In 1984, Johnny Weissmuller, Hollywood's greatest Tarzan, passed away. His coffin was lowered into the ground to the recorded sounds of his famous jungle call. Maureen O'Sullivan, his Jane, followed him in 1998. But their co-star Cheeta the chimpanzee, the 'World's Funniest Animal', lives on. At seventy-six, he is by some distance the oldest chimp ever recorded.
Now, in his
In 1984, Johnny Weissmuller, Hollywood's greatest Tarzan, passed away. His coffin was lowered into the ground to the recorded sounds of his famous jungle call. Maureen O'Sullivan, his Jane, followed him in 1998. But their co-star Cheeta the chimpanzee, the 'World's Funniest Animal', lives on. At seventy-six, he is by some distance the oldest chimp ever recorded.
Now, in his own words, Cheeta finally tells his extraordinary story.
Plucked from millions of hopefuls in the jungles of Liberia, Cheeta became an international screen icon from the moment of his debut in 1934's
Tarzan and His Mate
. He went on to star in a further nine Tarzan pictures, and later in
Doctor Dolittle
with the appalling Rex Harrison, before his battles with substance abuse forced him into early retirement. He now lives happily in Palm Springs where he has re-invented himself as a globally acclaimed abstract painter.
We are privileged indeed that such a legendary entertainer should grant us intimate access to the lives of the most glittering stars. Well aware that no animal has ever been successfully sued for libel,
Me Cheeta
is packed with fascinating revelations about a lost Hollywood. Funny, moving and searingly honest, this is the greatest celebrity autobiography of our time.
...more
"Humanity, I salute you!" said he, Cheeta, in his own introductory "Note to the Reader" of this, his autobiography.
He wrote this in 2008 at age 76, after he had long outlived Tarzan (dead in 1984) and Jane (1998).
Whereas humans write their autobiographies to crow about themselves and their accomplishments this chimpanzee--one of the greatest animal actors of all time (think Rin Tin Tin, Lassie and King Kong for competition)--wrote this one to extol humanity, Hollywood, and the actors and actres
"Humanity, I salute you!" said he, Cheeta, in his own introductory "Note to the Reader" of this, his autobiography.
He wrote this in 2008 at age 76, after he had long outlived Tarzan (dead in 1984) and Jane (1998).
Whereas humans write their autobiographies to crow about themselves and their accomplishments this chimpanzee--one of the greatest animal actors of all time (think Rin Tin Tin, Lassie and King Kong for competition)--wrote this one to extol humanity, Hollywood, and the actors and actresses whom he had met from Marlene Dietrich to Sean Penn. This is also about the greatest love of his life--Tarzan--and his tragic pool-to-forest-to-riches-and-to-rags life story.
Yet humanity does not seem to love him back. Many here at goodreads gave this poor ratings, mocking its apemanship, saying that it isn't really funny. How condescending! Just because he's a chimp then he can't do anything in a serious tone anymore? What is comical about Tarzan's first wife, Lupe "Mexican Spitfire" Velez, drowning herself in a toilet bowl? Or about Charlie Chaplin's serial womanizing? Or of Tarzan's many marriages and divorces, his wealth disappearing in a smoke, his great body, in old age and sickness, becoming like a scarecrow with wet towels hanging on it?
The only autobiography written by a chimpanzee, how can this not be amazing? I remember my father and sister enjoying those black-and-white Tarzan reruns on TV. For sentimental reasons, and in kindness to animals, I'm giving this five stars!
...more
A story narrated by an animal is a premise that would probably make most people roll their eyes and groan in horror at the whimsicality of the idea. But if you agree that an outsider’s view is often the most clear-sighted, then surely what could be more ‘outside’ than a narrator who is not even a member of the human race? And indeed Cheeta does bring a fairly Darwinian sensibility to the jungle that was Hollywood in its glamorous heyday. “What does any organism ever do except – survive?” An amus
A story narrated by an animal is a premise that would probably make most people roll their eyes and groan in horror at the whimsicality of the idea. But if you agree that an outsider’s view is often the most clear-sighted, then surely what could be more ‘outside’ than a narrator who is not even a member of the human race? And indeed Cheeta does bring a fairly Darwinian sensibility to the jungle that was Hollywood in its glamorous heyday. “What does any organism ever do except – survive?” An amusing spoof memoir, Me Cheeta contrasts the corruption and sleaze of the dream machine with the innocent fantasy of the Tarzan movie world. Cheeta is fairly sure that he was the main reason why those films were entertaining: Jonny Weissmuller’s physique, perfect as it was, would not suffice to carry the movie, and Cheeta is most uncomplimentary about Maureen O’Sullivan’s thespian qualities, and indeed, her character. The novel throws up some interesting questions: what was that narrative about in those Tarzan films? Anti civilisation, pro primitive, natural man? But primitive, natural man was not allowed to follow any natural instincts, he was given a mate, yes, but there’s not the slightest hint of conjugal relations, and a child can only appear by accident, saved from a plane crash. As paradoxical as the age. In the end the story is curiously moving, Cheeta’s transparent adoration of the alpha male, Weissmuller, is doomed to be thwarted. Cheeta goes through the indignities of ‘substance abuse’ and thankfully, at the end finds someone who’s willing to give him his insulin injections and buy him the paints he needs to do his abstract art. This is probably of more interest to people who at least have a faint touch of the movie buff around them, but provides fodder for the general reader too. And a laugh, can’t be a bad thing.
...more
Yes, this is what the title says. Cheeta, the chimpanzee from the old Tarzan movies, wrote his own autobiography - although it's as much about Johnny Weissmuller as it's about Cheeta.
Cheeta tells his life story from he was a young chimp captured in Africa, his movie career until his time as an old, retired chimp spending his time visiting hospitals and the like.
For me, this was a strange book. I enjoyed the intro note where Cheeta talks about his problems arriving at a title since all the good o
Yes, this is what the title says. Cheeta, the chimpanzee from the old Tarzan movies, wrote his own autobiography - although it's as much about Johnny Weissmuller as it's about Cheeta.
Cheeta tells his life story from he was a young chimp captured in Africa, his movie career until his time as an old, retired chimp spending his time visiting hospitals and the like.
For me, this was a strange book. I enjoyed the intro note where Cheeta talks about his problems arriving at a title since all the good ones was already used and how he finally settled on
Cheeta
inspired by Katherine Hepburn's autobiography
Me: Stories of My Life
.
But then the real book started and throughout it, I had problems with Cheeta's voice. I felt it switched between being naive and sarcastic in a way that just didn't work for me. The book is in some ways written in support of the 'No reel apes' campaign (a campaign trying to stop the use of apes and monkeys in movies). But at the same time, Cheeta did enjoy his movies, the dreams as he calls them, and he enjoyed his cigarettes, drinks and drugs...
No ape, if your campaign has it's way, will ever again have the opportunity to enjoy a career in showbusiness, with all its attendant delights? You're just going to take that hope away from the hundreds of thousands talented young apes who'll suddenly find themselves with no parts whatsoever to go up for? For nine-tenths fo the apes you meet, acting, or the long-term survival strategy of celebrity in general, represents their best chance of an escape from the grind of everyday existence.
(p. 141)
Another example is a time when he's hanging out with Errol Flynn and where Flynn is going to watch a dog fight - and where Cheeta thinks that Flynn wants to stop the fight and save the dogs and we of course knows that Flynn and his friends were the ones making the dogs fight...
I do get that Cheeta is an unreliable author in the way that he views his life and time in showbusiness as mostly good while we as readers are aware that it wasn't good at all because we can read between the lines and therefore see that Cheeta was abused, neglected and mistreated in every way. But his voice just didn't quite work for me.
However, this book still had it's enjoyable passages. I liked reading about Johnny Weissmuller and his relationship with Cheeta as well as all the other Hollywood stars from the 30s and 40s (David Niven, Errol Flynn, John Barrymore, Marlene Dietrich, Maureen O'Sullivan ...), I liked being reminded of the fantastic old Tarzan movies with the one and only true Tarzan, Johnny Weissmuller. And Cheeta's life story is interesting - and interesting enough for me to google a bit after finishing the book.
