Aubrey Malone

‘You can take all the sincerity in Hollywood,’ Fred Allen emoted, ‘place it in the navel of a fruit fly, and still have room for three caraway seeds and the heart of a producer.’

Gary Busey said there are only three things you needed to know to make it in the movie capital: ‘Learn to cry, make your own salad, and die in slow motion.’ Melissa Mathison added, ‘It used to be a great town. My mother used to let us off on Hollywood Boulevard to play. Now you’d never see your child again.’

William Faulkner said it was the only place in the world where you could be stabbed in the back while you were climbing a ladder.’ Wilson Mizner hissed, ‘They almost made a good picture there once but they caught it in time.’

Moss Hart called it ‘the most beautiful slave quarters in the world.’ Lauren Bacall added, ‘It’s the only place in the world where an amicable divorce means each party get 50% of the publicity.’ Uma Thurman claimed, ‘Even the air is dishonest there.’ The Italian director Michelangelo Antonioni mused, ‘Hollywood is like being nowhere and talking to nobody about nothing.’

Those of us in the audiences, meanwhile, sit watching our plaster saints from darkened pews, removed momentarily from the world we have to go back to when the lights come up.

Malice in Blunderland deals with the bitchiness, the sleaze, the mendacity, the wildness, the feuds, the typecasting, the failed marriages and the hypocrisy of Tinseltown’s plaster saints.

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