Discussing books on movies … almost as good as watching them, and without the sticky floors!

When I was 10 years old, I discovered something that had a profound effect on the person I eventually would grow up to become: a section of the library devoted to the art of filmmaking. Even at that young age, I was fascinated by the art of cinema, but I will admit now – for the first time in print – that this fascination was not the principle reason behind my desire to check out as many books from this section as I could get my hands on. No, the truth is that I was compelled to read as many of these books as I could because – purely by chance – the first two I checked out included photographs of naked women in the midst of their texts. As fascinated as I was by film, my interest in the art was nothing compared to my fascination with boobies.

And though I have reached the age where such images are simply a mouse click away (truly these are the greatest days of mankind) I cannot help but believe that the inordinately large collection of film texts I’ve collected in the 20 years that have followed since is in no small part the result of my instinctual association between them and socially acceptable depictions of nudity. And it is thanks to this unconscious association that I have taken much joy from these books – a joy I wish to share in this column with you, the humble BOOKGASM reader, whether a worthwhile literary journey you should endeavor to take or to warn you of an uncomfortable trip no reader should be forced to endure.

It is with some regret that I inform you that there are no boobies in photographic display in the subject of today’s premiere article, THE DEVIL’S CANDY by Julie Salamon, but this deficit is easily ignored thanks to a hilarious passage in the book that describes an incident involving the most wonderful kind of breasts. I am, of course, referring to fake movie star breasts. In this case, the pair fashionably worn by Melanie Griffith back when she was still more sexy than frightening.

Salamon’s excellent 1991 book is a highly detailed, fly-on-the-wall account of the making of one of the most notorious flops of the ’90s, THE BONFIRE OF THE VANITIES. Given free reign by director Brian De Palma to go anywhere she wanted and talk to anyone willing to give her the time of day, Salamon was able to take this freedom and turn it into a warts-and-all depiction of what happens when Hollywood’s artistic ambitions are compromised by its necessary desire to turn a profit.

Hindsight being 20/20, it is easy to see how every creative decision documented in the book inevitably lead to both artistic and financial disaster. In trying to adapt the most aggressively downbeat satire of the ’80s, De Palma and company were screwed before they even started. Caught in a tug-of-war between staying true to author Tom Wolfe’s satiric intentions and telling a compelling story with sympathetic characters, the director and his cohorts ended up being able to do neither, and it is to Salamon’s credit that as she shows us their dramatic freefall into creative oblivion, we feel far more sympathy for them than scorn.

It was from reading this book, back when I was still in high school, that I realized how difficult it is to make a bad film, much less a good one. With a cast of characters filled with former and future Oscar winners, has-beens, wannabes, ambitious go-getters, amused onlookers, frightened executives, craven publicity seekers and Bruce Willis, one gets the sense that it is a major miracle that any good films get made at all.

And though Salamon takes the time to show us what this diverse group of filmmakers actually do to merit their paycheck (which made for a very welcome introduction to the realities of film production in the years before DVD special-feature documentaries), she still leaves plenty of room for the kind of gossipy behind-the-scenes moments a book like this is truly meant for.

Among the most memorable of these moments include star Tom Hanks dismissing a young Uma Thurman’s audition with him as “high school,” Lena Olin in turn dissing Hanks during her audition by insisting she had never heard of him, a bitch session in which various crew members lament how difficult it will be to make Melanie Griffith look attractive on film and, of course, the moment involving Ms. Griffith’s brand-new boobs.

You see, perhaps as a direct result of the abovementioned crewmember comments, the film’s female lead decided that she would improve her figure during the film’s Christmas break by going and altering her breasts to a significantly larger size. Having failed to inform anyone that she planned to do this, she caused shockwaves to ripple throughout the crew as everyone tried to figure out how they would fix the continuity nightmare caused by her new dimensions. But no one was more shocked about Melanie’s new boobs than De Palma himself, as he was first introduced to them when she grabbed him by his head and thrust his face directly into them.

As hilarious and bizarre as this moment in the book is, one does have to give props to Griffith for making the only smart creative decision of the entire film’s production, since the scene where she strips to her bra and panties (and thus shows off the results of her surgeon’s skilled hands; see Exhibit A) is easily the most memorable and worthwhile in the entire movie. –Allan Mott

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