I have been reading the new bio of Walsh, entitled Raoul Walsh, The True Adventures of Hollywood's Legendary Director and the writing is merely OK - I am finding all kinds of little errors in it. Nothing big about Walsh, but things that classic movie fans would know about that the author seems not to have misunderstood, like the timing of the production code, for instance. It is mostly a run down of Walsh's films, year by year, the high and low points of his life during those films. The author surmises things about Walsh's personality without really backing up her psychology, but I can buy that he was stunted at the death of his mother and retreated into a world of his own - one of adventure and stories of his own making.
I get no real love for Walsh or his movies in her writing. She doesn't hate him, and makes excuses for him when describing his lack of interest as a husband and father, but I get no sense that she is thrilled by him or angry at his failings or has much feeling one way or another. It would be nice if she seemed more invested in her subject, and had written a more thorough book. I am left with a lot of questions. The book is very broadly drawn, and I am having a hard time since the writing is lackluster. I am about a third of the way in, and have no more real knowledge of Walsh than I did before starting the book. She makes statements that Walsh was best friends with this or that actor or Hollywood personality, and yet, will have never mentioned the person before, nor talk about them after. The only exception so far is with William Randolph Hearst, who was important enough to the author to merit a whole chapter.
She does not talk about Walsh DOING anything, outside of making movies, and visiting his horse farm and the track, which was his second love. There are very few specific happenings or details in the book at all, it is simply stated that he went here or there, was enamored of horses and horse racing, or filmed on location. She rushes over any exciting events, like men being killed on set, or his horse winning a certain race, on the way to describing the films, which if you are a fan, you have already seen. All in all, she manages to make Walsh boring, a feat I never thought I'd see!
As for the films, in one paragraph, she'll knock a movie like Me and My Gal, telling us that Walsh's 1930's films were boring, just a job of work without any distinguishing characteristics, and then on the next page she'll say the opposite, that it was very popular and fast moving, with Walsh's trademarks all over it. There was also a glaring mistake about one of the more popular films (don't ask me what it was, I can't remember even which film it was, and don't want to go back to find it) which led me to think she has only given a cursory watch of Walsh's work. She often brings up the fact that Walsh's most artistic movies, like Evangeline and The Big Trail, were box office duds, and that this is why Walsh gave up the idea of film as an artistic expression of the soul - she suggests that he didn't try for anything except to make a good rollicking action picture, because he got burned on his two big "art" films. I can see this point, but differ with her interpretation of what constitutes artistic. She again talks about Walsh's motivations, but offers little or no evidence of how she knows what he was thinking at the time. I believe she wanted to write her own book, not simply a rehash of Walsh's, but that she did not take the time to find different sources and information.
The bottom line is, I can't really recommend the book - it only comes alive when Walsh himself writes - excerpted from his own autobiography. There are few references in the book to those who knew Walsh, so when we do get a scrap of info from another source it really stands out. He was a marvelous, romantic, down to earth and yet at times, a sweepingly epic writer, as is evidenced by an absolutely beautiful note he wrote to Gloria Swanson, late in life, long after the two had their romance in the late 1920's:
Go spend your money on that instead, even if his own words are expensive. Walsh is worth it.My dear Gloria,
My trip for the festival was worthwhile, just to see you again. My quip I made at the luncheon about you finding the fountain of youth is all too true.
Your lips, your eyes, your hair have been with me for these many years. To me, I can see my lovely Gloria. I will always remember her as a new phenomenon like some April evening, the downy breast of spring. She was like a rippling brook, singing among willows where kingfishers skim.
But now, the sun is going to rest. I can hear the wild ducks flying overhead, and the mountains were drawing themselves off to sleep, and at night fall would be the singing of the crickets. Somewhere, a Mexican is playing a guitar, and somewhere else a dog barked into the stillness of the night. A queer, eerie sound.
Goodnight, my dear one.