It feels like this book was written by the numbers. Interview all remaining cast and crew, divide the production into areas - photography, sets, makeup, etc and then regurgitate. Moreover, the author becomes almost fulsome in some of his repetitive descriptions. There is nothing personal or reflective in the telling.
It's very hard to judge a book like this, where the author undergoes a life-changing transition. Inconsistencies pop up everywhere. So many examples - in the beginning, he is a reluctant icnoclast, but towards the end he reveals that he was expelled from Yeshiva at an early age. He complains about money but at times he buys all kinds of stuff. He worries about going to the library, but at other times he has loads of secular books in his home. None the less, a heartbreaking story.
It's hard to review a biography without reviewing the author's life. “My Life Watching Movies” is a pretty straightforward description of the book. A lot of personal information that I would rather not have known. Loses a lot of steam at the end with the author's meditations on the importance of Film Criticism, his Father and an order of magnitude increase in profanity. The greatest shock was learning about Robert Duvall's antisemitic hate letter.
Oh was this tedious! The same ideas in every chapter:
- I must remain faithful to Poirot and his creator
- I'm so lucky to be a character actor
- I must support my family
- the critics were so kind to me
- everyone loves Poirot
- I am Poirot
Either the author is a supreme narcissist or an extremely innocent man.