Looking for Lowe

Being handsome in Hollywood,and other things

Most women and some men will pick up Rob Lowes autobiography,Stories I Only Tell My Friends,because the cover is so damn irresistible. Its a sepia mugshot of the ridiculously beautiful actor,his hands shading his eyes from a glare of the Malibu sun or stardom,take your pick. But regret not,the book is actually a very enjoyable read. It reveals a strange anomaly,that actors amazing looking ones,that is can make complex sentences.

Lowe seems to have a vocabulary,a rarity in celebrity autobios. He also has a rare insight into himself,the workings of Hollywood,the trappings of celebrity and a self-deprecating wit thats only endearing. Interestingly,the book isnt ghost-written,the jacket insists.

Lowe had a relatively privileged start in Hollywood. He was a teen sensation at 15,a movie star in another two years,and the founding member of the Brat Pack at 20. Theres little else one can hope for. But the downhill of his 20s,his alcohol- and sex-addiction,and search for dignified work is not the stuff of fairy tales.

The actor grew up in Dayton,Ohio,where he did community theatre. His parents divorced when he was five. Eventually,his mother would remarry and move to Malibu. She would also suffer from bouts of depression. Traumatic childhoods are almost a given with celebrities. Its probably what makes them better actors,or wounded enough to desire the insane amounts of attention stardom brings.

In Malibu,his neighbours and best buds are the Sheens and the Penns. Theres a saying about Hollywood: when you are in the hood,everyone you meet is either a writer or an actor or wants to be one. Lowe runs into several future celebrities,and the memoir often turns into a name-dropping game. He meets curly-haired blonde Sarah Jessica Parker at an audition; the girl he dates happens to be Cary Grants daughter. His mothers new boyfriends family just happens to take him to a smelly warehouse where theyre doing special effects for a weird new film called Star Wars. He meets a pretty girl who says,Hi Im Janet. Im going into music. If my brothers can do it,so can I. Sting invites him over where he meets Pavarotti and Warhol.

Lowe is eloquent in his description of his dreams and anxieties as he auditioned for Francis Ford Coppolas The Outsiders,what he thought would be the luckiest break. He and other Brat Pack pin-ups Matt Dillon,Tom Cruise,Patrick Swayze and Emilio Estevez bonded and fought over different parts. Comparisons and competitions with Cruise run through the book. Lowe almost loves to hate him,especially when he writes of Cruise as robotically intense and cold-bloodedly focused,hes the one who calls his agent when made to share hotel rooms. Swayze is the one who makes Cruise look lobotomised.

The aspirational story of The Outsiders ends tragically,when Lowes character of Sodapop is cut out from most of the film; again he conveys the humiliation viscerally.

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The West Wing tale is superb as well. The superlative script and performances of the mega serial are still in recent public memory. When the cast visits the real White House and meets Bill Clinton and their characters counterparts,Lowe is sweetly startled: the Oval Office has a real ceiling.

There is no room for false modesty Lowe admits that no one would take a boy as pretty as I was seriously.

There are complaints. He is uxorious in his praise for his wife. He hardly spends any time on actor Melissa Gilbert,who was his girlfriend for most of the book. His affair with Princess Stephanie of Monaco is a fun read,even though it ends on a macabre note. But one does wish he spent more time writing about his notorious video.

Lowe never makes it as a big actor and is now involved with politics,production and business his company has purchased Miramax from Disney. The book is then a ready reckoner of how to survive show business.