It turns out that there's not one Cheeta - Cheeta was played by several different chimps and the Cheeta in the book as well is pieced together by several different chimps. I actually believed in there being only one Cheetah and I thought the facts in the book was correct - and now I of course doubt the whole thing... It does seem, however, that the Johnny Weissmuller facts are true and he comes across as a very sympathetic man. And the last time Cheeta and Johnny meet each other is heart breaking and beautiful.
But overall I'd expected more from this book.
...more
I genuinely didn’t know what to expect of this book. It is, after all, the fake memoir of a chimpanzee. But having breezed my way through I think it’s both a spoof of and a tribute to the scandalous ‘reveal-alls’ of Hollywood’s golden age. Cheeta casts his eye across the sordid shenanigans with similes that are sometimes wittily Chandleresque and other times hilariously bitchy.
The strongest portion of the book is when Cheeta is hanging with Johnny Weissmuller in 30’s Hollywood (the beginning and
I genuinely didn’t know what to expect of this book. It is, after all, the fake memoir of a chimpanzee. But having breezed my way through I think it’s both a spoof of and a tribute to the scandalous ‘reveal-alls’ of Hollywood’s golden age. Cheeta casts his eye across the sordid shenanigans with similes that are sometimes wittily Chandleresque and other times hilariously bitchy.
The strongest portion of the book is when Cheeta is hanging with Johnny Weissmuller in 30’s Hollywood (the beginning and ending are dull in comparison with the glorious middle). Johnny is the hero of the tale, but there are also encounters with David Niven, Douglas Fairbanks, Marlene Dietrich and even William Faulkner. Some of the stories and the one-liners are actually laugh out loud funny, all of them are scurrilous. Though it has to be said, Charlie Chaplin and Mickey Rooney emerge particularly badly from the whole affair.
All in all, much better than any book purportedly written by a chimp should be.
...more
Normally, the thought of reading a book told from the point of view of an animal sends me running, and to be very truthful, I probably would have skipped on this one as well had it not been placed on the Booker Prize Longlist this year. What a mistake that would have been -- actually, more of a shame.
Ostensibly written by Cheeta the chimpanzee, bosom companion to Tarzan vis-a-vis the series of movies first produced by MGM then by RKO, the book reads like a Hollywood memoir of debauchery and hed
Normally, the thought of reading a book told from the point of view of an animal sends me running, and to be very truthful, I probably would have skipped on this one as well had it not been placed on the Booker Prize Longlist this year. What a mistake that would have been -- actually, more of a shame.
Ostensibly written by Cheeta the chimpanzee, bosom companion to Tarzan vis-a-vis the series of movies first produced by MGM then by RKO, the book reads like a Hollywood memoir of debauchery and hedonism among the big stars of the 30s 40s and 50s. But there's so much more between the covers than a pseudo-tell all.
Me Cheeta is an ode to Johnny Weissmuller, the best friend Cheeta ever had. It's a look at the downside of the world of stardom and celebrity -- even for animals -- once the box office numbers start falling. It delves into the world of animal cruelty in the name of show business and laboratory research. It's an examination of civilization using the action in the series of Tarzan movies as a starting point. At times it's laugh-out-loud funny, and yet there's a sense of poignancy throughout the book that makes the reader stop and think about the cruelties that humans can inflict upon each other (not to mention animals).
I can't really do this book justice in a short review, but it is one of those stories where after you read it, you'll be thinking about it for a while. Very well written, Me Cheeta is refreshing and fun, and I can definitely very highly recommend it.
...more
This is absolutely a work of fiction, is more sophisticated than it seems, and should not be read at face value. Its basis is a real-life hoax in which a chimpanzee born around 1960 was claimed to be the same chimp who appeared in Johnny Weissmuller's Tarzan movies in the 1930s and 1940s. (The role of 'Cheeta' was actually played by
many individual animals
over the years.) I've read that when this book first came out, it wasn't known that Lever was the author (or, perhaps, that the now old, reti
This is absolutely a work of fiction, is more sophisticated than it seems, and should not be read at face value. Its basis is a real-life hoax in which a chimpanzee born around 1960 was claimed to be the same chimp who appeared in Johnny Weissmuller's Tarzan movies in the 1930s and 1940s. (The role of 'Cheeta' was actually played by
many individual animals
over the years.) I've read that when this book first came out, it wasn't known that Lever was the author (or, perhaps, that the now old, retired 'Cheeta' was a hoax). The book was purported to be that one chimp's actual autobiography, and various famous authors were guessed to be the ghostwriter.
Lever deserves more credit. He's produced a sly and subtle parody of the self-aggrandising, overly confessional Hollywood memoir. Cheeta emerges as a veteran actor determined to defend his onscreen legacy, so there are a lot of funny jokes about Cheeta's brilliant method acting (which we read between the lines as basic chimpish clowning) and his consummate professionalism (he claims it's a mark of his acting genius that the director wanted to record take after take of his scenes). For me the most enjoyable aspect was Cheeta's gossipy war stories about his fellow Golden Age personalities, which comes across as both deeply seductive – he sketches a lost world of oddly childish debauchery under the noses of the studio chiefs, who are likened to alpha chimps leading their troops – and deliciously bitchy, especially in Cheeta's undisguised hatred of Charlie Chaplin and Weissmuller's wife Lupe Vélez.
I've read some reviews in which people were like "I don't understand why these actors and their families didn't sue!" But what part of 'this is a completely fictionalised account by a fictional protagonist' have they missed? Lever gives Cheeta a wonderfully knowing, salty voice and a turn of phrase that occasionally had me laughing out loud. You'll get a lot from this book if you already have some behind-the-scenes knowledge of studio-era Hollywood. But what makes it so accomplished is the way it balances knowingness with innocence, and the constructed with the genuinely heartfelt, in ways that echo intertextually with the story of Tarzan, the story of Hollywood and the story of our weird, destructive anthropomorphism.
Cheeta freely admits he's an unreliable narrator. Through most of the book he ingenuously insists that he loves humankind, is so happy about how much they love animals, is grateful for having been 'rehabilitated' from Africa by the studio system, and thinks of films as 'dreams' and the process of filmmaking as a kind of consensual 'dreaming' that endows the dreamers with souls. I actually really love that last bit, as a metaphor for what movies mean to both those who make them and those who watch them, and the way they reflect and refract our hopes and desires.
But towards the end, the jig is up (and the chimp who originally played Cheeta
was
called Jiggs) – "I was just kidding before … just being a cheeky monkey. Cheeta by name… I do know you're terrible killers. I do know what happened to Kong in the end."
The index in the back of the book shouldn't be skipped, as it's a fun metatextual riff on the way we read celebrity autobiographies. There are even additional jokes, such as "Cheeta; love for, 3–302" (that is, the entire span of the main text), the fact that both Barack Obama and John McCain (the US presidential candidates at the time the book was released) are alleged to have had sexual relationships with Lupe Vélez, and numerous bitchy references to Esther Williams. The joke is that Williams, like anyone who expects to be mentioned in a tell-all autobiography, might flip to the back to look herself up and would find various entries that suggest she defamed Cheeta's beloved Johnny Weissmuller in her own autobiography, and as revenge he has directed all references to Williams deliberately to a single page in which her fondness for sucking cock is mentioned in passing.
But despite all this tricky stuff, this is an affecting love story. Lever beautifully sketches cinema's best-known Tarzan as a manchild whose instinctive, animal joie de vivre made him attractive to everyone, but most of all to the chimp who adored him. Weissmuller's sad fall into alcoholism and poverty, and his unhappy series of marriages, aren't just a classic Hollywood tale of a burnt-out star; the destruction of all that's good and beautiful in Johnny also echoes mankind's destruction of chimpanzees' natural habitat, which Johnny and Cheeta then mimetically 'dream' on set in their Tarzan movies.
