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What I found was a memoir from an egotistical, cocky-indulgent adult female who lacks humility and the capacity for self-assay. Ane of those books where someone talks about all the drugs they've done, all the sh*t they've been through, but never seems to really examine the correlation betwixt the ii. And if they do accept responsibility for where they are, they only do it in tandem with i
Sigh. I'd always heard I needed to read this book - information technology was a 'must read' for anyone in The Industry in Hollywood.What I found was a memoir from an egotistical, cocky-indulgent woman who lacks humility and the chapters for cocky-analysis. One of those books where someone talks nigh all the drugs they've washed, all the sh*t they've been through, but never seems to actually examine the correlation between the 2. And if they do have responsibility for where they are, they only do it in tandem with insisting that the earth is confronting them.
Sure, there were a lot of insights to the way things worked in Hollywood in the 70'south and 80'due south...certain, at that place were a lot of drug stories about famous people (big whoop). Merely what did I go out of this (besides the moral that Julia is a 'my way or the highway'-kinda gal, and that if others don't concur with her, they're confronting her)? Not much.
Actions have consequences. So do behaviors. Grow up, Julia. Own your decisions, and recognize that your choices got you where you lot are.
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At 600 pages, this bluster remains in dire need of an editor, but would benefit fifty-fifty more from a plot. Basically, our not-so-humble narrator gets lucky with The Sting in 1973, and so it all turns to drugs, and so it all turns to shit. Her chief concern – beyond whatsoever pretence of allegiance to drug-dealers, family, colleagues and friends – appears to be keeping her tabular array at a dining-pigsty in Hollywood where she tin see and be seen, hence the tit
A long trawl through shallow waters - well, shallow people.At 600 pages, this rant remains in dire need of an editor, simply would do good even more than from a plot. Basically, our not-so-humble narrator gets lucky with The Sting in 1973, then it all turns to drugs, and so it all turns to shit. Her master concern – beyond any pretence of fidelity to drug-dealers, family, colleagues and friends – appears to be keeping her tabular array at a dining-pigsty in Hollywood where she can meet and be seen, hence the title.
The fact that Hollywood power-brokers are non-creative, cliquey, scandalously overpaid, vain, aggressive, addictive, obsessive, compulsive and in a higher place all treacherous parasites should come as no surprise to anyone who's bothered to pick upward this volume. What is surprising is that an operator with all of those traits and more could vomit up a story from information technology and non break long enough to notice whatsoever redemption whatsoever in herself or her surroundings.
Possibly the saddest testament to this tragedy comes in reading it today, 15-years after publication. Names that once clattered when she dropped them now band hollow as even the internet tin can't dredge up any trace of them. And as for those who remain 'names,' take a look at the bonus features disc of The Sting DVD – Redford, Newman et al looking back on their film in 2005 (a film that Phillips spends one-half the volume telling us was her creative genius) and the proper name 'Phillips' does non come in one case in hours of recorded material. Who she?
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It would be easier to
Julia Phillips burned her bridges beyond recognition with this memoir of life in the fast lane of 1970s Hollywood. At that place are very few people who were large from the tardily 1960s to the early 1990s who aren't mentioned hither, mostly unfavorably. The lady had good reason to be angry; the machinations of getting a flick fabricated are ludicrous plenty to bulldoze anyone over the edge. She freely admits that she didn't help her own crusade by spending most of her time looking for her next high.It would exist easier to exist on her side - she was, after all, the starting time female producer to win a Best Picture Oscar, and was behind some seminal films (The Sting, Taxi Driver, Shut Encounters of the 3rd Kind) if she didn't go out of her way to be so unlikeable. She has the redeeming feature of the nifty honey she has for her girl, Kate, who sounds like phenomenal person. Other than that, all the same, she sounds like the archetype egotist (and, ridiculously astern in her linguistic communication). She is smarter (in her own listen) than nigh anybody she meets, she calls black people the N-give-and-take and gay people all manner of slurs. Her discrimination about people who are overweight is downright repulsive.
