"But Enough About Me" by BURT REYNOLDS (Hardback) - A Review of his Autobiography by Mark Barry...

BUT ENOUGH ABOUT ME by BURT REYNOLDS (and Jon Winokur)

"...Rock Out With This Jock Out..."

In a purely academic world, I suppose a snot-nosed celluloid aficionado would probably award Burt Reynold's autobiography "But Enough About Me" four stars - diligently pointing out its philosophical shortcomings and how it simply runs out of name-dropping steam in its final chapters. But I say knob to that - I found "But Enough About Me" five-star entertainment all the way. And I think most anyone who has affection for Burt the Actor and Man (and there's a lot who did and still do) and especially film in the Seventies will dig in and have a hoop and a holler.

In both life and death - Burt Reynolds was BIG. Big smile, big heart, big cheese puff. His undeniably loveable personality comes shining through chapter after chapter (ably co-written with Jon Winokur) - many of which are about his relationships with some seriously famous and admired people – the mighty and generous Spencer Tracy (keep going kid), the slippery but also generous US chat show host Johnny Carson who changed the face of TV entertainment, the sexual chemistry gal Sally Fields that everyone saw Reynolds falling in love with on screen, the dignified black giant Jim Brown whom he counted as a best friend, the no-nonsense actor and director Clint Eastwood still making class films into his late 80s and many other mentors he clearly worshipped.

When Burt likes someone, he pours it on. And if Burt feels he's ever done him or her wrong – he expresses reams of paper hurt and flat out apologises with genuine sincerity. In fact in his later years, regret seemed to play heavily on his mind. You don’t have to read too deep between the open-wound descriptions of lovers and liars to know that he is aware of mistakes-made in his career and personal life – decisions that despite good advice sought – he went ahead with anyway. Reynolds - the most popular film star in the world for five years running in the 1970s - made some absolute howlers that cost him, his wallet and his dignity big time. Burt was a hard man on camera (and in life too) - but in direct contrast to that tough streak which made him a star – Reynolds (by his own admission) was always putty when it came to strong women. This resulted in his disastrous marriage to the bottomless money-pit that was Loni Anderson who legally forced him to sell everything he treasured (film awards, football trophies and even toupees) to keep up her extravagant lifestyle (even his mother nodded NO as he walked to the altar). And yet you can't help loving the guy.

His admiration for stuntmen, risk takers and tough guys in general is almost like that of a breathless child - one suspects because Burt knows what pussies most male leads actually are (some have doubles for opening car doors). It’s a very funny read too. You get recollections about Frank Sinatra's prickly card games (grubby and generous as the mood took him), Jackie Gleeson's inability to speak a word of the script yet still make everyone howl with laughter spouting his different-every-time 'sum-bitch' ad libs (the Smokey & The Bandit film audience loved him to bits even if the studio thought he was all washed up), Lee Marvin's instigated bar fights yet strange aversion to needless violence on-screen, the classy she-ups-everyone's-game-by-just-being-around-them Dinah Shore and the legendary pain-resistant stuntman Hal Needham (who moved into his pool room after a messy divorce and was still there 12 years later). Burt regales the story of how Hal stood in a hospital corridor chatting up a cute nurse literally ignoring a broken back (for the second time). And as they lung/spine puncture him, Needham doesn't blink - but his body does and unfortunately deposits something on the uniformed lovely holding his legs steady that definitely rules out her phone number. These are the kind of Hollywood insider anecdotes that will have you beaming from ear to ear and chuckling in equal measure.

Even towards the end, the famous names just keep coming at you and you begin to wonder was there anyone of substance he 'wasn't' pals with - Farrah Fawcett (blew a date by turning up in a Ferrari he couldn't drive), Goldie Hawn (a jealous husband Kurt Russell wasn’t too enamoured with their friendship), Chris Evert (the World No. 1 tennis player who liked him anyway), Marlon Brando (clocked him as rude and lazy and Burt was none too impressed), Dom DeLuise (Directors would add 2 days to shooting schedules to allow for wasted giggle-time) and even Hollywood uber Royalty like Fred Astaire, John Wayne and Cary Grant (again more great puns and anecdotes). The chapters on his adopted son are lovely too – humane and full of a father's pride. There is also much about his own impenetrable home-from-WW II father (big Burt) who scared the living crap out of most human beings including his son and despite decades of steady stardom-rise found it hard to show affection or pride for his famous boy's obvious achievements. And perhaps most impressive of all is Reynolds' track record when standing up to industry-wide redneck racism with regard to his coloured colleagues – actions and deeds that smack of a fighter and not an appeaser.

Burt Reynolds enjoyed himself, screwed up regularly and probably bedded more women than was humanly good for a chap and his crown jewels. But because of his commercially-successful yet perceived substance-less movie choices and his sometimes overly rampant and naive ego – Reynolds never really got what he craved - recognition from Hollywood – and not just for his huge popularity with the public around the world but for his undoubted screen presence and craft especially when given the right role ("Deliverance", "The Longest Yard", "Sharky's Machine", "Boogie Nights"). He recalls with tangible disgust (and sorrow for his work pals) his notorious appearance as a centerfold in the Cosmopolitan magazine in 1972 (something he thought would be a laugh). Burt knows it subsequently cost him and the "Deliverance" movie dear at the Oscars – visionary Director John Boorman and his fellow actor pals Charles Durning and Jon Voight sticking by him in public, but in private most likely seething at him for such unprofessional self-centeredness.

Already old and visibly frail and yet still prepared to show the truth in his sunken eye sockets - his final film "The Last Movie Star" made in 2018 was brilliant, bare, open, sad and joyful into the bargain. He must have known that the end was nigh and the small but hugely affectionate movie cleverly included CGI scenes with him talking to his younger all-man self in "Deliverance" (sat at one end of a canoe) and smirking womaniser in "Smokey & The Bandit" (passenger seat of the famous Trans Am) - trying to advise the young buck in both instances to listen – to take heed. But of course youth doesn't - and pays the price in life and love.

Burt Reynolds rocked as does his memoirs, and I for one loved every dancing-with-your-tackle-out chapter of it. God Bless You mate wherever you may be and thanks for all the great memories and laughter...