Lever shows Cheeta's perception of his different worlds – his wild infancy with its kill-or-be-killed hierarchy, the diegetic world of the Tarzan films, and the offscreen world of Hollywood – blurring and mingling. He describes real-life servants of colour as the native tribesmen whose onscreen village is always trampled by elephants; the franchise's sad decline when it moved from MGM to RKO, and became increasingly domesticated and focused on Tarzan's 'son', is likened to Weissmuller's unhappy offscreen family life.
The final meeting between the aged Cheeta and Weissmuller could have been mawkish, but somehow manages to be elegiac. The book is nostalgic in the word's oldest sense: it captures the ache for a lost home to which we can never return. It suggests everything and everyone we dream and love will inevitably be lost.
...more
A really funny, satirical take on the Hollywood memoir. The novel is written from the point of view of Cheeta, the chimpanzee who starred in ten Tarzan movies during the 1930s and 40s. Cheeta chronicles his journey from the jungles of Liberia to his later life in a Sanctuary for former TV/Movie primates, and everything in between. Though he is, of course, a chimp, the novel is written as though he were a major (human) movie star working during the peak of the Hollywood Studio System, and his det
A really funny, satirical take on the Hollywood memoir. The novel is written from the point of view of Cheeta, the chimpanzee who starred in ten Tarzan movies during the 1930s and 40s. Cheeta chronicles his journey from the jungles of Liberia to his later life in a Sanctuary for former TV/Movie primates, and everything in between. Though he is, of course, a chimp, the novel is written as though he were a major (human) movie star working during the peak of the Hollywood Studio System, and his detailed accounts of the drinking, parties, and general debauchery he and his fellow stars engage in are very entertaining, yet quite insightful. His anecdotes involving such stars as Esther Williams, Joan Crawford, Marlene Dietrich, Charlie Chaplin, and David Niven are oh-so-bitchy but absolutely HILARIOUS, and underneath it all we get a strong sense of the sheer amount of research the author has conducted into the lives of the stars under the Studio System. While laughing at the absurdity of many of the events Cheeta chronicles, we're also hit with the feeling that this account is probably a very accurate reflection of Hollywood lives during that time.
This book is most suited to those who know a lot about the Golden Age of Hollywood and/or are familiar with the usual format of Hollywood autobiographies. I think you'd miss out on a lot of the book's wit and effectiveness if you weren't familiar with the stars of the 40s and 50s, and felt that I would have appreciated this book a lot more had I a) known who Johnny Weissmuller was; b) seen any of the Tarzan movies; or c) read an autobiography of one of the old stars (eg. Kate Hepburn, Errol Flynn).
Nonetheless, the book is beautifully written, extremely funny, very, very clever, and a very entertaining read!
...more
Amazon is being quite slow with uploading my review, so here is the text in it's raw form:
Cheeta, the star of eleven feature films with the best Tarzan there ever will be, Johnny Weissmuller, tells us what it was like in Hollywood during the Golden Age.
While Me Cheeta is hilariously, laugh-out-loud funny in many sequences, there is a serious message under the chuckles; he was removed from his native habitat, along with thousands of other animals over the years, for the sole purpose of entertaini
Amazon is being quite slow with uploading my review, so here is the text in it's raw form:
Cheeta, the star of eleven feature films with the best Tarzan there ever will be, Johnny Weissmuller, tells us what it was like in Hollywood during the Golden Age.
While Me Cheeta is hilariously, laugh-out-loud funny in many sequences, there is a serious message under the chuckles; he was removed from his native habitat, along with thousands of other animals over the years, for the sole purpose of entertaining humans (in a particularly frightening episode, he is almost sent to a lab). He, with tongue firmly in cheek, refers to this as being "rescued," but it's left to the intelligent reader to make the distinction.
Cheeta describes partying with David Niven (or "Niv," as Cheeta calls him), among many others, and has some very sharp barbs for Chaplin, Rooney and Esther Williams. The most touching passages are when he talks about his work and life with Johnny. There is great love there, and the autobiography is as much about Weissmuller as it is about Cheeta.
The conceit of reading a book telling you what Hollywood was like as seen through the eyes of a chimp may be an odd one, but this was a treat from beginning to end. I'm so glad I had the chance to read it.
...more
As much a biography of the life of Johnny Weissmuller (and an insider's look into the escapades of several early film stars) this is a charming, romp in the Hollywood life of Cheeta, the chimpanzee in the Tarzan films of the 30s. This isn't a book for the kiddies, and even though there were times I thought I probably wouldn't give it 5-stars, it came together so nicely, so PERFECTLY in the end. A very good read, highly recommended.
I feel terrible for binning this. It's well written, it's witty, it's a great idea. But there is no narrative progression. Maybe it's just me and biographies/autobiographies but there is absolutely no reason to pick this up and continue reading. I'm half way through and I do enjoy the wisecracking and the style and the made-up stories about david niven and all of the hollywood greats, but they're not real, and there's no reason to carry on. I probably shouldn't give it 3 stars, considering I'm n
I feel terrible for binning this. It's well written, it's witty, it's a great idea. But there is no narrative progression. Maybe it's just me and biographies/autobiographies but there is absolutely no reason to pick this up and continue reading. I'm half way through and I do enjoy the wisecracking and the style and the made-up stories about david niven and all of the hollywood greats, but they're not real, and there's no reason to carry on. I probably shouldn't give it 3 stars, considering I'm not finishing it, but it feels bitchy and undeserved to give it 2 considering IT'S ALL MY FAULT
...more
This was something really different and I was not sure what to expect. What I did get was a book that was very funny, and also crude, lewd and rude.
There are some descriptions of people that hit hard and hold nothing back which makes it entertaining and perhaps scandalous.
Who ever created the idea for this book really hit pay dirt and I hope we are not treated to the lost diaries of Rin Tin Tin or Trigger's life with Roy.
If you want something different to read then I highly recommend the book
This was something really different and I was not sure what to expect. What I did get was a book that was very funny, and also crude, lewd and rude.
There are some descriptions of people that hit hard and hold nothing back which makes it entertaining and perhaps scandalous.
Who ever created the idea for this book really hit pay dirt and I hope we are not treated to the lost diaries of Rin Tin Tin or Trigger's life with Roy.
If you want something different to read then I highly recommend the book.
...more
This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it,
click here.
This is a bit of a spoof biography of Cheeta the chimp - Tarzans Ape chum in the films of Johnny Weissmuller of the old golden age of Hollywood films. I love the 40s, 50s and 60s Hollywood film eras, although Ive not seen any of the Tarzan films so I dont know how much of this is real, how much spoof - although I am suspecting that Cheeta didnt really write this book =). Its quite a good send up of the time and Cheeta really comes across like an ageing Hollywood diva... oh, how he swears sometim
This is a bit of a spoof biography of Cheeta the chimp - Tarzans Ape chum in the films of Johnny Weissmuller of the old golden age of Hollywood films. I love the 40s, 50s and 60s Hollywood film eras, although Ive not seen any of the Tarzan films so I dont know how much of this is real, how much spoof - although I am suspecting that Cheeta didnt really write this book =). Its quite a good send up of the time and Cheeta really comes across like an ageing Hollywood diva... oh, how he swears sometimes, and he can be quite biting in his remarks. He really doesnt like Mickey Rooney or Charlie Chaplin either.
The big thing through out the book is the friendship between Cheeta and Tarzan, on and off stage. Even though there are decades when they dont meet, its heartbreaking when they do meet again one last time at the end. I know it may all be made up... Johnny Weissmuller doesnt seem to have had a lot of luck with the ladies, going through six wives, most of whom seemed to be quite mad, some nearing homicidal.
