Books by Richard Fleischer:
Just Tell Me When to Cry by Richard Fleischer
Fleischer has directed 47 feature films, including Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea , Doctor Dolittle , Tora! Tora! Tora! and Conan the Destroyer , but his delightful memoir is concerned less with his own accomplishments than with his encounters with "the moguls, monsters, superstars, greats, near-greats and ingrates of Hollywood." While admiring their individual talent, Fleischer is appalled by their sometimes infantile behavior. In a series of often hilarious anecdotes, he describes John Wayne's petty side, Kirk Douglas's ludicrous demands for attention, Robert Mitchum's methodical trashing of a set during a tantrum and Darryl Zanuck's very public infatuation with the French singer Juliette Greco. Other celebrated figures whose portraits are decidedly unflattering: Howard Hughes, Laurence Olivier, Orson Welles, Charles Bronson. Among those who escape unscathed: Irish playwright Brendan Behan, with whom the director spent a teetotaling but nontheless wild day in Dublin, and Edward G. Robinson, one movie star Fleischer admired as a human being.
Fleischer has directed 47 feature films, including Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea , Doctor Dolittle , Tora! Tora! Tora! and Conan the Destroyer , but his delightful memoir is concerned less with his own accomplishments than with his encounters with "the moguls, monsters, superstars, greats, near-greats and ingrates of Hollywood." While admiring their individual talent, Fleischer is appalled by their sometimes infantile behavior. In a series of often hilarious anecdotes, he describes John Wayne's petty side, Kirk Douglas's ludicrous demands for attention, Robert Mitchum's methodical trashing of a set during a tantrum and Darryl Zanuck's very public infatuation with the French singer Juliette Greco. Other celebrated figures whose portraits are decidedly unflattering: Howard Hughes, Laurence Olivier, Orson Welles, Charles Bronson. Among those who escape unscathed: Irish playwright Brendan Behan, with whom the director spent a teetotaling but nontheless wild day in Dublin, and Edward G. Robinson, one movie star Fleischer admired as a human being.
Out of the Inkwell by Richard Fleischer
Richard Fleischer achieved a measure of success as the director of such movies as Fantastic Voyage, but in Hollywood history he is dwarfed by his father, animated-cartoon pioneer and technological innovator Max Fleischer. Besides creating the jazz-age siren Betty Boop and bringing Popeye and Superman to the screen, Max invented the rotoscope, a process for creating animated cartoons by tracing live-action footage. Curiously, in this lively memoir his son seems more enthusiastic about Max's inventions than about his cartoons, which get relatively short shrift, perhaps because, while Max ran the studio (much like rival Walt Disney), others directed the cartoons. Richard also dwells heavily on business matters, especially Max's disastrous 1938 decision to move his studio from New York to Miami, which set the stage for Paramount to seize control and drive him out of business. There was no second act for Max, who slowly declined until his death in 1972. Richard's loving if not exactly unbiased portrait is an entertaining supplement to more substantive and objective accounts of Max's significance to cinema. Gordon Flagg
Richard Fleischer achieved a measure of success as the director of such movies as Fantastic Voyage, but in Hollywood history he is dwarfed by his father, animated-cartoon pioneer and technological innovator Max Fleischer. Besides creating the jazz-age siren Betty Boop and bringing Popeye and Superman to the screen, Max invented the rotoscope, a process for creating animated cartoons by tracing live-action footage. Curiously, in this lively memoir his son seems more enthusiastic about Max's inventions than about his cartoons, which get relatively short shrift, perhaps because, while Max ran the studio (much like rival Walt Disney), others directed the cartoons. Richard also dwells heavily on business matters, especially Max's disastrous 1938 decision to move his studio from New York to Miami, which set the stage for Paramount to seize control and drive him out of business. There was no second act for Max, who slowly declined until his death in 1972. Richard's loving if not exactly unbiased portrait is an entertaining supplement to more substantive and objective accounts of Max's significance to cinema. Gordon Flagg