You'll Never Swallow Dejeuner In This Town Again is full of aliases in club to avert lawsuits, I doubtable, but I also suspect that Hollywood insiders knew exactly which people Phillips was referring to when she changed a proper name. Nevertheless, she is fine with naming and shaming Spielberg, Geffen, Erica Jong and numerous others. David Geffen was so furious with the release of this book that he dumped her from the negotiations they were in the eye of for Interview with the Vampire. And, as it turned out, she didn't have lunch in some of the well-nigh important places in that town again. She got banned from Morton's where, for many years, she had her own tabular array.
I would have liked the book meliorate (I do beloved dish, so it would normally be tailor-fabricated for me) if (ane) information technology had been proofed for grammar (for someone who is supposedly so intelligent, she should know how to use the words "I" and "me" in a judgement); and (ii) if it had been shorter (a good editor could accept shown her how to tighten information technology upwards and dump the inapplicable, existential meandering). I'm very glad I read it; I just wish I'd liked information technology, and her, a bit more.
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But this is one book written by a celebrity that is virtually definitely not ghost-written.... and maybe it should have been. Information technology's hideously self-indulgent and seems like it was never edited or revised. I am a fast reader and it took me several hours to get through 100 pages of this book.
By all means this should be a fascinating, juicy Hollywood tell-all. I was thrilled to spot it in a secondhand store and grabbed it, primarily because of the excellent cover design on the vintage version I'd establish.Just this is one book written by a celebrity that is most definitely not ghost-written.... and maybe it should have been. Information technology's hideously self-indulgent and seems similar it was never edited or revised. I am a fast reader and information technology took me several hours to get through 100 pages of this book. I could not finish it.
This COULD have been great. And for a book that trash-talks so many of Julia Phillips' peers at the time, it should at least be well-written to exist worth called-for all those bridges. Only information technology'southward not.
It reads exactly like how someone on coke talks, which is to say, rambly, incoherent, and irritating.
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A backside-the-scenes tell-all of my favorite UFO movie, written past a drug addicted movie producer who happens to be the beginning female movie producer to win an Oscar for best picture? Sounded irresistible so I picked up a re-create of Julia Phillips' best-selling Hollywood chronicle. OK, there was far less about "Close Encounters of The 3rd Kind" than I had hoped for. "You'll Never Due east Lunch in This Town Again" is really the autobiography of Julia Phillips. Truthfully, I had never heard of Julia Phil
A behind-the-scenes tell-all of my favorite UFO film, written past a drug addicted movie producer who happens to be the start female movie producer to win an Oscar for best picture? Sounded irresistible and so I picked up a copy of Julia Phillips' best-selling Hollywood chronicle. OK, there was far less about "Close Encounters of The Third Kind" than I had hoped for. "You'll Never E Lunch in This Town Again" is actually the autobiography of Julia Phillips. Truthfully, I had never heard of Julia Phillips who died in 2002 - 10 years before I discovered her somehow, via my wayward web surfing.
Phillips begins by chronicling her childhood in Brooklyn during the 1940's. From there she makes her way through higher, and and then onto her marriage to young man producer Michael Phillips. After about a 100 pages, she begins detailing her rise through the movie industry. Strangely, aside from the chapters on Close Encounters, Phillips discusses many more pre-production situations about money, hiring, etc. - than she does the actual piece of work on the sets of her films. Sometimes, especially during the start one-half of the book, Phillips phases out of present tense, and holds flashback sessions in which she refers to herself in the 3rd person. While reading, this technique seemed a tad disruptive and unnecessary. Aside from that, Phillips' obvious talent as a author demonstrates why she enjoyed such a successful movie producer - for a while, at least.
Subsequently reading "You'll Never Eat ...." here in 2012, I found that it does not live up to advanced billing as a "shocking tell-all." Perhaps I feel this fashion because I've get desensitized from two decades of celebrity tell-all books published since the initial release of Phillips' volume in 1991. Still, I should acknowledge that Phillips raised the bar for books of this nature when "You'll Never Eat …" first came out.