I know its a spoof, not to be taken seriously etc etc, but some of the comments about animals being "rescued" from the wild, and going into "rehab" (ie cages) did make for a little bit of uncomfortable reading for me at times. I dont like zoos and animals used in films and adverts in that way are depressing, but youve got to keep in mind that these were children of the time. And as Cheeta himself mentions towards the end, he might have been a cheeky monkey on some of the things hes been writing about, so keep that in mind when youre feeling angry.
...more
I picked this book up because in the early 1950’s, after my parents got the 13-inch Hoffman, I used to watch Tarzan movies nearly every Saturday, brought to you by Buster Brown shoes. Cheeta was my favorite animal actor, even ahead of Rin Tin Tin. Me Cheeta is an entertaining, tongue-in-cheek autobiography of Cheeta, (an amalgam of chimpanzee stars) written when he was over 75 years old with a great deal of help from his ghost writer, James Lever. Cheeta describes the Hollywood lifestyle from th
I picked this book up because in the early 1950’s, after my parents got the 13-inch Hoffman, I used to watch Tarzan movies nearly every Saturday, brought to you by Buster Brown shoes. Cheeta was my favorite animal actor, even ahead of Rin Tin Tin. Me Cheeta is an entertaining, tongue-in-cheek autobiography of Cheeta, (an amalgam of chimpanzee stars) written when he was over 75 years old with a great deal of help from his ghost writer, James Lever. Cheeta describes the Hollywood lifestyle from the vantage point of a chimpanzee. The dialog flows with sarcastic humor and well-planned, well thought-out, random digressions tying Cheeta’s background as a star chimpanzee to what was going on in Hollywood. There were many examples of his world point of view. For example, he was plucked from his life in the jungles of Africa as a child. He was shipped to America on a boat in a small cage. Cheeta thought of the little cage as a rehab center where he was prevented from moving around the scary world of the jungle so he could be fed and learn to live a calm life with other docile animals. He paints a picture of the Hollywood swells as airheaded, vacuous, immoral, ego laden buffoons immured in their riches, parties, and fame. Things haven’t changed much, except now the stars are driven to host grand galas almost every month where they show up in limos, decked out in $30,000 gowns to walk down red carpets into magically whimsical ballrooms where they fawn over each other and present each other with fantastical awards for almost everything. Unfortunately, nowadays they also apply their vacuous-ness to politics and social justice. Of course, if they really cared about social justice, they would give all their money to the poor. They would rent Salvation Army rec halls for their monthly, ego-driven award shows and would show up on mass transit, in smart cars, and on bicycles sans red carpets, where they would wear second hand clothes and eat only vegetables thereby saving the poor animals from becoming food and reducing methane greenhouse gases. But what they really want is to remain in their special, royal status while the middleclass is taxed out of existence and forced to live in cubicles (rehab centers?) provided by Agenda 21 sustainable housing developments located near mass transit so they can’t own cars, thus leaving traffic-free freeways for the “beautiful people,” and a world of only rich and poor. Naturally, they figure they, Warren Buffet, George Soros, and certain approved politicians will be the rich. Me Cheeta is a humorous, light-hearted romp through Hollywoodland. Though it is a ruse, I give it five stars for interesting, comic entertainment.
...more
Seven years after its original publication, the first French translation of Me, Cheeta has just been released by Le Nouvel Attila, whose founder has been exploring all kinds of genre literature for the past twenty years. I first heard about it on the French radio programme Mauvais Genres. Little is known about the author, said Francois Angelier, programme creator and presenter. James Lever doesn’t do interviews and his previous works went by rather unnoticed. Actually, Angelier added, rumour has
Seven years after its original publication, the first French translation of Me, Cheeta has just been released by Le Nouvel Attila, whose founder has been exploring all kinds of genre literature for the past twenty years. I first heard about it on the French radio programme Mauvais Genres. Little is known about the author, said Francois Angelier, programme creator and presenter. James Lever doesn’t do interviews and his previous works went by rather unnoticed. Actually, Angelier added, rumour has it that James Lever might just be a pseudonym, that the actual author of Me, Cheeta might be Will Self.
This got my attention. Not that I particularly like Will Self, mind you. There is a difference between being witty and having a point and I sometimes find that Will Self doesn’t understand it. But I was intrigued: what do you get by applying his undeniable talent to a topic like Tarzan? So I bought the book.
A lot of the readers I know research a book and its author before reading it. I don’t. I am under the illusion that this provides me with a more unblemished reading experience. Plus, I cannot resist the challenge: how much can I figure out about a writer based on his or her prose? Here is my guess work about James Lever upon finishing his novel, minutes before googling his name:
“Finished Me, Cheeta. I doubt it is from Will Self. The writing sounds very American, especially the way the metaphors are developed (that passage p.271 where Cheeta refers to pain as “the blue button” (the blue button being Tarzan’s absence) which he carries on pressing: “I was like a chimp working in university failing the cognition test with the electric bolt over and over, just not getting it that the blue button meant pain” and, further down the page: “Because, to be absolutely honest, I didn’t want to move on. I liked the blue button. Even if I could, I’d never stop pressing it”) to the way the core ideas keep popping up at regular intervals, for a reassessment (Maureen / Jane saying “The hurt will die down eventually” and, towards the end, p.301, this conclusion from Cheeta: “Jane’s law? It doesn’t work. The hurt doesn’t die down. It doesn’t have to.” – this is particularly reminiscent of John Irving), the division in 3 parts: the beginning in the jungle, the glory days in Hollywood, then the end years, the ageing and death approaching, that perfectly drawn arc, the world changing, the remarkable balance between action and comments, all these structural elements point to an American school of writing. The tone is however quite personal, constantly funny – with this also very American way of slipping comedy crumbs in the most tragic scenes, keeping the deep sadness but cutting the bitterness – and satirical as only the best satirists like Voltaire can do. For this reason, if I had to guess an author’s name behind James Lever, I would go for James Morrow [...]. In particular, the consistency in which Lever has kept Cheeta’s voice – the voice of a chimp who can think but thinks like a chimp, misinterpreting whole slabs of human society – is a tour de force [...]”
How wrong was I? Let’s run a quick check on the web. Here you go. An interview from August 1st, 2009 for the Guardian by Zoe Williams reveals that not only does James Lever exist but also that she knows him from University, that he is British, lives in Kensal Rise, is – or was – broke and 37 at the time and had been unsuccessfully writing for the past 20 years. Me Cheeta was, however, a command from his publisher, who tied Lever to extremely strict deadlines. Most of his work effort was put in the research. The writing was done in one go and hardly corrected. This makes the result all the more impressive. It can also explain the school book quality of the structure(1).
Steward Homes’s The Nine Lives of Ray The Cat Jones was my novel of the year 2014. So far, Me, Cheeta is my book of the year 2015. Both have this marvellous combination of a flawless style (precise, fast paced, fun, clever, well documented but never pedantic), a historical and cultural background to which I can relate. In both, the narrative point of view is, to say the least, unusual.
The Nine Lives of Ray The Cat Jones is an punk-anarchist, first-person account of the life of a thief who had his hours of fame in the late 20th century. Ray Jones, the narrator, is the opposite of a self-interested criminal. Stealing, he said, is completely acceptable provided that what is taken is taken from people who will not miss it. This, you might say, is nothing but the old Robin Hood tale all over again. However, the novel illustrates it from the insider point of view, giving it an angle that only stories can find.
Enabled with similar qualities, Me, Cheeta challenges what we usually see as an intellectual standpoint, more than a moral one: disbelief in humanity(2). The supposed simian author keeps hammering his love for the human race. “You want to make death disappear from the world!” Cheeta the chimp says to us. “You find shelter for us all, away from the risks and perils of the jungle”. This starts as a satiric joke. It ends up running throughout the whole novel. Always, new situations are interpreted with the same blissfully stupid adoring glance at human beings.
