"Down and Dirty Pictures" is not a story of filmmakers: Steven Soderbergh, Quentin Tarantino, Allison Anders, Kevin Smith, David O. Russell, Merchant-Ivory, Todd Haynes, Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, and scores of others do make appearances in the book, but mainly as exchangeable punching bags at the receiving end of Harvey's wrath or questionable business ethics -- before they get to fire back by providing Biskind with pithy quotes. A sample, courtesy of Spike Lee: "[Harvey is] a fat rat bastard."
As intriguing, in a train-wreck way, some of the anecdotes are, the blow-by-blow of every deal gone sour or wunderkind director spurned can get tiresome. But the book's overall point is worth being made: indie film's success was also its downfall because when there's money to be made, corporate America is bound to move in and skim off the cream. As Miramax was brought into the Disney empire, it moved further and further away from the edgy pictures that made its reputation and began producing its own version of studio schlock: "Chocolat" and "Cold Mountain" instead of "Kids" and "Dogma." In the meantime, studio "specialty" divisions like Fox Searchlight and Sony Pictures Classics moved in and claimed part of the pie. Many of the auteurs who got the business started, such as Victor Nunez, were left in the dust.
To movie lovers, the insight into the less-than-pretty business end of film can be sobering. Sure, box office scores are now diligently reported every Monday, as if they ever had anything to do with quality (they're just easier to write about), and I do feel that a better understanding of the considerations that go into the way films are made and sold is worthwhile for anybody who goes to see them. But when it comes right down to it, I'd rather spend my time at the movies.
