lundi 17 janvier 2011
Eric Bogosian, PERFORATED HEART, New York, Simon & Schuster, 2009, 271 pages.
I need a break. I need to remove myself from these grinding gears of commerce. How can anything constructive be accomplished with so much money at stake? How can I write? Of course it's my own fault because twenty years ago I let them produce a movie based on a story of mine. That started all this, didn't it? I danced with the devil and that's how I ended up in the crosshairs. But how is it possible to be known as a great American writer without the movies? The playwrights all had movies. Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman was filmed seven times! No wonder he got to fuck Marylin. And the novelists too. Capote, Harper Lee, Steinbeck, Updike, Roth, Dick, Mann. Everything Hemingway wrote. It comes down to this, a movie is the fast path to a reputation. No movie, soon forgotten.