However, as the theme finds its pattern, it twists. At the start of the novel, in the capture scene, Cheeta is running away from a scene of carnage. His whole tribe has been decimated by what he calls “the hostiles” – bar this name, we will know nothing more of them. His mother and his favourite sister have just been killed. Cheeta drags in his wake his brother Cary and his other brother slash archenemy Stroheim. Stroheim catches up with him. Cheeta loses the ensuing fight. Just as he is about to die, the fight is interrupted by (this is Cheeta the chimp, writer of the autobiography, talking) “an ape, white-faced, complexly coated, smiling: […] Tony Gentry (3) [...]” . The same Gentry immediately turns to his assistant and shouts: “‘Got three! [...] Three of them playing together!’”. Sighing, Cheeta-the-author adds: “Thank God for humanity”.
Cheeta takes his raptor for an ape. Gentry takes a fight to death for a game. Two short and funny sentences is all it takes to Lever to tell us this: the misunderstanding between chimp and human is total and mutual. Humans love animals. Animals love humans. Neither of them has the smallest clue about what is going on in the other’s life. Me, Cheeta could have been called Love and Misreading. It could have been a Jane Austin novel or a Hernandez comic.
From there onwards, the theme of the misinterpretation is recurrent: hundreds of animals are captured and shipped back to the US aboard the cargo named Forest Lawn? This is part of a herculean task to rescue the whole animal kingdom from mutual murder. Animals are kept in closed cages? This is part of a rehabilitation programme where, with food and shelter provided, animals are allowed to laze around as long as it takes to bring down their stress level (an awful lot of masturbation is involved at this stage). The seas are overfished? This is in order to make them safer. Through this distorted lens, the human world is reinvented as a Disney-esque theatre. At the centre of its stage, Johnny Weissmuller and Cheeta live the perfect love on a paradisiac set – which Cheeta calls The Dream and which we know as the setting of the early Tarzan movies.
Walking us through all the dirty stories of Hollywood Golden Age, James Lever uses and develops this angle. As he does so, the way Cheeta has to lie to himself to preserve his fiction of a perfect world gets more obvious and the satire more subtle. With Jane entering the scene, things start getting ugly. Soon, we come to realise that Cheeta is no fool. As the chimpanzee stops believing in his own lies, we stop believing in his naivety. What was satire becomes irony. This slow reversal takes us all the way to the final pages. When the extent of Cheeta’s credulity is finally revealed, it is with Lever’s characteristic sobriety, in one anecdotic piece of sentence, between brackets, like a rock dismissively flipped at our face. However, this falling of the mask does not alter Cheeta’s feelings towards humans. “[…] no other species would even have come close to what you’ve done! You’re amazing”. There might still be double meaning in these words. But there is no ambiguity in the declaration that follows: “I love humans […] I’m the one that’s on your side. I’m the one up here trying to be the best damned friend you ever had”.
Does this sound like American blind-bliss optimistic self-patting auto-satisfaction to you? This is one way of seeing it. Another way is to do what I did after reading about James Lever and recognise this as an expression of what British people quintessentially are: paradox lovers, contradiction seekers, and goddamn animal huggers (4).
(1)The interview also goes to show that I am not the only one not doing my homework. Francois Angelier, usually so well documented, should have known better.
(2)And is there anything more British than this form of self-deprecation?
(3)Tony Gentry was a once famous “animal trainer” (Wikipedia’s politically correct version of “animal hunter”) for Hollywood.
(4)I am by no way being dismissive to my dear wife’s fellow countrymen. I love you British people! I’m the one up here trying to be the best damned friend you ever had!
...more
This parody of a celebrity bio was seriously funny, but also about 30 years too late - who gets jokes about David Niven anymore?
Several set pieces set in old Hollywood provide some funny commentary on celebrities of the 30s and 40s. Then there's a running summary/commentary about the Tarzan movies from Cheetah's perspective (Jane is the antagonist). There's also Cheetah's hilarious unexplained hatred of Charlie Chaplin, Mickey Rooney, and (especially) Esther Williams; the Esther Williams thing
This parody of a celebrity bio was seriously funny, but also about 30 years too late - who gets jokes about David Niven anymore?
Several set pieces set in old Hollywood provide some funny commentary on celebrities of the 30s and 40s. Then there's a running summary/commentary about the Tarzan movies from Cheetah's perspective (Jane is the antagonist). There's also Cheetah's hilarious unexplained hatred of Charlie Chaplin, Mickey Rooney, and (especially) Esther Williams; the Esther Williams thing "resolves" in a chapter that is deleted on the advice of legal counsel but there's still a series of hilariously vicious (and again unexplained) entries for her in the index ("nauseatingly self-justifying autobiography of," and "vow of revenge taken by Cheetah against").
My favorite gag was a running joke about the whole 1000 monkeys typing for 1000 years could come up with the Complete Works of Shakespeare (Cheetah's response was something like "Hey, it took 1000 years for millions of humans to come up with one person who wrote the Complete Works of William Shakespeare").
Here's my favorite quote:
"Like what part of 'AAHHEE-EEEE-WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" did he not understand?"
...more
I bought this book as a potential source of some light relief reading, thinking it might amuse me. I was wrong, but initially I was not quite sure why. Eventually it became obvious: I had been expecting a tongue-in-cheek ‘exposé’ by the use of the literary conceit of the perspective of a non-human; instead we are presented with what appears to be a serious ‘memoir’ — Cheeta’s recollections of life in the jungle before capture and the promise of Hollywood; philosophical discussions on various con
I bought this book as a potential source of some light relief reading, thinking it might amuse me. I was wrong, but initially I was not quite sure why. Eventually it became obvious: I had been expecting a tongue-in-cheek ‘exposé’ by the use of the literary conceit of the perspective of a non-human; instead we are presented with what appears to be a serious ‘memoir’ — Cheeta’s recollections of life in the jungle before capture and the promise of Hollywood; philosophical discussions on various concepts (living in cages in Hollywood is better than living in the forest, so long as you don’t mind the ‘training’ with electric prods and learn to appreciate what advantages humans can provide (!); how the best way for animals to be protected is to ensure that
all
of them are put in protective custody (!); complaints against using computer generated images instead of real animals in movies (political correctness gone mad?); etc. There are also sections written in a form of stream of consciousness; passages referring to incipient dementia in the older Cheeta, raising questions as to the accuracy of his so-called ‘recollections’; and so on. The image of Cheeta spending his remaining years planning CDs and perfecting his abstract paintings is slightly amusing.
Overall, Cheeta insists that humans are just wonderful human beings — and he says this so repeatedly that eventually one begins to suspect that there is more irony in his ‘approval’ than real appreciation. He loves exclamation marks. The titles of 14 out of 17 chapters (not including chapter 8 of Part 2 (page 218) which ‘…(had) been removed on legal advice’) all contain exclamation marks. Excessive enthusiasm? Yes. Childish? Yes. Funny? No. When one considers how he deals with humans, one is more inclined to think that there is a strong sense of misanthropy involved. Names, nicknames, place-names etc. are dropped right throughout the book usually with no other references as to who they might be. ‘Dan’ for example, is referred to throughout as his ‘carer’ but that’s it, while descriptions of Dan tend to be rather condescending, and ridicule him as a kind of nerdy momma’s boy… Only Johnny Weissmuller is ‘perfect’ — yet he is also depicted as being rather simple-minded as well. The men in Cheeta’s ‘life’ are basically OK only insofar as they act up in childishly foolish ways, more like immature schoolboys on a lark. Is this a criticism of the lifestyles of some Hollywood people at that time? Or even now? The women in Cheeta’s life fare much worse — in general he does not like them. The Index, on the other hand, verges on the misogynistic (but more on this later).
Despite the ‘seriousness’ of the matters referred to above, it is surprising just how shallow the main text is. It has a certain style, but lacks any substance. Contradictions abound. It is, in short, trashy. Worse, it is not even that funny… There is only one joke (attributed to Red Skelton) in the book that made me smile: “Why did the Mexican push his wife off the cliff?” This question is asked at p. 231. The answer is not immediately provided by Cheeta, who is more concerned to provide his comments on happy/unhappy marriages and the specific details of an ongoing argument between Weissmuller and his (fourth) wife Beryl Scott (who, incidentally does not even get a mention in the Index…) which goes on for about five and a half pages of ruminations including how to survive Beryl, when we are provided at the end of page 236 with a sentence, out of the blue, so to speak, and not related to what went immediately before or immediately after: “The reason the Mexican pushed his wife off the cliff was tequila.”
