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61 of 63 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
Editors?? Fact-checkers?? Grammar Police?? Where are you when we need you??, November 6, 2006
I just finished this book and I must say I am glad I didn't invest in the author's previous effort on Cary Grant...
Let's start off with the pros: The chapters on Stewart's service in World War II were quite good, and gave me a great deal of information I was unaware of. The bibliography is quite extensive and gave me some ideas for follow-up reading, particularly film scholar/critic Andrew Sarris' work. (Eliot studied under Sarris and quotes him extensively.) One of the best threads that runs through the book concerns the lifellong friendship between Stewart and Henry Fonda, who were united by fundamental similarities in their characters and backgrounds, but divided, sometimes heatedly, by their politics and world views. The obligatory while-making-the-film anecdotes are often entertaining. And finally, the section on Stewart's later life, the death of his son in Viet Nam and his retirement from film is quite touching. As far as film analysis goes, Eliot also does a fair job with the astonishing "Vertigo", adds depth to my reading of "The Man Who Knew Too Much", and takes a moment to appreciate a personal favorite, "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance."
Now for the cons: Marc Eliot has apparently never met a convoluted sentence he did not use as-is. Reading this book is an exercise in grammatical torture that absolutely cannot be blamed on printer's errors. It is beyond shameful that his publisher let this book come out in its current state and his editor should be fired forthwith. Every couple of pages the reader stumbles on a sentence in which the subject, verb and object seem to have been thrown in a blender with several commas and poured out like confetti.
Other reviewers have already mentioned factual errors, of which there are more than a few. There is also a general feeling of sloppiness, as when "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" is called "Glory Hallelujah". (!!) Then there is the lack of a consistent approach to the book, a theme to hang the story on. Eliot simply cannot decide what kind of a biography he wants to write. He frequently throws Stewart on the couch and gives him a thorough Freudian pummeling. At other times he invokes film critics like Sarris to analyze Stewart's craft and the film landmarks he helped bring to life. And then there are all the gossipy bits about Stewart and other stars. All of these elements are to be expected in any artist's biography, but a good biographer picks one to give narrative structure, and lets the others add depth to the story. Instead Eliot just veers wildly from one to the other, giving equal wieght to all.
And speaking of story, at times it seems that Eliot also can't decide whose wonderful life he's writing about. Digressions abound, and are all given the same weight as the central story. Frank Capra, Alfred Hitchcock, Anthony Mann, the Hollywood blacklist, Henry Fonda and other subjects are all important to Stewart's life. Unfortunately they all are given equal billing. Eliot devotes several pages to Frank Capra's life before Hollywood, to various aspects of the blacklist and to other topics, but often fails to show how this information relates to Stewart. If a guy can't get top billing in his own biography.....
Oddly, the one person whose background story might have added to the narrative appears almost exclusively only in relation to Stewart. Eliot makes a lot of Stewart's friendship with Henry Fonda, but never provides Fonda with much depth, and thus deprives both himself and the reader of yet another theme that could have enhanced our understanding of both of these complex, inner-directed, quintessentially American men.
In the end this biography fails becuase the reader is left not knowing much more about what Stewart thought or felt about his life or work than before reading the book. In spite of the frequent appearance of the word "Oedipal" throughout, this is more of a map of a man's life than an actual visit to it.
I had high hopes for this book, as I am a huge fan of Stewart, whose most notable work has a breadth of characterization (Mr. Smith Goes to Washington to Vertigo to Harvey to Anthony Mann's psycho cowboys) and
a nartualism that no one else has ever managed. I hope someone will do him justice someday.
Until then, please rent the above-mentioned movies (and "The Philadelphia Story" , "Rear Window", "You Can't Take It With You" and, of course, "It's A Wonderful Life") and let the man speak for himself.
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45 of 47 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
It's A Not So Wonderful Bio, October 27, 2006
When a biographer can't even get basic, easily-checked facts straight (Auntie Mame did *not* win the 1958 Oscar as Best Picture; How The West Was Won was originally released in the Cinerama process, not Cinemascope; etc., etc.), how much faith can the reader put into the unsubstantiated assertions that Cary Grant *may* have had a crush on Jimmy Stewart and so on? If the author is to be believed, Clark Gable is largely unknown to modern audiences because he never made a "classic" film like Stewart's It's A Wonderful Life. (Guess he never saw Gone With The Wind.) Some interesting, (apparently) previously-unreported stuff here--but who can tell how much of it is true?
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33 of 36 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
Intentional injustice?, February 3, 2007
Eliot has filled this biography of Jimmy Stewart with enough unsubstantiated information, innuendo, and factual errors to sink a small ship, never mind the grammatical errors. Furthermore, the tone of the book is snide, schizophrenic and frankly unlikable - it seems as if the author almost has a vendetta against Stewart. The near-constant Freudian analyzations range from annoying to obnoxious, as does Eliot's penchant for finding deep sexual overtones and conflict in all of Jimmy's movies and many of his day-to-day activities.
A previous poster suggested the author didn't watch a few (if any) of Jimmy's movies in preparation for this 'biography', and I have to agree. Additionally, while much time is spent talking out Henry Fonda, the information doesn't go very far beneath the surface of the man or his friendship with Jimmy; this lack of real depth is epidemic throughout this book, unless one considers unsupported gossip, suppositions, and questionable psychological analysis 'depth'. The best part of the book really is that which discusses his war experience.
Overall, this book is unbelivable on several levels, the topmost being that Mr. Eliot, separating himself from most Americans, doesn't actually like Jimmy Stewart as a person and does his best to smear Stewart's personality and character - as well as that of anyone else who happens to get in his way. How this book, rife with error, got past an editor is also beyond my understanding. Someone interested in Jimmy is far better off watching his finest movies than reading this book.
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