A lot the hubbub surrounding this book must have centered on her the endless derisive comments and personality critiques Phillips makes about influential Hollywood characters of the late 70's and 1980'due south. Merely aside from a couple notorious observations virtually Goldie Hawn, the dirt is usually limited to grapheme assassinations of her business and pic manufacture contemporaries. And sometimes, she's even a bit evasive about the identity of her targets past skipping the proper noun and just alluding to whom the person might be. This usually happens when she's discusses the drug utilize of other Hollywood figures. Not very over-the-top. And if you're too immature (like yours truly) to exist familiar with the picture show moguls and big names of the 1970's y'all may not have an idea of who she's describing/disparaging anyway.
Toward the very end of the book, Phillips recounts a close see (pun intended) with a fairly mod celebrity:
"Paula Abdul, who has choreographed several of Mary's videos, comes over to say hello, and we invite her to sit. Within a minute, she is pouring her heart out to Mary virtually the lousy treatment she's received from Janet Jackson, who has not best-selling Paula's contribution to her videos or her stardom. She must accept been truly injure to be so open in front end of a complete stranger. The old Hollywood boogie...... A year later on Abdul'southward anthology would have four striking singles and soar to number one. Had she become a star because another star rejected her? A instance of 'fuck me? no fuck you' .......No uncertainty."
Phillips' auto-bio is replete with dandy observations similar this one (above). In a way, Phillips was holding a mirror up to the ugly, selfish and greedy side of the entertainment industry - the side that virtually never see. Phillips' witty, and often mischievous writing style, combined with her very judgmental and sometimes spitfire attitude carried me though all 615 pages. In other words, "Yous'll Never Due east Lunch in This Town Again" remains an engaging read - considering that it is a somewhat dated account of the movie industry in the late 70'south and eighty'due south.
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Until I read this book, I had no idea what a producer might actually contribute to a film. Equally described by Phillips, a producer pretty much does everything that no 1 else has washed——and chronicles this
This was such an entertaining book to read——very witty, very dishy, and and then very Hollywood. Julia Phillips won an Oscar for producing 1 of the finest films in history, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and she was involved in the production of other fine films such as Taxi Commuter and the Sting.Until I read this book, I had no thought what a producer might actually contribute to a pic. Every bit described by Phillips, a producer pretty much does everything that no one else has done——and chronicles this in the context of a downward personal spiral fueled by drugs du jour, mostly cocaine, the "breakfast of champions." Reminiscent of the equally witty musings of Carrie Fisher but Phillips names names.
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Julia is a sharp wi
This is a Hollywood book that makes me glad my fantasies of condign a characteristic filmmaker never came true. Julia Phillips was a successful female (one of the first) film producer in the latter part of the 20th Century with credits such equally "The Sting," "Close Encounters...," "Taxi Driver," and others that take left their mark upon us all. As a result, she looks at the film business from the pinnacle down, the POV of the money people and conclusion makers that manipulate everyone else.Julia is a sharp witted, sharp tongued niggler who manages to find error with everyone she e'er met, friends, concern assembly, lovers, her ex-husband, and herself. Regarding Goldie Hawn: "She is an okay broad. The best thing almost her is The Laugh. The worst is that she is borderline muddied, with stringy hair - all the time."
This about a party at Jane Fonda's house loaded with superlative film talent: "...these social gatherings that Hollywood people invent for themselves, usually to enhance money for the cause of the week, bring out my shyness. Maybe snobbery, too, because it's pretty funny, all this posturing, from a agglomeration of people who are predominately street hustlers, most of whom haven't gone to higher, let alone graduated from high school. They read moving their lips and they take horrible tabular array manners."
Something else that Julia reveals is the biggy amount of drugs consumed by the Hollywood elite. "To exist perfectly off-white though, I accept been partaking from a panoply of mood enhancers, stimulants and depressants all day. Every in one case in awhile, I would strike upon the perfect chemical combination: for Oscar dark it's been a diet pill, a small-scale corporeality of coke, two joints, six halves of Valium, which makes iii, and a glass and a half of vino. So far, I have a warm and comfortable feeling of well-being."
Say what?