So what is this all about? After reading the book, I decided to see what if anything was on Wikipedia on the subject “cheeta”, and a great deal was revealed there. Apart from the 15 chimps that may have played the ‘actor’ over the years, it is revealed that sometime in the mid 1990s owner/trainer Tony Gentry perpetrated a hoax claiming that the original Cheeta was still alive; and he presented him at a reception. This was taken up by the media, and generally accepted by many as representing the truth. ‘Cheeta’ was even given an award for his film career by the International Film Festival of Pensacola Comedy! As part of the continuation of this hoax, James Lever was commissioned as ghost-writer for this book, and it even made it onto the long list for the Man Booker Prize in Literature in 2009! So all this is a hoax as well (not so surprising in itself — chimpanzees do not really speak, philosophise, paint, etc., nor do they usually live beyond 45-odd years) but as I have written above, it fails to be charming or insightful or even funny (qualities which might have ‘saved’ the book). Instead it ends up being merely too clever by half. The scene when ‘Cheeta’ is brought to visit the old, practically senile Johnny Weissmuller, is played out in full to elicit an emotional, sentimental response. Johnny (and the reader) is expected to accept that ‘Cheeta’ is one and the same as the original chimpanzee, and that they both recognise and greet each other as long-lost old friends finding one another again in old age — but it came across to me as painfully twee and embarrassing. The whole ‘memoir’ becomes some kind of homoerotic love affair between the two, or at least, from Cheeta’s point of view; and that makes the whole thing kind of weird as well…
When one comes to the Index, then all goes haywire. Under the heading ‘Cheeta’ in the Index there is a reference to “compared unreliability of”. The page reference is to pp 3—302 (in other words to the whole text of the book!) so the Index is telling us that the whole book is unreliable… But then, how reliable is the Index? The ‘Balboa Boy Club’ Index heading referring to p. 150 in the text is not some secret pedophile ring, but turns out to be a typo (deliberate?) for the Balboa Bay club… For Esther Williams, the Index has references to pp. xvi, 197, 210, 204 and 234 where her name appears in the text. The entry then goes on to list 8 sub-headings (egomania of; ingratitude towards Weissmuller, Johnny; invaluable swimming lessons given by Weissmuller, Johnny; malicious gossip about ex-husbands, lovers, colleagues, etc,; nauseatingly self-justifying autobiography of; unsubstantiated libel against Weissmuller, Johnny, in autobiography; vow of vengeance taken by Cheeta; and web reviews of autobiography). All these subheadings are referred at the end to “
see
page 234.” The only reference to Esther Williams at page 234 is in the startling statement: “…[Johnny Weissmuller and (fourth) wife Beryl Scott’s house] the Mansion of Misery gobbled down money as eagerly as Esther Williams did the male sex organ.” (!) OR: does the page 234 reference actually relate to the missing pages of chapter 8, ‘removed on legal advice’ referred to at p. 218?
A similar misogynistic slur against Lupe Vélez (Weissmuller’s third wife) is scattered throughout the Index. On pp 150–151 Cheeta tells the reader that Johnny is having an argument with Lupe about some possible affair she might or might not have been having, and Cheeta goes on to list all the possible names he could think of as to whom the argument was about: he can’t remember, exactly, but mentions a total of 24 men, most of whom he appears to be dismissive of. In the Index, however, we find a strange occurrence: apart from Clark Gable, Douglas Fairbanks Junior, and Bert Lahr (all of whom have Index entries) and Warwick Laverne (who has no Index entry), all remaining twenty names have the subheading ‘sexual relationship with Lupe Vélez’ followed by the appropriate page reference (150 or 151). Even more intriguingly, however, three other names (Charles Laughton, John McCain (!), and Barak Obama (!), all of whom are
not
in the listing on pp 150–151,
are
listed in the Index with references for their subheading ‘sexual relations with Lupe Vélez’ being page 151! We are, of course, in lala land…
So the book is a hoax; the Index tells us it is a hoax; and the Index itself is a hoax, ridiculing both the text and itself, and incidentally the reader who takes any of the book seriously. For me, this is precisely that kind of ‘bad’ postmodern conceit that at heart is nihilistic and self-defeating. The really annoying part is that, in order to criticise its position, one needs to go into some detail and point out the inherent stupidities (and the above comments are only some of the many others that could be made) when everything within me is telling me not to waste my time on this trash! I apologise to my readers for having put you through this long ‘review’. I can only hope that my time has not been wasted, and that it will help others to see through the dangerous, poisonous nihilism books such as this exhibit.
...more
Magnificent. Even for someone who is NOT a big fan of the intelligent/talking apes genre or of sordid Hollywood memoirs, as I am, this is a moving and hilarious book and was even nominated for a Booker Prize, even when the author was identified only as "Cheeta." I was astounded, reading it, just how much they got away with. Not just the man-crush on Johnny Weissmuller that is the book's main narrative thread but all of the other graphic portrayals of stars who are either alive or have living des
Magnificent. Even for someone who is NOT a big fan of the intelligent/talking apes genre or of sordid Hollywood memoirs, as I am, this is a moving and hilarious book and was even nominated for a Booker Prize, even when the author was identified only as "Cheeta." I was astounded, reading it, just how much they got away with. Not just the man-crush on Johnny Weissmuller that is the book's main narrative thread but all of the other graphic portrayals of stars who are either alive or have living descendants in flamboyantly and maybe not entirely fictional sexual and other situations. After some orgies and some chimpanzee coke-snorting off of named startlets' breasts, plus ejaculating all over Jayne Mansfield, it seemed as though the book was gearing up for some actual human-on-chimp or chimp-on-human penetration, and I wondered what it would turn out to be; then, when I got to Chapter 8, there's just a big one-page notice that this chapter has been redacted by the publisher on legal advice. I'm not sure whether there ever was a chapter 8, but now I have to find an original British edition and find out. Later chapters refer to an unfortunate incident with Esther Williams which even Cheeta would rather not discuss, so maybe that's what's in chapter 8. And, hey, maybe they don't actually do the nasty; maybe it's just that Esther Williams's (estate's) lawyers are more litigious than Rex Harrison's or Mia Farrow's or Mickey Rooney's. Did I mention this was nominated for a Booker Prize? This is NOT trash, okay? There is also a mind-bending, thought-provoking take on anthropomorphism and animal rights running through the whole book. Highly recommended.
...more
“The model for Me Cheeta is obviously Lolita. It even rhymes with Lolita.” – James Lever
Me Cheeta is a glorious tell-all tale of the golden age of Hollywood from the perspective of the Tarzan co-star, perhaps the most famous of the Hollywood chimps, Cheeta.
In truth, this smart, witty spoof is the work of novelist James Lever (this is his first published novel). Literary fiction is not as marketable as non-fiction & biography – the publisher stuck with the conceit of this being an autobiograp
“The model for Me Cheeta is obviously Lolita. It even rhymes with Lolita.” – James Lever
Me Cheeta is a glorious tell-all tale of the golden age of Hollywood from the perspective of the Tarzan co-star, perhaps the most famous of the Hollywood chimps, Cheeta.
In truth, this smart, witty spoof is the work of novelist James Lever (this is his first published novel). Literary fiction is not as marketable as non-fiction & biography – the publisher stuck with the conceit of this being an autobiography as long as they could (the copyright info has the author listed as Cheeta & there was much speculation that the actual author was Martin Amis or Will Self, which certainly didn’t hurt book sales). The book even has two sections of photos and an index- the staples of any self-respecting autobiography (make sure to look up “Williams, Esther” in the index for some insight to the redacted chapter 8). But once the novel was selected for The Guardian’s Award for First Time Book longlist, the truth came out – Lever was the ghostwriter of Cheeta’s memoir. Click on Lever’s photo below to read a great interview with him, conducted shortly after he made it onto the Man Booker Prize 2009 longlist.
