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A review by kahn_johnson
Madly, Deeply: The Alan Rickman Diaries by Alan Rickman
3.0
There is something almost illicit about reading someone's diary - albeit slightly less so when permission is granted via a publishing deal and a bestseller.
So what do we hope to gain from reading them? Insight into the persona? Trashy gossip? A grasp at the wisps of smoke that makes the person intrinsically 'them'?
Probably all of the above. With the exact amount of each ingredient varying from person to person.
Me? These diaries? Probably mainly insight into what drove the artist. What led to projects being taken. What processes went into becoming each character?
Unfortunately, these are not things Alan feels like sharing.
Or if he does, then our guide - the diaries have been edited for our consumption by Alan Taylor - decided we didn't need to know.
What we do get insight into is Alan's lifestyle. The man liked flying, he liked eating, and he liked - mostly - good nights with good friends.
In many ways, he just enjoyed the life he was fortunate enough to live.
And who can blame him?
What also comes across is how little he actually liked the work that paid for his lifestyle.
That's not a criticism. Not all of us a lucky enough to have a job that we love every day. But given the amount of negative emotions Alan pours out on film projects, editing, scripts, some of his fellow professionals, you really have to wonder why he ever became an actor in the first place.
It never sounds like he even remotely enjoys the process.
Or maybe he does, and Mr Taylor again decided that was something we didn't need to know.
Because, with great irony given the headaches editing caused AR, there are huge flaws in the editing of these pages.
Taylor clearly knew Alan. Clearly knew who he was writing about, which projects he was referring to.
Unfortunately, he often forgets that we also need this information - to be given context, shape, the thoughts form.
Initially you find yourself either flicking back to try and be reminded who the hell he's talking about - or, more often, which film project. When the answer isn't forthcoming, you just shrug. You probably just can't find the right reference.
But then the ham-fisted hacking and slashing jumps out of the page.
There is an entry (which, brilliantly, I can't now lay my finger on) where Alan mentions how June was full of medical updates.
Only it wasn't. Just locations, friends and food.
Now, I'm not saying those entries were essential - Taylor's editing, that's his call - but then maybe show us that you are reading your own work by removibg references to things that you don't mention?
Such slapdash work cheapens the overall feel of the book - but brilliantly, through it all, the enigma of Rickman remains.
So what do we hope to gain from reading them? Insight into the persona? Trashy gossip? A grasp at the wisps of smoke that makes the person intrinsically 'them'?
Probably all of the above. With the exact amount of each ingredient varying from person to person.
Me? These diaries? Probably mainly insight into what drove the artist. What led to projects being taken. What processes went into becoming each character?
Unfortunately, these are not things Alan feels like sharing.
Or if he does, then our guide - the diaries have been edited for our consumption by Alan Taylor - decided we didn't need to know.
What we do get insight into is Alan's lifestyle. The man liked flying, he liked eating, and he liked - mostly - good nights with good friends.
In many ways, he just enjoyed the life he was fortunate enough to live.
And who can blame him?
What also comes across is how little he actually liked the work that paid for his lifestyle.
That's not a criticism. Not all of us a lucky enough to have a job that we love every day. But given the amount of negative emotions Alan pours out on film projects, editing, scripts, some of his fellow professionals, you really have to wonder why he ever became an actor in the first place.
It never sounds like he even remotely enjoys the process.
Or maybe he does, and Mr Taylor again decided that was something we didn't need to know.
Because, with great irony given the headaches editing caused AR, there are huge flaws in the editing of these pages.
Taylor clearly knew Alan. Clearly knew who he was writing about, which projects he was referring to.
Unfortunately, he often forgets that we also need this information - to be given context, shape, the thoughts form.
Initially you find yourself either flicking back to try and be reminded who the hell he's talking about - or, more often, which film project. When the answer isn't forthcoming, you just shrug. You probably just can't find the right reference.
But then the ham-fisted hacking and slashing jumps out of the page.
There is an entry (which, brilliantly, I can't now lay my finger on) where Alan mentions how June was full of medical updates.
Only it wasn't. Just locations, friends and food.
Now, I'm not saying those entries were essential - Taylor's editing, that's his call - but then maybe show us that you are reading your own work by removibg references to things that you don't mention?
Such slapdash work cheapens the overall feel of the book - but brilliantly, through it all, the enigma of Rickman remains.