THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY
St. Martin’s, $26.95, 368 pages, illus.
REVIEWED BY CHRISTIAN TOTO
At first blush, William Shatner’s life seems such an open book even the casual “Star Trek” fan could scribble a decent biography of him. Who can’t recite his rise to fame as the captain of the fictional Enterprise all the way to his career redemption in the form of “Boston Legal’s” Denny Crane?
But readers of Mr. Shatner’s “Up Till Now” will discover there’s plenty we still don’t know about the ubiquitous actor.
From his Jewish-Canadian roots to his early struggles to pay the rent, “Up Till Now” offers a fresh peek at the man who would be Capt. James T. Kirk - for a while.
The prolific actor may still work nonstop, but he can’t keep up the confessional pace needed for an autobiography. By the time he recalls how “Star Trek” affected his life, and our culture, it’s clear he’s become uninterested in continuous self-reflection.
Instead, he keeps up the breezy prose, throwing in the occasional anecdote and corny aside to keep our attention. And then there’s the steady stream of plugs. The book’s conversational tone allows Mr. Shatner, the author, to mention his own Web site and various projects he’s completed in recent years.
It might have sounded comical in the planning stages, but it only reinforces what critics once considered the actor’s Achilles’ heel - the shallowness of all things Shatner.
The book’s earliest chapters are the best, if simply because the stories feel heartfelt, the attention to detail is impressive and anyone can relate to the actor’s struggles.
Mr. Shatner begins with a hokey but homespun story of why he wanted to act in the first place. He found himself on stage as a young boy and his simplistic performance brought the house down. That’s all it took, even though his hardworking pappy preferred he take over the family’s clothing business.
He learned his craft on the stage, but quickly found himself smack dab in the middle of television’s Golden Age. He was just right for that era. He worked cheap and was always available, he says.
The early chapters teem with riotous anecdotes, like the time a drunken Lon Chaney Jr. read through his stage directions during a live telecast rather than actually perform them.
Mr. Shatner describes his work ethic in one tight paragraph. It helps explain how he managed to evolve from science fiction icon to afterthought to Emmy winner:
“I’ve subscribed to the notion that work makes more work - the more producers and directors see you work the more chance there is they will offer you more work.”
Having talent helps, too, and the public belatedly acknowledged that Mr. Shatner did, indeed, have a heaping helping of it.
His acting career began with a more earnest approach.
“I couldn’t imagine the audience accepting an actor in a dramatic role after they’d seen him selling cigarettes or laundry detergent,” he writes.
Economics drove his change of heart. He worked constantly, something his father helped instill in him, but Mr. Shatner couldn’t build enough of a nest egg for his own comfort level. It took a science fiction series to alleviate his money woes.
Up until that point in the mid- ’60s, every other project seemed likely to make him a star. But the next television project or film would either collapse or under-perform, leaving him wanting for more work.
Even “Star Trek” kept him employed for only three years, although its afterlife would sustain him for decades.
Trekkers may be surprised at how little time “Up Till Now” devotes to “Star Trek,” and much of it rehashes the show’s obvious impact on popular culture. We could glean that from 100 other books, but what was it like shooting the series? How did it feel emoting with a rubber mask or fake rock?
Mr. Shatner mostly focuses on his co-star Leonard Nimoy’s contractual battles and intermittent alcoholism. The author also shares his disdain for show creator Gene Roddenberry’s niggardly ways. And Mr. Shatner’s terse apology for alienating the “Star Trek” cast members without pointy ears sounds like it was ripped from a publicist’s out box.
“Up Till Now” does deliver a few catty morsels, like when the author calls out Lorne Greene’s acting chops, but he spends too much time and ink on “T.J. Hooker,” the negligible cop series that kept the actor in the public eye.
Mr. Shatner drops his guard, and his folksy humor, to recall the pain surrounding the death of his third wife, Nerine, who drowned in their swimming pool. He prefaces the tragedy with intimate details about her drinking problem and his inability to help her conquer it. It’s a somber chapter, and a rather good one, too. Since much of the book involves product plugs and self-deprecating stabs, the respite and emotional release of these pages yields powerful returns.
With refreshing frankness, the book also addresses his failed attempt to direct a “Star Trek” sequel. Hearing Mr. Shatner recall his original vision for “Star Trek V: The Final Frontier” and how it got sabotaged by studio input and budgetary restraints is a cautionary tale for any wannabe filmmaker.
Mr. Shatner has spent his 70s with a new wife and newfound respect from his peers. “Boston Legal’s” Denny Crane gives him the richest television character since he first pointed a phaser at actors wearing rubber suits. The part even earned him an Emmy award.
A 77-year-old man writing an autobiography with a title that hints his career has plenty more life in it is a gutsy move. But never count out Mr. Shatner, the greatest pop reinventor since Madonna hit the scene. It’s his memoirist skills that could use a little work.
m Christian Toto, who writes frequently on popular culture for The Washington Times, lives in Denver.
Please read our comment policy before commenting.