“One thing that I did right in my twenties was not to write two or three bad novels.” – James Lever
Me Cheeta marked the authors late arrival on the literary scene - Lever was 38 when the book was published. Lever was supposed to be famous much earlier. Zoe Williams writes ” . . . there are people who do seem cast for different things… who genuinely, at 19, look like they’ve arrived before they’ve even set off. Lever was that person.” Reading Williams’s interview with Lever, George Orwell’s character of Gordon Comstock (from Keep the Aspidistra Flying) comes to mind. “It’s time-consuming being poor” says Lever of his 20′s. He had even appeared as a character in a book - his then-girlfriend Antonia Quirke’s memoir, Madame Depardieu and the Beautiful Strangers. This seems fitting somehow. In interviews he seems a character sprung from the pages of a book. And it is definitely from a book I want to read.
...more
I couldn’t believe it when I read a news report not long ago that Cheeta, the chimp in the ‘30s Tarzan movies, was still alive. As Tarzan would say, “Umgawa,” which translate as “let it be so.” And now he’s (Or is Cheeta a she? It’s never clear.) decided to at long last (the real Tarzan, Johnny Weissmuller, died in 1984 and Jane, Maureen O’Sullivan, died in 1998) to tell the story of his rise from African jungles to the most admired and loved Hollywood animal of all time. Let’s face it: Cheeta w
I couldn’t believe it when I read a news report not long ago that Cheeta, the chimp in the ‘30s Tarzan movies, was still alive. As Tarzan would say, “Umgawa,” which translate as “let it be so.” And now he’s (Or is Cheeta a she? It’s never clear.) decided to at long last (the real Tarzan, Johnny Weissmuller, died in 1984 and Jane, Maureen O’Sullivan, died in 1998) to tell the story of his rise from African jungles to the most admired and loved Hollywood animal of all time. Let’s face it: Cheeta was/is even bigger than Rin Tin Tin and Trigger.
In his first foray into authorship, Cheeta has penned a memoir, Me Cheeta: My Life in
Hollywood. Unfortunately, Cheeta needed an editor. In the worse way.
The memoir starts off with a note to the reader from Cheeta, lounging in his chaise lounge in sunny Palm Springs. I should have known from the letter that the sweet and funny chimp I remembered from Saturday afternoons at the movies wasn’t real. Instead, I’m reading about a lecherous, disgusting old animal who likes to smoke, drink, and masturbate. Not necessarily in that order.
The book begins with Cheeta filming his last movie, 1967’s Doctor Doolittle. He’s stuck in a tree thanks to Rex Harrison and his wife. The story then moves to the wild of Africa and Cheeta’s chimphood. This goes on for about half the book. I expected to read about his life “in” Hollywood, not how he got there.
Once Cheeta was discovered and became Tarzan’s best buddy, there is no doubt that Johnny and Cheeta loved each other. There are some cute stories about their escapades.
The biggest problem with Me Cheeta: My Life in Hollywood is that it’s boring. Many times the sentences don’t make sense. I read as far as I could, mostly because I was interested in learning what had happened to Boy (Johnny Sheffield). But alas, Boy was a spoiled, ungrateful child. The two despised each other.
Today, Cheeta lives with his handler, Don, and paints pictures that to me all look the same. But as Tarzan would say, “Umgawa.”
Review originally appeared on
www.armchairinterviews.com
...more
Its been said already but, again, Me Cheeta was not what I expected from a book 'written' by a chimp. 'Me Cheeta' is not at all the cheesy mock-biography, rather, it reads more like a simian-authored version of a gossip magazine. Snorting cocaine with a Highball in one hand and the occasional sexy romp, Cheeta lives the high life as much as any of the movie stars. Funny in parts, quite moving in others, it will probably keep you entertained for a while.
That being said, this is a very confused b
Its been said already but, again, Me Cheeta was not what I expected from a book 'written' by a chimp. 'Me Cheeta' is not at all the cheesy mock-biography, rather, it reads more like a simian-authored version of a gossip magazine. Snorting cocaine with a Highball in one hand and the occasional sexy romp, Cheeta lives the high life as much as any of the movie stars. Funny in parts, quite moving in others, it will probably keep you entertained for a while.
That being said, this is a very confused book. Often I found myself lost in the narrative, not knowing whether we were on set in the jungle or not, losing the relevance of whole pages. The writing is good but, really, it is only so long before you start getting a bit bored about hearing what a drunk David Niven was or how all of Weismuller’s wives are horrible creatures. And that is pretty much all that happens. Yes, the satire is good but even that doesn’t profit to its full extent without a decent plot line. Oh, what a good editor could have done.
All in all, I felt Cheeta relied far too much on the crudeness of sex, drink and bad language to keep me entertained. Glad to have read it but probably not one to recommend. Umgawa.
...more
This book was something of a word-of-mouth hit, a spoof autobiography by the chimp which played Cheeta in the Tarzan films of the Thirties, and was recommended to me by my husband. It sat on my to-read shelf for a long time, until I had a tired day when I needed something easy to read.
It had me laughing right from page 1. “Dearest humans, So, it’s the perfect day in Palm Springs, California, and here I am – actor, artist, African, American, ape and now author – flat out on the lounger by the po
This book was something of a word-of-mouth hit, a spoof autobiography by the chimp which played Cheeta in the Tarzan films of the Thirties, and was recommended to me by my husband. It sat on my to-read shelf for a long time, until I had a tired day when I needed something easy to read.
It had me laughing right from page 1. “Dearest humans, So, it’s the perfect day in Palm Springs, California, and here I am – actor, artist, African, American, ape and now author – flat out on the lounger by the pool, looking back over this autobiography of mine. Flipping through it more than reading it, to be honest…”
Okay, the laughs don’t come every page, and the section where Cheeta journeys from Africa to New York then Hollywood could perhaps have been shorter. But it made me laugh. The portrayal of some Hollywood stars is wicked, and there are very familiar names: Flynn, Niven, Dietrich, Rooney, Sanders, Chaplin, the Barrymores, and of course Johnny. Johnny Weissmuller.
At times, I forgot it was a spoof, so delicious were the laughs. “It would be true to say that I spent at least sixty-five per cent of 1935 masturbating in a cage. But, you know, a cage is a cage is a cage, as Gertrude Stein might have said.”
...more
Olipa urakka. Tämän piti olla lukupiirimme ohjelmassa jo kuukausia sitten, mutta totesimme kirjan olevan sen verran kehno, että vaihdoimme vetävämpään opukseen. Koska minä ehdotin tätä luettavaksi, ajattelin kantaa vastuuni ja urakoida kirjan loppuun asti. Kannattiko? Jaa-a.
Hyvää kirjassa oli lähtökohta: Tarzan-elokuvien simpanssin näkökulmasta kirjoitettu omaelämäkerta. Ja satiirinen ote oli kivan terävä. Ja Cheetan läheinen suhde merkittävimpään vastanäyttelijään Weissmulleriin on kuvattu aika
Olipa urakka. Tämän piti olla lukupiirimme ohjelmassa jo kuukausia sitten, mutta totesimme kirjan olevan sen verran kehno, että vaihdoimme vetävämpään opukseen. Koska minä ehdotin tätä luettavaksi, ajattelin kantaa vastuuni ja urakoida kirjan loppuun asti. Kannattiko? Jaa-a.
Hyvää kirjassa oli lähtökohta: Tarzan-elokuvien simpanssin näkökulmasta kirjoitettu omaelämäkerta. Ja satiirinen ote oli kivan terävä. Ja Cheetan läheinen suhde merkittävimpään vastanäyttelijään Weissmulleriin on kuvattu aika koskettavasti, vaikka onkin tietysti myös satiiria.
