You could tell Elaine Stritch was full of herself in At Liberty, her one-woman show that was a must-see when the Broadway legend and champion Sondheim interpreter was just barely in her semi-sober prime. She literally commanded the stage in her white shirt, black tights and heels, a look that accentuated her still shapely legs while her fans and people who wanted to see what all the fuss was about applauded as if her "special" (and only) Tony-winning performance were the second coming. Although I enjoyed her shtick--shaped by New Yorker writer John Lahr, who had to sue her to get paid--as much as anybody else, Stritch seemed like the kind of person who sucked all the air out of the room.
Alexandra Jacobs, whose skill at reviewing books made me want to read this one, pretty much confirms the worst. Stritch's drinking, greed, sexual confusion and insatiable ego compete with her talent for center stage, but no psychological probing unlocks the secrets that might explain her awful behavior. A few friends--Liz Smith, the lesbian gossip columnist among them--try to pin it on "insecurity" but hasn't that always been the midwife to a performing career? It doesn't address the level of neediness that resulted in Stritch compulsively trying to steal scenes, her most unforgivable trait IMHO.
"All About Her" would have been a more accurate title for this skin-deep biography. If you want to remain (or become) a fan, stick to YouTube instead.
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