6 Book Review May 2017 V I D E O A G E By Leah Hochbaum Rosner Much has been written about Stanley Kubrick — the director of such masterpieces as Dr. Strangelove, A Clockwork Orange, Full Metal Jacket and The Shining—about hismeticulous attention todetail, his obsession with technology, his unhurried approach to making movies, his perfectionism, his reclusiveness, his eccentricity — but little is truly known about the man himself. In Stanley Kubrick and Me: Thirty Years at His Side (Arcade Publishing, 2016, 357 pgs., $27.99), the auteur’s long-time personal assistant Emilio D’Alessandro (along with an assist from co-writer Filippo Ulivieri, a film theory teacher and Italy’s foremost Kubrick expert) aims to change that by painting a vivid picture of a man recognized by all, but only truly known to a few. (The Italian version of the book was released in 2012. It was translated into English by Simon Marsh and rereleased last year.) D’Alessandro, a one-time racecar driver, met the director by chance in the early 1970s while working as a minicab driver in London, where they both lived. Kubrick immediately took a liking to the unassuming Italian immigrant, who after a period of financial hardship, was willing to do anything to stay afloat and support his family. And if that meant working 20-hour days for a creative genius with increasingly strange demands, then so be it. He did a little bit of everything for Kubrick — from ferrying the director about town to shopping for his household to basic plumbing to moving furniture to taking care of scores of animals to scouting locations for movies and so much more. D’Alessandro was so capable and learned so quickly to anticipate the quirky director’s needs that he rapidly became an essential part of Kubrick’s daily life. He proved to be so indispensable to Kubrick that the director repeatedly asked him to uproot his family and move them onto the Kubrick property — to be closer to the action. But D’Alessandro turned him down each and every time, wanting to hold onto a small part of his individuality — even while he spent more and more time catering to Kubrick’s every waking whim. But it wasn’t because Kubrick wasn’t a good man. He was kindhearted and generous —D’Alessandro makes that clear. He cared about his family, his friends and his staff. When D’Alessandro’s son was horribly injured in a car accident and needed to have his leg amputated, Kubrick offered whatever assistance was required. He paid D’Alessandro well, constantly giving him raises when he worried he was working him too hard or too long. He even offered jobs to D’Alessandro’s daughter and cousin, surely helping to propel them forward in their chosen professions. But as the author also makes sure to spell out, Kubrick was one weird dude. One weird dude who would call D’Alessandro at all hours of the day and night for matters ranging from the important to the inane. While he had three daughters with his wife, painter Christiane Kubrick, the director seemed to worry the most about the many, many animals — including dogs, cats, birds, donkeys (yes, donkeys) and other wild animals or strays — that found their way onto his property. “Stanley’s love for animals was limitless, bordering on the preposterous, and was extended unconditionally to all living creatures,” writes D’Alesssandro. “He would even have taken a bee that had hit his head against thewindow to the vet.” When ants invaded the kitchen via a drain, a gardener suggested using insecticide to get rid of them. “‘I don’t want to kill the ants; I just want to get rid of them,’” he told his right-hand man. D’Alessandro suggested pouring boiling water down the drain. And while this seemed to be a more acceptable solution for Kubrick, he still couldn’t stay around to see what became of the insects. “‘I’m going to my office,’” he’s quoted as saying. “‘I don’t even want to watch.’” A larger portion of this book than most readers would expect is devoted to Kubrick’s feline friends, who were so beloved they even had their very own room at Childwickbury, a manor house in Hertfordshire that Kubrick purchased in 1978. When one cat, Victoria, became ill in 1996, Kubrick even sent D’Alessandro to the veterinary clinic with explicit instructions. “‘Go and take some photos of Victoria. I want to see if she’s happy. Take a photo of the plate when they feed her, and one when she’s eating, and another when she’s finished. Keep taking photos for about twenty minutes, and don’t use the flash because it startles her. Keep one at the end for the vet. I want to have a good look at her face.’” And Kubrick’s peculiarities weren’t only reserved for animals. “Stanley absolutely adored string,” writes D’Alessandro. “He used it to tie up just about everything. He couldn’t stand it when objects moved or swayed, so he did everything he could to tie them down: chairs tied to other chairs, filing cabinets tied to each other. Even the plywood panels on top of the cabinets to stop the cats from peeing on them had two holes in each side so that they could be fixed in place with… string. Things like this, which were of no importance to the world in general but were of vital importance to Stanley, justified a phone call during the night or on those rare Sundays off he gave me.” D’Alessandro took to hiding balls of string in random locations throughout the house so that if he had already gone home, he wouldn’t have to return to his place of work in order to locate something as silly as a ball of string. And it wasn’t just string that Kubrick misplaced. “One evening, it must have been at least eleven, I’d just got home when the phone rang. ‘Yes, Stanley…’ It could only have been him at that time of night.” The director couldn’t locate his wedding ring and wanted D’Alessandro—who had only just returned home after a full day of work—to come back “and empty out the vacuum cleaner to see if it’s in there.” Having worked for the man for so long, D’Alessandro knew that it was probably just stuffed deep into one of the pockets of the many-pocketed Full Metal Jackettype military coats Kubrick liked to wear. He instructed the director to slowly go through each and every pocket, positive it would eventually turn up. And sure enough it did. It always did. Each and every time it happened. These sorts of personal anecdotes are golden. They help to create a rich portrait of the intensely private man who helmed such deeply bizarre films as Eyes Wide Shut. They help to humanize a man who came off in the press as enigmatic and a little cold. D’Alessandro seemed to get used to being called at all hours. He didn’t even seem to mind it (although his wife certainly did). He loved Kubrick like one loves an oddball uncle. You humor them when you need to. And you cater to themwhen you need to. And you never take them too seriously. D’Alessandro was absolutely devastated when Kubrick died suddenly shortly after finishingEyes Wide Shut in 1999 (yet, ever the dutiful servant, the first thing he did at hearing the news was to run back to Childwickbury to make sure that the animals were fed, which is what Stanley would have wanted). Duringthe funeral service,D’Alessandrowrites: “I looked at Stanley, but I couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be him. It was the end, the end of everything. He’d left me; he’d left me; he had left me.” Stanley Kubrick and Me is a fascinating look at the life and times of an eccentric man whose filmmaking genius knew no bounds, but who seemed baffled by the normal things in life — how and where to purchase dog food, for example. His assistant, D’Alessandro, was the exact opposite—a thoroughly ordinary man who sheepishly admitted to the director that he didn’t truly understand his films, but who was eager to do all the mundane tasks required of him so that his boss could focus all his energy on creating art that millions of people would cherish. Kubrick may have been weird, but he was wonderful too. D’Alessandro wanted this story told so that the world could get to know the man that he knew. And like him, be better for having known him. Shininga Light on Stanley Kubrick By a Writer in The Driver’s Seat
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy MTI4OTA5