Down and Dirty Pictures: Miramax, Sundance and the Rise of Independent Film is a long, chaotic, sometimes over-the-top read, with lots of interesting characters, soundbites and a glut of interviews. It’s the story of how the gritty, realistic view of indie film in the 1990s became a staple of a moviegoer’s diet. By Peter Biskind, the book chronicles how indie films cemented its place in our cultural consciousness and ripped the cover off the business of producing and promoting movies, exposing its seedy underbelly.
For a time, all I could think of during a movie was how many scenes got left on the cutting room floor, whose fault it really was if it turned out to be a steaming turd pile, and who had had to be wined and dined to actually get the film promoted. In the end, if Biskind is to be believed, indie film isn’t nearly as independent as it professes to be.
He shone the spotlight on a number of major movie players, including a non-confrontational, passive-aggressive Robert Redford – pilloried as an irresponsible diva – and Quentin Tarantino, who comes off as the world’s greatest attention seeker, but the limelight is grabbed straightaway by Harvey Weinstein, gigantic both in person and persona.
For anyone with a finger on the pulse of pop culture, Continue reading “Everything’s Coming Up Harvey”
Saving for Botox 