Gordon Parks, 1912-2006

Gordon Parks died yesterday at the age of 93. Not only as the author of a book on ’70s Hollywood, but simply as a lover of great film, I was familiar with Parks’s movies, but they were only one facet of his amazing talent. He was a photographer, a novelist, a memoirist, a magazine editor, a composer…just about whatever he needed to be to express himself from moment to moment.

After the early cinematic successes of The Learning Tree and Shaft, Parks ended his big-screen directing career in 1976 after Leadbelly, starring Roger E. Mosley as blues pioneer Heddy Ledbetter, flopped with critics and audiences alike. I tried very hard to track down a copy of the film, which doesn’t appear to be available in any video formats, as I was researching my book; I suspect that in many ways it would counter the much more widely-known Bound for Glory biopic of Woody Guthrie and that, like many commercial “failures” from that era, it would have much to offer us upon a second viewing.

8 March 2006 | obituaries |

Marc Weingarten Remembers Jack Dunphy

It somehow seems fitting that this guest essay from Marc Weingarten should run today, as millions of film fans (many of whom may also be literature lovers) prepare themselves for tonight’s Oscars presentation, wondering just how many awards Capote is going to take. Marc is the author of The Gang That Wouldn’t Write Straight, a history of the early years of New Journalism which I’ve heartily enjoyed.

This is a tragic story about what happens when a fine writer’s reputation is obscured by the very public persona of a genius, and how literary fame always trumps solid literary grunt work.

You might have heard of the protagonist, Jack Dunphy, if you have read about the life of his companion of 35 years, Truman Capote. You might have seen Dunphy, or at least tantalizingly fleeting glimpses of him, portrayed by actor Bruce Greenwood in the film Capote. He’s the one who peremptorily slams his study door shut while Capote struggles with the moral dilemmas of In Cold Blood, as if to keep the gathering storm of his partner’s life at bay. But chances are you have not read Dunphy’s books, as they are all out of print.

That’s where the tragic part comes in, because Dunphy was a very skilled and sensitive novelist. Perhaps not a brilliant prose stylist like his partner, but why should a fine novelist be penalized just because he shared his bed with a giant?

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5 March 2006 | guest authors |