- guardian.co.uk,
- Monday January 28 2008 12:09 GMT
A surprisingly enjoyable romp through the second most famous publishing hoax of our times (I think the Hitler Diaries, dramatised in Selling Hitler, wins narrowly). Pulling a fast one is an irresistible topic if it's handled right, as proved everywhere from The Sting to David Mamet's oeuvre and this con was a humdinger. Howard Hughes, once a Hollywood insider, was by 1971 an eccentric billionaire holed up with samples of his own piss. He hadn't communicated with the outside world for 15 years. What if he hired a biographer? How would you prove or disprove his claims? With a good script, Lasse Hallstrom, more associated with middlebrow lit adaptations these days, takes up the story and runs with it, utilising Irving's 1981 book about the subterfuge and building expert tension, leavened by nicely comic moments about the bluff and double-bluff that strung along top New York publishers.
The film is denounced by Irving, but that's probably as it should be, and it pulls a few fast ones of its own, as did Orson Welles' playful companion work F for Fake, which included Irving and the latter's mistress, Nina van Pallandt. She is portrayed here by Julie Delpy, as an aspiring actress. In a neat bit of circularity, her resultant notoriety probably helped win her a few decent parts, including one in American Gigolo, starring the young Richard Gere. Gere is always best as devious characters, and plays Irving very well here in an enjoyable double-act with Alfred Molina. This movie concludes with Irving's book fuelling Nixon's paranoia (Nixon's brother is alleged to have taken loans from Hughes) and leading directly to Watergate. It's a nice theory but I don't believe it for a minute. But then, top US publisher McGraw-Hill falling hook, line and sinker for an inventive hoaxer seems to come from the realms of fantasy, too. And that did happen.
