More ‘80s film festival, late-August reading, and Wham!

Two big movies, and the novels they came from.

More of my ongoing ‘80s film festival: Heartburn and Postcards from the Edge

This entry of my ongoing ‘80s film festival (previous entries here and here) covers two novel adaptations: Heartburn and Postcards from the Edge. Both movies star Meryl Streep, both directed by Mike Nichols. And both movies’ screenplays were written by their respective novelists.

First, the novels: Nora Ephron’s Heartburn and Carrie Fisher’s Postcards from the Edge are two short autobiographical novels, voicey first-person tales that make comedy out of pain and heartbreak. Both Ephron and Fisher happened to be children of Hollywood (Ephron’s parents were screenwriters, Fisher’s parents were Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher) and both Ephron and Fisher cited Dorothy Parker as an influence (as a child, Ephron met Parker, who knew Ephron’s then-famous parents).

Like Ephron, Heartburn’s main character Rachel Samstat learns that her husband (Carl Bernstein in real life) is having an affair while she’s pregnant with their second child. Some of the references are dated and cringy—but it’s still a very funny novel, skewering the strivers of 1980s DC and NYC, and the era: Pure Nora Ephron. Plus it includes recipes! And Carrie Fisher’s autobiographical Postcards from the Edge follows a Carrie Fisher-like actress through drug rehab, bad romance, trying to start acting again, and her relationship with her famous-actress mother. Postcards doesn’t have much of a plot—like Heartburn, the pleasure is in the voice and the novel’s surprising, funny lines.

Meryl Streep as struggling actress Suzanne Vale and Dennis Quaid as problematic producer/one-night-stand guy in Postcards from the Edge

Now on to the movies. Heartburn (1986) and Postcards (1990: not technically ‘80s but to my mind it belongs with the ‘80s) were big movies with A-list casts. Heartburn has Meryl Streep and Jack Nicholson, with Mike Nichols directing. And Postcards has Meryl Streep, Shirley MacLaine, Dennis Quaid, and Gene Hackman, with Mike Nichols directing. Ephron wrote the Heartburn script, and Fisher wrote the Postcards script.

Meryl Streep and Jack Nicholson in Heartburn. They’re on the Eastern Shuttle (remember that?) from NY to DC….

My verdict after rewatching both movies: they’re kind of mediocre! So how did these two voicey, spiky novels turn into so-so movies?

I have some theories: Lately I’ve been wondering if Mike Nichols was the wrong director for both these movies, and Meryl Streep the wrong actress. After doing a little background reading, I learned that Mike Nichols loved working with Meryl Streep. (Who wouldn’t?) But maybe the two were the right mix for the drama of Silkwood, a few years before, but not so much for the spiky comedy of Heartburn and Postcards? And maybe Mike Nichols was simply too enamored of Meryl’s wonderful Meryl-ness. And that led me to wonder how these movies might have turned out if someone like Susan Seidelman (Desperately Seeking Susan), Sharon Horgan, or even Nora Ephron had directed them. And a side-note: Ephron and Fisher were new to screenwriting, which may have been a factor too.

Or maybe it’s just really difficult for a movie to capture the first-person, voicey essence that a novel can create, no matter who’s acting and directing.

All that said, it’s worth rewatching Postcards for its songs: Shirley Maclaine belts out a showstopping “I’m Still Here,” and Meryl Streep sings a tender “You Don’t Know Me” and a rowdy “I’m Checking Out.” And it’s worth rewatching Heartburn for its ‘80s-era DC and New York settings, and the costumes, and the hairstyles. If you’ve seen these movies (or read the books), let me know what you think!

Mother and daughter, Meryl and Shirley, in Postcards

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End-of-summer reading

All new books this time, and mostly fiction.

After the Funeral, Tessa Hadley. A story collection from one of my favorite writers. Hadley is one of those rare writers who’s both a wonderful novelist and short story writer. She’s had more stories in The New Yorker (30) than any other contemporary writer. She didn’t publish her first work of fiction until her 40s, but she’s been prolific since then!

Do Tell, Lindsay Lynch. Debut novel about gossip columnist Edie O’Dare in mid-20th-century Hollywood.

Landlines, Raynor Winn. So this one’s not out until next week (9/5), but it’s the memoir of a couple’s walk across Scotland and England, dealing with the husband’s illness.

Thicker Than Water, Megan Collins. Collins’ latest twisty domestic-suspense novel has two sisters-in-law grappling with the how their husband/brother came to be charged with a brutal murder.

Somebody’s Fool, Richard Russo. The last in Russo’s trilogy that began with Nobody’s Fool, about Sully Sullivan and his family.

Let me know what you’re reading!

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End-of-summer watching: Wham! documentary

George Michael and Andrew Ridgleey in the Wham! days.

Hear me out: The documentary about the pop duo Wham! (on Netflix) is pretty good! It may resonate the most with those who were teens in the ‘80s; still, it’s a window into a long friendship that early pop success tested, and into that time period. And fascinating to learn about the unlikeliness of George Michael’s stardom, his musicality, and the fact that his own production of “Careless Whisper” (the one you couldn’t escape) was notably better than the version Michael originally recorded with acclaimed producer Jerry Wexler at Muscle Shoals Sound Studio in Alabama.

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