Ah. The showbiz autobiography. When done well, an insightful piece of work, an enjoyable and interesting peek into the mansions, the studios, and VIP sections . . . And the personalities of the people that populate them.
When done badly, thinly veiled, empty self-celebration, and/or an attempt at raising one's profile. Like perfumes and fashion lines, just something every celebrity does because . . . Well, it's just what's done, dahling. A nice bit of passive income too, sweetie.
Anyone with just a whiff of fame's toxic scent can get an autobiography on bookshop shelves. From the awfully vacuous to the splendidly soulful . . .
I am referring to the biographies, of course, not the celebrities. I swear.
But, after all, Rupert Everett's Red Carpets and Other Banana Skins is a showbiz autobiography done well. Very well.
This account of his life and career begins with a scene at an Essex farmhouse, slap-bang right in the middle of the 1960s, surrounded by burning fields; a scene of high domestic drama. And, from there, to cinema screens and beyond. From the seedy to the showbiz. The reader follows the progress of Mr. Everett's life from sixties England, through Parisian nightclubs, to early 2000s America.
The writing is witty, and ranks with the very best, having been compared to Evelyn Waugh and the Byronic. It does what all good writing ought to – it scrapes away the bullshit to get at the truth. Oh, and it entertains.
This book, though filled with dramatic scenes, populated with extraordinary people, and recounting fantastic events, is human and soulful. Alongside the champagne scenes, there are accounts of vulnerability. Death and sadness happens even amongst the stars.
But, fear not, there is no performative victimhood or self-pity here, only a disarming honesty.
Rupert Everett's career as an actor, for me, has always existed on the periphery of the cultural landscape. I have been aware of his work, but I have felt no strong feelings about it one way or the other.
I am no avid follower of celebrity lives either, so many of the people in this book I was only vaguely familiar with. Some I recognised not at all.
I tell you this because I want to assure you that this book is not just showbiz and celebrity. Indeed, the showbiz and the celebrity is incidental. It is the humanity and soul on every page that makes this telling worth the read, it is this that kept me reading.
I might not have been paying much attention to Everett's work as an actor. But as for his work as a writer, I am ready for more.
You can purchase a copy of Red Carpets and Other Banana Skins by Rupert Everett here.
Before you go, I want to thank you for reading, and ask you to consider supporting this blog, buying the author a coffee here.
To avoid filling this space with adverts and links, I turn to the kindness of the readers. And, in return, I strive to bring you the best bookish content I know how to produce.
Thank you again.
No comments:
Post a Comment