American Rhapsody by Joe
Eszterhas
Irresistably Preposterous-- But Know What You Are In For
American Rhapsody is a gleeful act of outrage, simultaneously an
assault on the Clintons and a bridge-burning, tell-all Hollywood memoir in
the wicked spirit of Youll Never Eat Lunch in This Town Again. J oe
Eszterhass narrative is a torrent of consciousness with no consistent
sense of direction, but it all erupts from a plausible organizing principle
best articulated in the chapter Bubba in Pig Heaven: Hollywood is where
Clinton really belongs. The author claims Bill watches Blazing Saddles
six times a year, and says that Gennifer Flowers got him blazing by
enacting a Sharon Stone-like crotch-shot scene years before Basic
Instinct. When a sarcastic Clinton allegedly told a Hollywood producer that
his enemies would soon be accusing him of coupling with a cow, the
producer sent him Eszterhass 1989 screenplay Sacred Cow, in which a
president does just that. Eszterhas claims Spielberg dropped the film
because of his friendship with Cli nton. But he still thinks Clinton would be
great in the role. The Lewinsky saga really should be ho-hum by now,
but American Rhapsodys Evel Knievel-like leaps of free association and
mad brio breathe life into it. Youve never been properly introduced to
Linda Tripp and Lucianne Goldberg until youve read The Ratwoman and
the Bag Lady of Sleaze, its uproarious take on the pair. American
Rhapsody gives dozens of stars time in the sweaty spotlight: Matt the
Scavenger Drudge, heroic Larry Flynt (whose threat to report Republican
scandals Eszterhas credits with quashing impeachment)--almost every
big political scandal victim in memory. And there are lots of Hollywood
types behaving badly: Bob Dylan, Warren Beatty, Ronald Reagan,
Farrah Fawc ett, Sharon Stone, Robert Evans, Sly Stallone (who wanted
to portray Jesus onscreen), and even Joe Eszterhas. The fantasy
chapters, printed in boldface, are sometimes funny (e.g., Kenneth W.
Starr Confesses), but mostly theyre both over the top and below the belt
(e.g., Willard Comes Clean, the confessions of the presidents penis).
What holds your interest is the main narrative, a heady mix of showbiz
gossip, personal essay, and Lester Bangs-style prose mania. --Tim
Appelo
Eszterhas the book writer is more intriguing and ideosyncratic than
Eszterhas the screen writer. Be prepared for a 60's counter culture
apologia pro vita sua with interesting detours (such as a tribute to Barry
Goldwater).
The book is ultimately a tour of America the Horny across the life span of
baby boomers. "Life span" is the proper term, since there is raunch
enough for a lifetime. The organizing principle is that Bill Clinton is the
avatar for the sexual acting out of the rock and roll lifestyle. Clinton is not
particularly revered here, although Hilary is portrayed as so cold (and
maybe gay) that Bill had little choice.
There is a lot of malicious gossip here, but some is true. The challenge is
distinguishing between gossip that is malicious and that which is false and
malicious.
For all the astoundingly diverse sexual activity described, there is a clinical
detachment. Eszterhas uses few words (save when quoting others) that
the New York Times would not print.
Eszterhas narrates lots of the book and is not an especially skilled reader--
although the ring of authenticity he gives keeps it from being annoying. Ed
Asner is a fine reader.
Be prepared for Eszterhas's substantial ego.
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