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While Phillip's account was compelling, a few thoughts nagged at me. Where was her husband all this time? She describes him like a slice of furntiture leading a seperate life. How could she hold a job? Is Hollyowood actually that forgiving? Tin can you put all those drugs on your expense account? And what kind of parent was she to her young daughter? Phillips spends a lot of time tearing down other Hollywodo types (and may take been crossed off a few A lists), but the volume really paints a very agonizing portrait of its author. ...more than
But, oh, that offset chapter. Phillips tells ALL virtually the nighttime she won an Oscar, as a producer, for The Sting, and information technology'south exhilarating to peek into the backlog and ennui of the night. That first chapter I'll never forget.
I tin't believe I've never read this, existence an (abashed) Hollywoodphile. Turns out, I couldn't go through most of it. Information technology was a box-office bummer, truly equally miserable as it was juicy.Only, oh, that first chapter. Phillips tells ALL well-nigh the night she won an Oscar, as a producer, for The Sting, and it's exhilarating to peek into the backlog and ennui of the night. That first affiliate I'll never forget.
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To follow her wheelings and dealings is actually fun. She e'er has a quick quip or snappy putdown, just she also works really hard and has plenty of practiced reasons for her artistic choices. Her personal ones: less so. She likes handsome men, DRUGS, and spending money on furs, jewels, and travel. I'd love to hear what her girl has to say almost all of this: many of the incidents described in her home are HORRIBLE for children, from seeing her
This is frenetic and weird and funny and inappropriate.To follow her wheelings and dealings is actually fun. She always has a quick quip or snappy putdown, simply she likewise works really hard and has plenty of good reasons for her creative choices. Her personal ones: less then. She likes handsome men, DRUGS, and spending coin on furs, jewels, and travel. I'd dear to hear what her daughter has to say nigh all of this: many of the incidents described in her dwelling house are HORRIBLE for children, from seeing her mom melt upward freebase to having mom's boyfriend shoot upwards the house. She presents this equally absurd and funny, which information technology is, but also: a child without control of her own life and surroundings had to go through this.
She provides a lot of details in some places and not so many in others. She tin tell you what she wore and where she sat on a particular night, but the whole explosion that sent her out of Hollywood gets remarkably few pages. I reread that section a few times to encounter what I missed--was it throwing the drugs on the tabular array of an of import meeting? Was it the open hole-and-corner of drugs in general? Was information technology the cowardice or weaseling of the people effectually her looking to push her out? There's a scrap of foreshadowing nigh betrayal, but it'south non articulate to me how/why that exactly all went down. She has the tone of someone being completely honest with yous--about her love/detest relationship with drugs, nigh her triumphs and frustrations with the motion-picture show biz, nigh her body and aging, about people she worked with, just underneath that there's a lot that goes unsaid. The denouement of Close Encounters being a example in bespeak.
Her improvement is fascinating besides. The fact that she's a woman is all over this, running with the men, trying to become them to have her seriously, trying to play their game with their aggression and big egos, and succeeding for the most role, often to exist reminded that she's a woman and therefore will never actually count as much. The transition to the "suits" of the 1980s and the money grubbing and greed and ridiculous pictures after the "creative" menstruation of the 1970s is dramatic. She, as an individual, every bit a person, as a unique snowflake, patently made her own choices. Only at that place's the larger story of her fighting the world and using drugs as a creative enhancer every bit well as to handle the stress of Hollywood but also Hollywood equally a woman. I think she does a skillful job of pointing out how she acted simply also the context in which she acted. And she never blames anyone else for the drugs--she liked them, she did them. Merely it's easy to see the environment in which she did them.
I enjoyed the writing. Sometimes, her puns were a petty much for me (Ball JOKES ARE HILARIOUS, EVEN Brawl JOKES WE'VE HEARD BEFORE). But in general, I found her style fresh and vibrant, and this was written 20-odd years ago. I didn't always get the transition from first to third person or her movie script pieces. I call up the tertiary person is supposed to requite her more than a chance to reflect on what she felt (equally a middle-aged woman) coming through all of this, as her standard kickoff-person autobiography narrates the events of life. These different sections become near indistinguishable both in content and format as her autobiography catches up with her present. And the moving-picture show scenes aren't a coherent film (maybe that's the point?) considering they aren't used consistently enough or to tell a complete film plot. Merely, as she says, what pic doesn't accept its gimmicks? What life?
