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(WBR) Wayne’s Book Review

This month’s book:

Sonny Boy: A Memoir

By Al Pacino 

Book Overview:

To the wider world, Al Pacino exploded onto the scene like a supernova. He landed his first leading role, in The Panic in Needle Park, in 1971, and by 1975, he had starred in four movies–The Godfather and The Godfather Part II, Serpico, and Dog Day Afternoon–that were not just successes but landmarks in the history of film. Those performances became legendary and changed his life forever. Not since Marlon Brando and James Dean in the late 1950s had an actor landed in the culture with such force.

But Pacino was in his mid-thirties by then, had already lived several lives. A fixture of avant-garde theater in New York, he had led a bohemian existence, working odd jobs to support his craft. He was raised by a fiercely loving but mentally unwell mother and her parents after his father left them when he was young, but in a real sense he was raised by the streets of the South Bronx, and by the troop of buccaneering young friends he ran with, whose spirits never left him. After a teacher recognized his acting promise and pushed him toward New York’s fabled High School of Performing Arts, the die was cast. In good times and bad, in poverty and in wealth and in poverty again, through pain and joy, acting was his lifeline, its community his tribe.

Sonny Boy is the memoir of a man who has nothing left to fear and nothing left to hide. All the great roles, the essential collaborations, and the important relationships are given their full due, as is the vexed marriage between creativity and commerce at the highest levels. The book’s golden thread, however, is the spirit of love and purpose. Love can fail you, and you can be defeated in your ambitions–the same lights that shine bright can also dim. But Al Pacino was lucky enough to fall deeply in love with a craft before he had the foggiest idea of any of its earthly rewards, and he never fell out of love. That has made all the difference.

My take…

I must have been in a mood.

When I started reading Pacino’s personal narrative, I felt it was going to be some self-aggrandizing tale accompanied by the usual “hard times”, redemption, pot marked with aristocratic, flamboyant, holier than thou artiste panache…

Like I said, I was in a mood.

What transpired over the course of the autobiography, was a genuine and relatable life story.  It is tough to put anyone in a “category”, and I would say that Pacino is extremely tough to categorize, but he seems to be a full throttle force, with amazing focus despite possibly being a super high functioning ADHD (I’m no doctor, just a Patio guy), and a genuine love for his craft.  The “ins and outs” the “ups and downs” pre-celebrity life to a man reaching the final curtain call, it was an intriguing take on one’s life, warts and all, and I was a bit melancholic when finished.

On a scale of 1-10, I’d give it 8.