Every second of every day, some starry-eyed teenybopper is dreaming about the bliss of moving to Hollywood and getting rich and famous overnight. Sure, that happens once in a blue moon, but most of the people who head west in pursuit of fame and fortune don’t achieve half of what they’re hoping for. And those who do usually end up paying a steep price.
In the new book, “Starmaker: Life as a Hollywood Publicist with Farrah, the Rat Pack and 600 More Stars Who Fired Me,” personal manager, publicist and producer Jay Bernstein (as told to Larry Cortez Hamm with David Rubini) tells a cautionary tale about the pitfalls and perils of Tinsletown.
The stars in the book are of a different generation, and it’s likely some people will scoff at the mention of them (Farrah Fawcett? Suzanne Somers?). But for an insider’s look at the glamorous world we all perceive Hollywood to be, Bernstein does a pretty decent job of giving the gritty details — when he’s legally allowed to do so — even when it makes him look chauvinistic and conniving.
In Bernstein’s Hollywood, the stars are what make the movies, not the other way around, and although Hollywood is still a literal and figurative place that holds some of its former tales of lore, the parameters for reaching fame have changed. Today, you no longer need to be a good actor or land a ton of roles. You just have to make a sex tape and let the world watch you fight with your family, and fame and fortune come rolling your way.
And though “Starmaker” is a nostalgic look at the film and television industries, it’s by no means romantic. Bernstein worked his tail off, and his inside perspective puts smudges all over Tinsletown’s shiny veneer. The major downfall of the book is that there is so much information that some of the best bits get lost in the shuffle.
Bernstein had quite a few tricks up his sleeve when it came to making deals and dough, but one person’s erratic and aloof attitude gave him a run for his money: Frank Sinatra. It’s stories like the ones about Frank and the rest of the Rat Pack, along with his anecdotal tales about some of his publicity ploys, that make the book worth reading.
The afterword in “Starmaker” notes that Bernstein, who was collaborating with Hamm, passed away suddenly in 2006 before he could write more thoroughly about some of his other Hollywood cohorts. Hamm also passed away in 2009, so though the book is bursting with reminiscences, there is much more that has been left unsaid.
Bernstein was in his prime in the ’70s, when Charlie still had his Angels and ThighMaster wasn’t yet a twinkle in anyone’s eye. He’s responsible for some of the most iconic faces in film history, whether the general public realizes it or not, and his honesty about his own behavior and motives, as well as those of his clients, make “Starmaker” an amusing, if slightly superficial, read.
Rating: W W W 1/2
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