A breezy little volume by an actress facing old age with aplomb.
Now in her late 60s, Keaton, an Academy Award winner in 1977 for her role in Woody Allen’s Annie Hall, sprinkles memories of her long career, including her friendships and more with certain leading men, into a mishmash of thoughts about childhood, beauty and parenting. The author’s attitude toward her own physical flaws—drooping eyes, a less-than-perfect nose, thinning hair—is meant to be reassuring to self-critical female readers. There is a rationale behind the omnipresent hats, tinted glasses and turtlenecks that other women might consider, but Keaton’s message is that everyone should do their own thing. Never married, she is raising two adopted children, now teenagers, who figure prominently in the narrative. Even movie stars, it seems, have ordinary parenting problems and bad days. Woven into the domestic scenes are recollections of film roles and fellow actors. Readers looking for chitchat about celebrities will be gratified; Keaton drops plenty of names, although at times, they seem to be somewhat forcefully injected into her narrative. The author is generous in her comments about others, giving full credit to her longtime friend Allen for launching her career and speaking well of the leading men in her life. For the record, Keaton reports that Warren Beatty, her co-star in Reds, had a pretty face, but Al Pacino, with whom she acted in the Godfather films, had a beautiful one. There are no illustrations; however, Keaton’s eye for detail makes them unnecessary. One caveat: The text is exceedingly brief, an afternoon’s read at best. The type is heavily leaded to fill out the pages, giving the impression that there’s more than is being delivered.
Light entertainment from a witty woman.