A fun read. Somewhen I just let the names slide over me and enjoyed the crazy ride.
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Beware of Warren Beatty.
A niggling dated, circa 1992, but yet relevant if you want to figure out the Hollywood movie subculture. LUNCH is autobiographical and equally much a cautionary tale of drug habit as insider info. I had a brief run-in with Hollywood when my novel Dejection DELUXE was published in the mid '90s; had my very ain Hollywood Agent for a while, but zip e'er came of it, and B.D. is now out of print. Looking back on information technology now, my experience was a flake of a Grab 22: she snapped me up, on the chance that my bo
A little dated, circa 1992, only still relevant if you want to figure out the Hollywood movie subculture. Luncheon is autobiographical and as much a cautionary tale of drug addiction as insider info. I had a cursory run-in with Hollywood when my novel BLUES DELUXE was published in the mid '90s; had my very own Hollywood Agent for a while, but zippo e'er came of information technology, and B.D. is at present out of print. Looking dorsum on it now, my experience was a bit of a Catch 22: she snapped me up, on the chance that my book might hit the best seller lists, when she would and so be positioned to make a deal; I was trying to practise information technology backwards, by finagling a pic bargain to hype book sales.
Anyway, LUNCH is a lot of fun to read; the gal is a hell of a writer. Julia makes herself look so bad that it's hard non to believe every word of her story. For sheer fun, this book is difficult to beat, and you lot may learn a thing or 2 well-nigh Hollywood while you lot are smiling and laughing. Then groaning at how a once powerful woman could become herself into such a mess.
WHAT DO YOU SAY WHEN WARREN BEATTY SUGGESTS A THREESOME WITH YOU AND YOUR TEENAGED Girl? Julia: "We're both too onetime for you lot."
I as well enjoyed James Bacon's HOLLYWOOD IS A FOUR Letter of the alphabet Town, but that's fifty-fifty more dated, at ©1976, almost a supporting actor who mingled with a lot of "the greats." Information technology has Steve McQueen, Jackie Gleason, Red Skelton, Stan Laurel, Bing Crosby, Bob Hope, Zsa Zsa, Groucho, Sinatra, etc.
Another awesome book on the Hollywood power construction, also from 1992, is THE Club RULES past Paul Rosenfield. Very literary, and perceptive; Rosenfield made me stop reading often to think near the implications of what he was writing.
I haven't kept up on the latest Hollywood Exposé books. Simply the central Hollywood truth won't change no affair how the tiny details adjust.
Nobody In Hollywood Wants To Hear About Anyone They Oasis't Already Heard Well-nigh.
You won't "break in," they will hear nearly you lot and then they volition come for yous (with every intention of robbing yous blind); so get three independent experts to sextuple-check any deal you are thinking of signing.
I have a shelf of books on how to break into Hollywood and how to write screenplays, stuff similar that. Reading almost of them was a waste of time. (Except that I'm a "carrot" not a "stick" kind of guy, and so possibly I needed to read lots of crap to "go along the dream alive" so I would keep moving forward.)
David Chasman's sparse volume of aphorisms, EVERYTHING I NEEDED TO KNOW Nearly SUCCEEDING IN HOLLYWOOD I LEARNED FROM MY PIT-Balderdash, circa 1995 still kicks ass in 2013.
THE DEVIL'South GUIDE TO HOLLYWOOD by Joe Eszterhas ©2006 is the most up-to-date Hollywood book I've read, but, while I
do recommend this book, it mostly expands on the info in PIT-BULL.In the mid Ninties I wanted to write a screenplay of my novel BLUES DELUXE. My vague thought was that this would somehow assist me to "Suspension Into Hollywood." The actual screenplay format is a elementary structure; even then, I knew I didn't dare jump correct in and write the BLUES Palatial screenplay. I needed a learning feel. And then, I wrote an original action run a risk screenplay first. It's really non too bad. (Needs piece of work.) But I learned a lot, by really writing a screenplay: so that is my advice to other writers who want to learn how to write a screenplay. Write 1! Then write the 1 you really want to write.
