I came to this book knowing absolutely nothing about Elaine May, and so I was, I suppose, very open to being persuaded that she is a misunderstood genius. I remember the Far Side comic about Ishtar (I had to ask my dad to explain it to me), and I guess I had uncritically accepted the idea that it’s a terrible movie and had no intention of watching it. The vehemence of that aesthetic judgment, and its broad acceptance, probably ought to give one pause. So I at least was willing to grant the possibility that, as the biography argues, it’s really not that bad, and that May was consistently held to an entirely different standard from male directors. The book also suggests that she has a profound grasp of emotional nuance, and a gift for humor and that she has a profound aversion to the spotlight, such that she has actively refused credit for much of her work, preferring to be behind the scenes.
I found the book interesting because it’s so blatantly polemical, though I was also put off by moments where the author smugly claims superior knowledge of what things “really” mean or how they happened, over the views of the people who actually lived them. Perhaps what is most compelling to me about it is the representation of genius — how you convey the sense that someone has some kind of gift far beyond the capabilities of everyone else. All the more interesting when that genius is a woman.
That said, I think the appeal of the book to people who aren’t already interested in Elaine May is fairly limited.
Kasia Reads 