Scrappy Little Nobody

Inside Showbiz

           

Some of our film industry folk are writing their autobiographies, but nobody will call their book Scrappy Little Nobody, because their egos would not allow any self deprecation, while Anna Kendrick seems to have not even a little bit of boastfulness in hers, through self-made star like her has a lot to brag about.

Kendrik may be too young to write a memoir, but her book  is a very funny yet insightful look at American show business, which she observes as an outsider, not an entitled star brat. She is bracingly honest, making herself (and her short physique) the target of her sharp wit.

Kendrik started her acting and singing career as a child, on the stage; her parents and brother ferried her to and fro rehearsals and accompanied her to auditions, but from all accounts stayed low-key and normal, not turning into those caricature pushy stage families. If there is any nastiness or exploitation in her experiences from stage to indie film to mainstream, she keeps the gloom off the pages, choosing instead to focus on the lighter side of her work.

 Like any Bollywood struggler, she packs her bags and moves to where the movie industry is in Los Angeles, and after many failed auditions and near broke status, ends up sharing an apartment with two gay men, in which, surprisingly, she continues to live even after reaching a certain degree of success.

Her experiences at shoots of cash-strapped indie films, her first exposure to a film festival and shooting at bizarre place are hilarious. She just never abandons the breezy tone even when she makes observations about the not to pleasant aspects of working in the movies—the red carpet ordeal, giving dozens of generic interviews, dealing with snooty stylists and the problems of carrying off very high heels with designer gowns. She describes how actresses have to avoid sitting till they reach an awards venue to avoid those crotch-level creases on their gowns.

There is Pitch Perfect, the Twilight series and Up In The Air (that got her an Oscar nomination) on her resume, but she still seems a little baffled by her success, even though she clearly worked hard for it, and did not let rejections get her down. There is heartbreak too—a nit-picky boyfriend, like an old-fashioned MCP dumps her because she initiates sex and seems too eager.

Her memories are, of course, selective, but it is obvious that she wanted to have fun writing the book, and maybe there are no demons to exorcise in her mostly happy life. Not everyone is dragged through muck in the cut-throat world of films; it is good to occasionally see it with a sunny-side-up point of view, which Kendrick keeps up, even though the writing is choppy with a bit too much profanity.

At the end, she even creates her own absurd reading group guide, with questions like: “The book opens with the author’s mother wishing for a few stories in which Anna comes across as thoughtful and/or generous. Did Anna’s mother get her wish? Was there a single story where Anna didn’t seem eminently punchable?” or “Anna makes a lot of bad decisions. Can you think of a time when you’ve made a bad decision? Oh wow, really? We’re gonna pretend you can’t think of a single example? YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME?!”

She never seems even remotely punchable; in fact, if the movie offers ever dry up, she has a back-up career as a bestselling author.

Scrappy Little Nobody

By Anna Kendrick

Publisher: Simon & Schuster

Pages: 304