David Mamet’s series of essays published together in Bambi vs. Godzilla: On the Nature, Purpose, and Practice of the Movie Business take the reader from the screenplay to the final cut. Being a veteran screenwriter, director, and producer, Mamet is more than qualified to poke fun at the intricacies of Hollywood. He upholds the good and tears into the bad, but all the while never forgetting that movie-making is just a business of entertainment.
Many themes that come up in Bambi vs. Godzilla have been told time and time again: the egotistical big-name star, the hard-working and passionate crew, and the cutthroat producers all get their own chapters. Although they are cliché, Mamet manages to make the themes real by combining cynicism and compassion to drive the argument past the formulaic. He makes the reader see through the stereotypical complaints of the movie industry to the real face of the business—the fact that the two are the same is moot.
He makes his passion for films clear and invites the reader to share in it, even when he’s writing about uninteresting topics. Throughout Bambi vs. Godzilla, Mamet expertly and affectionately explains how he can stay writing for an industry that’s so hostile to its writers and crew members. In no essay does he outright proclaim his love of film, but each paragraph is filled with such zeal it cannot be denied. Sure, he’s been the director of a few films, but he claims it’s only so his screenplays aren’t edited to extinction.
Bambi vs. Godzilla seems to be written for the crowd actively engaging to work in the film industry, specifically as a screenwriter. While the essays describing how to write great screenplays, the techniques involved in the audition and approaches to filming would be especially interesting to the enthusiastic film student, they don’t hold much significance to the casual moviegoer. A good portion of the essays, however, will keep every fan of the silver screen turning the page. Particularly of interest was one essay explaining the role of the intended audience in filmmaking, with an extended metaphor involving duck hunting.
Another testament to Mamet’s passion for film is his extensive knowledge of movies. Bambi vs. Godzilla contains many references to films from the most recent blockbusters to the most obscure independent film. Mamet writes of the films as if the reader has seen each multiple times and has been able to remember the subtlest of nuances of the movies—which, I’m sure, the author has done himself. It can get frustrating trying to follow his descriptions of a movie which the reader has not seen, but he supplements this by supplying an appendix with short descriptions of all the films referenced in the book (188 movies and short films in all).
Mamet’s writing style isn’t the easiest to get through. He routinely crams his sentences full of commas and uncommon vocabulary. Before the end of the first essay readers will be thrust back into the confusion of the SATs; before long he even tosses in the French language for some added fun. Sometimes sentences had to be reread with scrutiny to find the meaning, greatly reducing the flow of the author’s work. In one essay, Mamet explains how simple sentences are the key to good storytelling; apparently he doesn’t take his own advice seriously, as long sentences filled with punctuation and tangents fill the book.
Mamet uses Bambi vs. Godzilla as a testament to the movies, but not the movie industry. He routinely lashes out at the industry for profit-mongering and its betrayal of the screenwriter. Although Mamet, wrote his essays before the writers strike, one can feel the hostility between the workers at the bottom of the totem pole and the executives at the top. Mamet’s collection of essays makes for an interesting read that’s filled with popular culture and modern relevance, but it won’t stick with a reader long. Bambi vs. Godzilla has its flaws, but is saved by Mamet’s understanding that its sole purpose, like the movies he makes, is only to entertain.
