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25 of 26 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Misleading title; outrageously good book, February 16, 2003
If you're looking for a standard reference work, look elsewhere (Katz is probably your best bet). That said, this is one of the finest books I've discovered in years. You can read it from cover to cover and never get bored, which is impossible to say about any other reference book that I know of.David Thomson is absolutely brilliant. I disagree with about half of what he writes here, but even when I disagree I respect his opinions and greatly admire the way in which he articulates them. Very often in these entries you will find that unexpected beauty and strangeness which is the hallmark of all great literature and all great art in general. Some of the passages are absolutely heartstopping. Here's Thomson on Jean Vigo: "L'Atalante is about a more profound attitude to love than Gaumont understood. It is love without spoken explanation, unaffected by sentimental songs; but love as a mysterious, passionate affinity between inarticulate human animals." Have you ever heard a more haunting, uncanny definition of love than this one? I certainly haven't. I read these words and then sat there like a fool in shock for five or six minutes, ruminating on their simple profundity. Thomson is also not afraid to be nasty, which is refreshing in this age of mindless, frothy hype being spewed in all directions on just about everyone. Here he is on Roberto Benigni: "Then came the thing called La Vite E Bella. As a matter of fact, I often echo that sentiment myself, but if there is anything likely to mar the bella-ness, it is not so much Hitlerism (I am against it), which is fairly obvious, as Benigni-ism, which walks away with high praise, box office, and Oscars. I despise Life Is Beautiful, especially its warmth, sincerity, and feeling, all of which I belive grow out of stupidity. Few events so surely signaled the decline of the motion picture as the glory piled on that odious and misguided fable." Sometimes that nastiness reaches the heights of pure poetry. Here is Thomson on Richard Gere: "There are times when Richard Gere has the warm affect of a wind tunnel at dawn, waiting for work, all sheen, inner curve, and posed emptiness. And those are not his worst times." Lest you think that Thomson is merely a curmudgeonly old British [man], let me emphasize that in many other places (through most of the book, in fact), he displays a humanity and generosity of spirit that is nothing short of exemplary. This book is not so much a reference on film as it is a meditation on life and everything in it. In these past hundred years movies have covered exactly that kind of encyclopedic range, both in their subject matter and in the lives of their makers. Thomson simply uses the world of cinema as a vehicle with which to explore the magnificent enigma of life and existence and somehow manages to pack more of that life into its 963 pages than any other book of any genre that I can think of. Opinionated, yes, but then again so is the Bible. A true desert island book. An absolute masterpiece.
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25 of 28 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
One of the "must have" books about the movies., July 7, 2003
I have bought every edition of this book (this is the fourth) and find each one well worth the money. Thomson is the best writer among the movie critics, probably the best writer that has ever reviewed movies. His writing is so good, even when disagreeing with him, I still love reading the reviews or biographical sketches. He has a tremendous poetic economy with the English Language: consider the following: About Bruce Dern in the film Coming Home: ". . . A rapturous embrace between Jane Fonda and Jon Voight was being watched by a wistful, suspicious Bruce Dern, his eyes lime pits of paranoia and resentment." Or Basil Rathbone: "The inverted arrow face, the razor nose, and a mustache that was really two fine shears stuck to his lip. Ladies looked fearfully at him, knowing that one embrace could cut them to ribbons." Both these passages capture the essence of the star perfectly. Just perfectly. The book is full of this kind of superior writing. The update has all the new stars, some who probably wish they were excluded. Who can not read a reviewer that says of Ben Affleck: ". . . Mr. Affleck is boring, complacent, and criminally lucky to have got away with everything so far." As I say, Thomson has a way of capturing things perfectly in a few words.
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31 of 41 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
a corrective, November 18, 2002
By A Customer
Boy does Thomson hate Fellini! That's fine, of course, but the author's cold bile (and British schoolboy elitism... he whacks Fellini over and over for daring to be born in a small town) make this almost useless as a real reference book. I guess it's fun to read as a cute, snotty film fan diary... but it's a thousand pages long! It should have come in a gift box, scribbled on damp, wadded cocktail napkins. Thomson hates John Ford, too. Again, fine. But he says that "The Last Hurrah" is Spencer Tracy's finest film (Ford directed it). Yet nowhere, NOWHERE, in the article on Ford is a single hint that there is a filmmaker present who could make Spencer Tracy's finest film. I guess the wounding thing is the hateful way that he mocks and ridicules we yokels who actually are stupid enough to enjoy Amarcord or La Dolce Vita. (He also seems completely ignorant, in his wild praise of Radio Days as an unprecedented, brilliant, sui generis masterpiece -- it's a great movie, but come on --, that the film is inconceivable without Amarcord... but that would mean that he would have to admit that Fellini, that unforgivably provincial clodhopper, had a style and some ideas.) Then again, this is a man who thinks Howard Hawks' last bowel movement should be preserved by the AFI (and surely "Man's Favorite Sport?", which Thomson cites as one of the screen's finest comedies, qualifies as a giant stinky...). He's right about a lot of things (Stanley Kramer [stinks]), but so what? And he's a fine, witty writer. Again, so what? Now I know what David Thomson thinks of Dorothy Gish. I can die a happy man.
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