Fun in Chinese Laundry

Of great interest if you're a fan of von Sternberg's films and possibly even if you're not. He was so well-suited to autobiography: opinionated, amusing, and clear-eyed and unstinting in cataloging the ways in which lesser beings had wronged him. If you are familiar with his films there's a lot here to deepen your appreciation. For example, the fact that his first job after leaving Vienna for New York was in a millinery shop. It's a brief passage in the book and it was a brief passage in his life, but the imagery was clearly an influence on his tendency to crowd his frames with all manner of texture and shadows. You needn't have seen the films, though, to enjoy bits such as: "In this period I made some friends. One of them drowned in a lake while on vacation, and another took me to my first restaurant and made me intoxicated for the first and only time in my life, filled my pockets with ice cubes, and paid for some woman to sit next to me and massage my thighs."

Jo Sternberg received his first screen credit in 1923, as an assistant director. The film's producer streched Jo's name by adding the --sef von-- to it, saying the longer title sounded regal. Sternberg hated the idea, until criticism came in from everywhere that "the Huns are taking over Hollywood." Because of this backlash, Jo defiantly chose to keep his new moniker. This vignette speaks volumes about Mr. Sternberg. As a director, he was widely hated by dozens of actors, writers and producers. In FUN IN A CHINESE LAUNDRY, Sternberg deflects and denies every charge, yet could all those accusations be false? Jo admits that he routinely criticized actors for not following his instructions precisely, and never gave praise when they performed well. To him, blandishments would have been like "praising them for breathing." The man has nothing good to say about actors and their craft, and he takes up two entire chapters doing so. Special "attention" is lavished on the despised Emil Jannings (a "manipulator") and Charles Laughton ("masochistic" and "a daymare"). Sternberg is an excellent storyteller, particularly about the many exotic locales he'd visited. His memories of individual movies reveal a colossal ego-- every minor actor he came in contact with was immediately launched to stardom, so he claims. The director is everything; the cast and story secondary. His cinematic flops were someone else's fault-- in his own mind, Jo could do no wrong. And yet for all the rant and egocentrism, FUN IN A CHINESE LAUNDRY is a fascinating read. Simply take Jo's occasional forays into excessive metaphoric semi-colonisms with a grain of aspirin, and wait for the good parts. You'll be more than amply rewarded. Josef von Sternberg was annoyed that people constantly confused him with his directorial contemporary, STROHEIM.

In this magisterial autobiography, Josef von Sternberg reflects about his personal career, film and its history and art. Von Sternberg will always be remembered for one of the most impressive movies of all times 'Der blaue Engel', but his career covers the sound and silent movie period. It is a very revealing book, not about his personal life, but about his professional viewpoints and struggles. His actor's direction was based on a penetrating insight into the real human nature. First, he considered that 'the guinea pig of the artist is his own self' and secondly, that 'the average human being lives behind an impenetrable veil and will disclose his deep emotions only in a crisis which robs him of control'. His professional life was an enduring fight with (1) the film studios and its producers. He knew their blatant commercialism: 'If a snail were to offer a contribution of value to Hollywood, it would be located instantly'. (2) his actors (an E. Jannings or a C. Laughton behaved like bad children on the set. A notable exception was his miraculous actress Marlene Dietrich.) (3) his rivals within the director's guild. and ultimately when the movie was produced (4) the moral establishment and its servile movie critics. Von Sternberg understood the profound impact of the film medium, which revealed 'the real world where wealth and poverty live side by side, and where cruelty and indifference can no longer be ignored.' The medium has an amoral basis: 'the strongest appeal to the masses was the simplest one: the formula always revolves around sex and its biological associate, violence. ... One bond that links all audiences is the animal in man.' He also gives us a penetrating portrait of some of the greatest masters of cinema: D.W. Griffith ('remove these 10000 horses a trifle to the right'), C. Chaplin ('the comic side of humiliation') or E. von Stroheim ('the intensity of his actor's direction'). His ultimate goal was to create 'art', for 'it is easier to kill than to create.' The overall picture shows us von Sternberg as a noble, passionate, honest, craftful and extremely intelligent movie director. This autobiography is part thriller, part melo, part drama, part psychoanalysis. It is an essential read, not only for the film historian.

Full of cynical, razor-sharp and often very funny opinions. It's so one-sided, however, that I came away very curious to read what Dietrich herself thought about their relationship-- preferably in her own words. Sternberg was definitely quite a character, and his autobiography is vastly entertaining.