Foxy

February 1, 2010
In this prickly autobiography, the iconic actress is almost as hard-nosed toward lovers as her filmic alter -ego was toward enemies. Grier recalls a flamboyant career, from B-movie starlet in Women in Cages
through blaxploitation diva in Foxy Brown
to Tarantino muse in Jackie Brown
, all of it shaped by a rigorous Stanislavskian method. (Her self-transformation into a strung-out killer prostitute for an audition almost got her arrested by the NYPD.) Grier nods to the feminist and black power movements that inspired her screen persona as a glamorous badass shotgunning a white and/or male power structure—Hollywood's answer to Angela Davis—while distancing herself from the myth: deep down she's a Colorado farm girl, scarred by two rapes, who loves horses. But there's a resemblance to her onscreen persona in her tough, wary attitude toward domineering boyfriends like Kareem Abdul Jabbar, who futilely tried to convert her into a submissive Muslim wife, and comedian Freddie Prinze, whose suicide garners less space and pathos than does the death of her dog. “What harm would it do to say yes and keep on watching his behavior?” she strategizes when a suitor presents an engagement ring.

February 15, 2010
Screen goddess Grier reflects on her life as an Army brat and showbiz icon, to middling effect.

The author recounts her rural, peripatetic childhood, marred by two horrific rapes and her parents' divorce, in clear, lucid prose that promises compelling anecdotes and insights regarding her career as a cult"blaxploitation" movie icon. Unfortunately, Grier glosses over the productions of such deathless classics as Coffy, Foxy Brown and The Big Doll House, offering only perfunctory, generic observations about the films and milieu that made her a household name. Instead, the author concentrates on her personal relationships—engaging stuff when the memories involve the likes of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Richard Pryor, and Freddie Prinze, less so when she laments her breakups with"civilians" and problems with various family members. Grier has had her share of bad luck with men, including Abdul-Jabbar's increasing dedication to Islam and embracing of anti-woman conventions, which ended a long and previously fulfilling union, while Pryor and Prinze flamboyantly self-destructed with drugs. Grier also survived a serious bout with cancer, and has much to say on the subject of racism in America, sadly none of it particularly interesting. The author's reluctance to delve deeply into her acting work becomes increasingly frustrating as the memoir plods on. She briefly discusses Quentin Tarantino's rehearsal-heavy technique while discussing her late-career triumph Jackie Brown, fleetingly mentioning co-star Robert Forster, with whom she created one of modern cinema's most affecting and charming later-in-life romances. On her Showtime series The L Word, Grier deigns only to remark on the importance of the subject matter and how terrific and supportive the cast was. She also describes a wig worn on the show as"The Beast," endowing it with more personality than any of the members of that wonderfully supportive cast.

Grier's iconic force fails to translate to the page—a disappointment for fans of her unforgettable performances and reign as the queen of blaxploitation.

(COPYRIGHT (2010) KIRKUS REVIEWS/NIELSEN BUSINESS MEDIA, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.)

February 15, 2010
Grier's short memoir introduces her as a person rather than focusing on her professional film, TV, and singing career. In "Act One," she retraces her early life as she survived personal trauma, reaped the benefits of a stellar British education, and developed a fascination with the film industry. Next, Grier shares the turmoil of her serious relationships with Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Freddie Prinze, and Richard Pryor; her independence and self-preservation instincts kept her focused but were also a source of friction in her love life. "Act Three" reveals Grier's life-threatening battle with cancer and acknowledges her camaraderie with "The L Word" cast. Suggested companion reading: Mia Mask's "Divas on Screen: Black Women in American Film", Stephane Dunn's ""Baad Bitches" & Sassy Supermamas", and any of the myriad books on blaxploitation cinema. VERDICT Grier's memoir relies heavily on how women's liberation played an important role in every aspect of her life, almost to the point of preachiness. But the style doesn't deter the reader from enjoying a good memoir that is guaranteed to surprise. Strongly recommended.Richard A. Dickey, Washington, DC

Copyright 2010 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

February 1, 2010
As the queen of the 1970s blaxploitation movies, Grier stands assured that her as-told-to autobiography will be welcomed by film-studies collections high and low. Iconic for her roles in such gems of the genre as Coffy and Foxy Brown, Grier has also appeared in mainstream films, the likes of Fort Apache the Bronx and Mars Attacks. Her blaxploitation efforts were made on shoestring budgets without much time for rehearsal or nuance, but when given a much meatier rolethe title character in Quentin Tarantinos Jackie Brownshe turned in a spectacular performance (unfortunately, that excellent film was overlooked in the wake of Tarantinos signature work, Pulp Fiction). Grier describes making the low-budget films, in which she often portrayed a tough but beautiful woman involved in a ludicrous plot, and also such noncommercial events as her 1974 night out with John Lennon, Harry Nilsson, and Peter Lawford, during which she was ejected from the Troubadour, an in spot at the time, though at least in the company of pop-culture royalty.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2010, American Library Association.)