Mutta teoksesta nauttisi enemmän, jos tuon aikakauden Hollywood-porukka olisi tutumpaa, sillä kirjassa on hurja määrä nimiä ja henkilöihin viitataan hyvin ohimennen, usein kärkevästi. Vitsit eivät kuitenkaan aukea, kun konteksti ei ole tiedossa.
Loppujen lopuksi koko näkökulmajuttu kaatuu epäloogisuuksiin: Cheetan ymmärrys ja käsityskyky heittelehtii niin, että jutusta putoaa pohja. Ja ennen muuta kirja on kaikenkaikkiaan huonosti kirjoitettu.
...more
Difficult not to have been exposed to the early hype for this book. To be fair, it sounded as though a clever idea had been carried through triumphantly. Not so - as revealed by a couple of days labouring with increasingly heavy heart through the first two hundred pages.
Basically, the author can't make the premise work. On the one hand Cheeta portrays himself as an intruder from the animal kingdom variably bewildered by human behaviour, and even more by artefacts (a strange bite-resistant wrist
Difficult not to have been exposed to the early hype for this book. To be fair, it sounded as though a clever idea had been carried through triumphantly. Not so - as revealed by a couple of days labouring with increasingly heavy heart through the first two hundred pages.
Basically, the author can't make the premise work. On the one hand Cheeta portrays himself as an intruder from the animal kingdom variably bewildered by human behaviour, and even more by artefacts (a strange bite-resistant wrist covering proves to be a watch strap), while on the other he delivers psychological analyses of mother-loss, sensory deprivation, sexual addiciton, Johnny Weissmuller's serial marriage failures and the like, not to mention searing condemnation of Hollywood's star system. Cheeta wants to have his banana and not eat it. Occasionally, the laughs are to be found, but to enjoy them the reader has to struggle through turgid accounts of the plots of ancient Tarzan films in order to validate Cheeta's career in movies.
The truth seems to be that Lames Lever, having mugged up on the tabloid coverage of the film industry's sex and drugs scandals of the 1930's, couldn't simply recycle them (some protagonists still alive and smart enough to employ libel lawyers, others so long forgotten their names would mean little to anyone who started going to the cinema during the last half century). Plus there seems to have been a desire to denigrate Charlie Chaplin and Mickey Rooney in particular.
At some point the brilliant idea of an ape autobiography occurred. But brilliant ideas need brilliant fulfilment. Me Cheeta is not an example.
...more
I only became aware of this scurrilous autobiography when it was long listed for the 2009 Man Booker Prize. Cheeta was an extraordinarily talented chimpanzee – actor, artist and now author. He lived and worked through the golden years of Hollywood, and this book is filled with stories from that era. Who could have guessed that so many stars behaved so badly? If only that one key chapter had not been deleted on legal advice, I suspect I would have learnt even more!
But this book is much more than
I only became aware of this scurrilous autobiography when it was long listed for the 2009 Man Booker Prize. Cheeta was an extraordinarily talented chimpanzee – actor, artist and now author. He lived and worked through the golden years of Hollywood, and this book is filled with stories from that era. Who could have guessed that so many stars behaved so badly? If only that one key chapter had not been deleted on legal advice, I suspect I would have learnt even more!
But this book is much more than a News of the World-style expose. It is a book about how humans treat animals (and each other), a book about how Hollywood treats its stars, and ultimately it is a rather moving love story - the story of one ape’s love for his co-star. So stick with Me Cheeta, and while initially it will amuse you, ultimately it will surprise. Will it win the Booker Prize? – no, but it may well stick in the memory more than many of the other long listed books
...more
What a brilliant concept. Very, very funny. A satire that pokes fun at celebrity culture, Hollywood, autobiographies, and the ethics of keeping apes as pets. An absolute delight to read. Did I say it's very funny? It is an astounding piece of imagination. Perhaps the best thing is the attention to detail. James Lever must have read hundreds of celeb autobiographies to create this book. I don't envy him, but I'm very grateful that he did.
If I could give this three and a half stars, I would. This autobiography from the point of view of a chimpanzee during Hollywood's golden age is very clever and pointed, but unfortunately the pickings are a little too slim during the second half.
The horrendous treatment of animals in Hollywood is made even more pointed by Cheeta's disingenuous narrative (animals are "rescued" from the jungle and brought to the USA for "rehabilitation" in cages - but it takes him a while to figure out where the a
If I could give this three and a half stars, I would. This autobiography from the point of view of a chimpanzee during Hollywood's golden age is very clever and pointed, but unfortunately the pickings are a little too slim during the second half.
The horrendous treatment of animals in Hollywood is made even more pointed by Cheeta's disingenuous narrative (animals are "rescued" from the jungle and brought to the USA for "rehabilitation" in cages - but it takes him a while to figure out where the animals who don't make it into films end up). But as the narrative descends into a chaotic look at the lives of Hollywood stars, it starts to feel a bit thin on the ground.
The novel is part loveletter to Johnny Weissmuller, and in this it really does succeed. Through Cheeta's love, Weismuller is depicted movingly as a simple soul adrift in the Hollywood sleaze.
...more
Thought I'd enjoy this a lot more than I did. The joke wore thin very quickly, and the scurrilous Gossip Babylon stuff was laid on so thick, it lost any shock impact it might have had. Hence my reading of it really dragged.
On the plus side, Cheeta's relationship with Johnny was much more subtly and affectingly dealt with, and I found it genuinely poignant. I also closed the book with a real hankering to watch some of those old Weissmuller/O'Sullivan Tarzan pictures; can't remember any of 'em eve
Thought I'd enjoy this a lot more than I did. The joke wore thin very quickly, and the scurrilous Gossip Babylon stuff was laid on so thick, it lost any shock impact it might have had. Hence my reading of it really dragged.
On the plus side, Cheeta's relationship with Johnny was much more subtly and affectingly dealt with, and I found it genuinely poignant. I also closed the book with a real hankering to watch some of those old Weissmuller/O'Sullivan Tarzan pictures; can't remember any of 'em ever coming up on TV. Stupid TV.
...more
If you are amused by a chimpanzee using four letter words and stiffing cocaine off the breasts of Constance Bennett, you will be amused by this book. If you find this puerile and object to defaming people too dead to sue the author, then you are a lot like me. This is book is not fun, not funny, and is morally questionable.
A cleverly constructed mock autobiography. I very much enjoyed the Tarzan films as a small kid, with Cheeta's performances always a highlight. Of course time and improved morals have now highlighted the inhumane nature of using animals in films and it's one thing we can't quite believe people did a few years ago, a bit like the Black and White Minstrel Show - unless your are an antiquated Strictly Come Dancing presenter of course.
This book reminded me of Glen Duncan's excellent "I, Lucifer" in t
A cleverly constructed mock autobiography. I very much enjoyed the Tarzan films as a small kid, with Cheeta's performances always a highlight. Of course time and improved morals have now highlighted the inhumane nature of using animals in films and it's one thing we can't quite believe people did a few years ago, a bit like the Black and White Minstrel Show - unless your are an antiquated Strictly Come Dancing presenter of course.
This book reminded me of Glen Duncan's excellent "I, Lucifer" in that it is a playful, well written case of a novelist assuming the clothes of a non-human character. The tales of Hollywood's Golden Age are interesting, even if one has to take them with a barrel-load of salt - but it's the early sections of the book including Cheeta's transportation from Africa that are most gripping.
...more
“Impressing the ladies is an arduous task ', as the narrator is always saying on Animal Planet...'Perhaps no creature has a more elaborate courtship display than the bower bird'. No creature? That's a joke, right? You can't think of one? Clue: as part of its elaborate courtship displays this creature has invented telephones, moving pictures, cars, music, money, organized warfare, tigerskin rugs, alcohol, mood-lighting, speedboats, mink coats, cities and poetry. So, please, no sniggering at the bower birds' attempts to get laid.”
—
1 likes