a 'real' world and in the process his 'reality' becomes valid to the reader.
The second half of the novel is dominated by the climax of Fatty's success in the Hollywood silent film era, followed by his downfall as a result of Virginia Rappe's death. As Stahl develops Arbuckle's narrative he endows his protagonist with a stoicism and a good humour that in some respects is not there earlier in the book. It's almost as if in the process of becoming hated by his audience the fictional Arbuckle finally begins to like himself, and this definitely has an impact on how the reader engages with the character. Additionally, the rich semi-fictional details woven into the fabric of the novel during this part of the text is both very interesting and bloody well told. There is so much going on in I, Fatty during the second half that one cannot easily disengage from Stahl's work. For example, the depiction of the infamous party where Arbuckle was supposed to have raped Rappe is a ribald one and it certainly clears Arbuckle of the crime itself. It doesn't however clear him or anyone else depicted in the revelant part of the book of their venal desires and behaviours. Even Fatty himself, who is shown to be a bit of an innocent, still has the stupidity of his behaviour hanging over his head.
It also is to the benefit of the book that Stahl gives his version of Arbuckle a more likeable persona in the second half of the book, and this is not just because his protagonist is depicted as being innocent of the crime the real Fatty was accused of. The most important character in the novel, aside from Arbuckle himself and his father is Fatty's first wife Minta Dufree. Earlier in the book Arbuckle courts his wife and then becomes, to be brutally honest, at least neglectful and at worst abusive to Minta. Stahl redeems Arbuckle as a character by giving him the understanding that he is lucky to have Minta, and that she is there for him. Pivotal to this development in the novel's narrative is the love making they share when under siege from those hounding Roscoe because of the Rappe arrest. It's very easy to dislike Stahl's vision of Roscoe whilst he mistreats Minta; during that time in the story when he is a good man for and with his wife the reader has their sympathies aroused further.
Putting aside the characterisation of Fatty Arbuckle, the other compelling aspect of this novel is Stahl's depiction of Hoilywood in the 1910s and 1920s. This is a vivid and fascinating fictional world that has all the bawdy honesty that one would hope for, especially if one is familiar with the history of the period and place. The reader gets to meet a slew of compelling characters, including Mack Sennett, Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and William Randolph Hearst among many others. At times it gets a bit hard to follow, and because Stahl has written his Arbuckle narrating his story as if his audience knows much about the who, the what, the where and the when, well you just have to hang in there. It wouldn't hurt prospective readers of this book to did up some history of the silent film era so as to prepare for what comes along in I, Fatty.
In conclusion, I enjoyed this novel, and even now wonder if my three stars should not in fact be four. This is not a book that will be seen as a classic, however it is an engaging retelling of a notorious incident that has long overshadowed one of the most important personalities to have ever been in cinema. I, Fatty is a rewarding fictional version of the life of Roscoe Arbuckle, and whilst it may not appeal to all who read it I believe it deserves more attention because of both its subject and how Stahl has recreated his world.