I am somewhat disappointed that I actually adopt the BLUES Deluxe screenplay I wrote to my original novel. The screenplay is actually improve, in my opinion. [insert pitiful-face icon] Now become read Yous'LL NEVER Eat Lunch IN THIS Town Once again. @hg47
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Considering Ms. Phillips, while being a "woman pioneer in a male dominated industry" also shows that actualy she gets somellace in it because she is an asshole like the rest of them, the men she hates for the particulars she ever remembers. She hates herself, too, incredibly then, for the kinds of men she gets down with turn out to be the very sort "proto-feminists" similar her have complained about for years. But hey this is Hollywood! Nobody will honey you for who you are, and they will hate yous for what they think you are.
She becomes a fantabulous cleft addict pretty quick as soon as the first freebase torch shows up. All these Hollywood-sorts can ignore the drug laws- they far are above being mere mortals anyway. They get their dope messengered-in by courier. They can blow off courtroom appearances, post bail, become fined a slap on the wrist and be back in action adjacent week. They tin can fly around the world with a stash in their sock, sneak coke into rehab, and do all mode of things that y'all and I, mere little people, take to realize are beyond our own boundaries to try.
Now that I know this was all a corking portrait of 80's-xc's excess, in many ways information technology is a very good flick of a dysfunctional careerist in a business organisation I don't retrieve I would desire much to do with (and then why did I study film in college anyway, if what might have happened was, I'd have ended upward as a 3rd string grip working for assholes like Ms. Phillips! Perish the thought.)
So she gets 2 stars, mainly for being a train wreck, and why the hell I ought to care about a scissure freak only because she fabricated a big proper name for herself being as much an asshole as the men she felt the need to destroy (along with the usual cattiness against sis movie-people) by writing this.
"I did it my style." Oh, but didn't you. ...more than
Parts are hilarious. Parts (like dealing with Scorcese on the Taxi Driver editing and Truffaut and Dreyfuss and the intricacies of the marketing on CETK) are incredibly compelling. I enjoyed her childhood and adolescence stuff as well Julia Phillips was a trail-blazer. Bright, driven. An amazingly accomplished person. Many of her feats in the film manufacture might be deemed inspirational. She is also a fantastic writer...sort of. Unfortunately...she's doesn't evangelize a fantastic autobiography here.
Parts are hilarious. Parts (like dealing with Scorcese on the Taxi Driver editing and Truffaut and Dreyfuss and the intricacies of the marketing on CETK) are incredibly compelling. I enjoyed her childhood and adolescence stuff too. The prose is often evocative and sometimes poetic. Yet...when Julia hits the 80s, the attraction of this book falls apart as quickly as her life did back then. Her writing in the first half isn't gentle, it's spinous and acerbic, and she takes no prisoners, but in the second one-half is an enraged stomp over nigh everyone she encounters. It's also, early 80s onwards, incredibly depressing, with her cocky-indulgent and self-destructive slide (leap!) into drug-use and span-called-for. She sorta comes back to life and work in the late 80s, but she is a mere shadow of what she once was.
Julia Phillips was an enormous bitch - if this book is any indication. She slams every single person she mentions (except her girl) mercilessly, seeking out the negatives far more consistently than the positives. However - credit to her - she doesn't hibernate her own grapheme. Warts and all, she comes across equally almost equally despicable as the people she encounters on her sad slingshot through life.
A talented writer - although the book has about iv times as many ancedotes equally it needs (there's some juicy bits, but far too much repetition about drugs and people nosotros don't care about, especially in the second half). A talented, brilliant person - simply this is cached underneath a priviledged, racist, bigoted, rich bowwow sensibility.
Julia Phillips had many facets - and accomplishments - that I admire. Nevertheless this book let me with a colossal amount of pity for her.
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