From Kirkus Reviews:
Stale Hollywood-biz gossip. Starting in 1969, Rosenfield spent a decade as the ``leg'' (legman) for Joyce Haber, the Los Angeles Times successor to Hedda Hopper. He's now pasted his two decades' worth of jottings into a rough assemblage of a factitious establishment called ``the club''- -an always shifting power nexus of top studio heads, producers, directors, and stars. His pages sometimes stupefy as they go on and on with names randomly magnetized to names: ``Debra Winger got in because of Jim Bridges, and in spite of Robert Evans not wanting her for Urban Cowboy. Debra Winger stayed in because of Larry Mark and An Officer and a Gentleman and Jim Brooks. And in spite of Richard Gere not wanting to do love scenes with her. Polly Platt stayed in because of Jim Brooks. Polly Platt got in because of Orson Welles and Peter Bogdanovich. Orson Welles stayed in because of Peter Bogdanovich and Cybill Shepherd,'' etc., etc. At times, Rosenfield stops for interviews with various entrenched powerhouses (Steven Spielberg, Sydney Pollack) or those on their way elsewhere (Robert Evans). During the Evans interview, Jack Nicholson wanders in and lights ``a hand-rolled cigarette.'' Nice moments include Jane Fonda saying, ``You have to retain sexuality and it's a big bore.'' And Billy Wilder admitting his deep disappointment when he failed to land Cary Grant for the Melvyn Douglas role opposite Garbo in Ninotchka. And Spielberg breathing deeply as he says, ``The last great movie was Godfather I...it's the last one in terms of a classic--ranking right up there with The Grapes of Wrath.'' There's also much here on hotels and watering holes (Ma Maison is pass‚). Some fun as strong folks speak from a moving ice floe of insecurities--but tedium too. -- Copyright ©1992, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
From Publishers Weekly:
Likely to please screen fans, this expose of Hollywood's power club, with a shifting membership of 1000, lives up to its promise to be "dishy, bitchy, pithy and sly." A seven-figure income is a prerequisite, according to L.A. Times reporter Rosenfield, for membership among its studio chiefs, bankers, attorneys, agents and the performers around which they revolve. From a roster of 400 names, the author selects a few for astute character profiles--Lucille Ball among them--that include descriptions of mansions, hangouts and getaways to illustrate how careers based on talent, sex, ego and studio-engineered stardom or derived from bloodlines, marriage, personal or business connections won them places in the club. Eternally insecure Hollywood, Rosenfield asserts, depends on exchanges of favors, with everyone keeping score. Cynical as his appraisal is, Rosenfield also gives credit for achievement.
Copyright 1992 Reed Business Information, Inc.
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