Saturday, 19 January 2019


In Pieces, by Sally Field.

          Actor Sally Field’s memoir is many things:  a chronicle of the Great and the Good (and others) of Hollywood TV, where she achieved teen stardom playing Gidget, motherless, surf-crazy but charming daughter of a widower;  a stark and terrible account of a childhood ruined by a sexually abusive stepfather, and a relentlessly honest, warts-and-all assessment of her relationships – her failures and successes, particularly with her nearest and dearest.
            It cannot be easy to turn the camera on oneself, but Ms Field has ruthlessly done just that, starting with her childhood in the 40’s, where her mother Margaret pursued a minor career in B movies.  Margaret had married soldier Richard Field who was soon shipped off to war;  fortunately he returned to his bride and fathered Ricky and Sally: unfortunately, they were unable to stay married, so  Margaret came home to her widowed Mom:  marriage wasn’t what it was cracked up to be!  She had some success with work in TV and film (good old Mom babysat), and eventually met dreamily handsome Jock O’Mahoney, known as Jocko, another B movie and TV actor – and a stuntman:  how could she resist?  This time, she had found Mr Right.
            But she hadn’t:  Jocko demeaned her son and abused her daughter and Margaret anaesthetised herself with Vodka, the great drowner of sorrows.  When Jocko eventually left (with another woman), Sally became the breadwinner, landing the role of ‘The Flying Nun’, a piece of TV puffery so inane that she was embarrassed to be a part of it – but she was the only earner;  Margaret’s spectacular beauty was wrecked by drink – even B movies were now beyond her reach. So.  Sally was IT.       
            Sally’s role as breadwinner for the family on the odious ‘Flying Nun’ was so crucial that she was driven to Tijuana in Mexico for an illegal and frighteningly dangerous abortion;  as it was, when she did marry and was expecting the birth of her first child, her nun’s habit had to conceal her pregnancy by any means possible:  lugging about piles of books;  carrying enormous vases of flowers, etc, for Sister Bertrille was a Holy child, without sin and blemish:  for her to be and look pregnant was unthinkable!  As anyone would expect. 
In due course Sally Field would get the opportunity to prove that she had the chops to be a serious actor;  she won two Academy awards and several Emmys, a source of enormous satisfaction to her after her start as America’s Queen of Feather-Brained comedy, but her finest achievement in her eyes are her three fine sons – and her talent for writing;  the ability to tell a story, her story, with honesty, grace and humour.  She has come through the fire of her life relatively unscathed and we are privileged to share it.  FIVE STARS

                           Actor Sally Field’s memoir is many things:  a chronicle of the Great and the Good (and others) of Hollywood TV, where she achieved teen stardom playing Gidget, motherless, surf-crazy but charming daughter of a widower;  a stark and terrible account of a childhood ruined by a sexually abusive stepfather, and a relentlessly honest, warts-and-all assessment of her relationships – her failures and successes, particularly with her nearest and dearest.
            It cannot be easy to turn the camera on oneself, but Ms Field has ruthlessly done just that, starting with her childhood in the 40’s, where her mother Margaret pursued a minor career in B movies.  Margaret had married soldier Richard Field who was soon shipped off to war;  fortunately he returned to his bride and fathered Ricky and Sally: unfortunately, they were unable to stay married, so  Margaret came home to her widowed Mom:  marriage wasn’t what it was cracked up to be!  She had some success with work in TV and film (good old Mom babysat), and eventually met dreamily handsome Jock O’Mahoney, known as Jocko, another B movie and TV actor – and a stuntman:  how could she resist?  This time, she had found Mr Right.
            But she hadn’t:  Jocko demeaned her son and abused her daughter and Margaret anaesthetised herself with Vodka, the great drowner of sorrows.  When Jocko eventually left (with another woman), Sally became the breadwinner, landing the role of ‘The Flying Nun’, a piece of TV puffery so inane that she was embarrassed to be a part of it – but she was the only earner;  Margaret’s spectacular beauty was wrecked by drink – even B movies were now beyond her reach. So.  Sally was IT.       
            Sally’s role as breadwinner for the family on the odious ‘Flying Nun’ was so crucial that she was driven to Tijuana in Mexico for an illegal and frighteningly dangerous abortion;  as it was, when she did marry and was expecting the birth of her first child, her nun’s habit had to conceal her pregnancy by any means possible:  lugging about piles of books;  carrying enormous vases of flowers, etc, for Sister Bertrille was a Holy child, without sin and blemish:  for her to be and look pregnant was unthinkable!  As anyone would expect. 
In due course Sally Field would get the opportunity to prove that she had the chops to be a serious actor;  she won two Academy awards and several Emmys, a source of enormous satisfaction to her after her start as America’s Queen of Feather-Brained comedy, but her finest achievement in her eyes are her three fine sons – and her talent for writing;  the ability to tell a story, her story, with honesty, grace and humour.  She has come through the fire of her life relatively unscathed and we are privileged to share it.  FIVE STARS
                 

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