By Walt Hickey
Double feature today!
Welcome to the Numlock Sunday edition.
This week, I spoke to Alissa Wilkinson who is out with the brand new book, We Tell Ourselves Stories: Joan Didion and the American Dream Machine.
I’m a huge fan of Alissa, she’s a phenomenal critic and I thought this topic — what happens when one of the most important American literary figures heads out to Hollywood to work on the most important American medium — is super fascinating. It’s a really wonderful book and if you’re a longtime Joan Didion fan or simply a future Joan Didion fan, it’s a look at a really transformative era of Hollywood and should be a fun read regardless.
Alissa can be found at the New York Times, and the book is available wherever books are sold.
This interview has been condensed and edited.
All right, Alissa, thank you so much for coming on.
Yeah, thanks for having me. It’s good to be back, wherever we are.
Yes, you are the author of We Tell Ourselves Stories: Joan Didion and the American Dream Machine. It’s a really exciting book. It’s a really exciting approach, for a Joan Didion biography and placing her in the current of American mainstream culture for a few years. I guess just backing out, what got you interested in Joan Didion to begin with? When did you first get into her work?
Joan Didion and I did not become acquainted, metaphorically, until after I got out of college. I studied Tech and IT in college, and thus didn’t read any books, because they don’t make you read books in school, or they didn’t when I was there. I moved to New York right afterward. I was riding the subway. There were all these ads for this book called The Year of Magical Thinking. It was the year 2005, the book had just come out. The Year of Magical Thinking is Didion’s National Book Award-winning memoir about the year after her husband died, suddenly of a heart attack in ’03. It’s sort of a meditation on grief, but it’s not really what that sounds like. If people haven’t read it’s very Didion. You know, it’s not sentimental, it’s constantly examining the narratives that she’s telling herself about grief.
So I just saw these ads on the walls. I was like, what is this book that everybody seems to be reading? I just bought it and read it. And it just so happened that it was right after my father, who was 46 at the time, was diagnosed with a very aggressive leukemia, and then died shortly thereafter, which was shocking, obviously. The closer I get to that age, it feels even more shocking that he was so young. I didn’t have any idea how to process that emotion or experience. The book was unexpectedly helpful. But it also introduced me to a writer who I’d never read before, who felt like she was looking at things from a different angle than everyone else.
Of course, she had a couple more books come out after that. But I don’t remember this distinctly, but probably what happened is I went to some bookstore, The Strand or something, and bought The White Album and Slouching Towards Bethlehem off the front table as everyone does because those books have just been there for decades.
From that, I learned more, starting to understand how writing could work. I didn’t realize how form and content could interact that way. Over the years, I would review a book by her or about her for one publication or another. Then when I was in graduate school, getting my MFA in nonfiction, I wrote a bit about her because I was going through a moment of not being sure if my husband and I were going to stay in New York or we were going to move to California. They sort of obligate you to go through a goodbye to all that phase if you are contemplating that — her famous essay about leaving New York. And then, we did stay in New York City. But ultimately, that’s 20 years of history.
Then in 2020, I was having a conversation (that was quite-early pandemic) with my agent about possible books I might write. I had outlined a bunch of books to her. Then she was like, “These all sound like great ideas. But I’ve always wanted to rep a book on Joan Didion. So I just wanted to put that bug in your ear.” I was like, “Oh, okay. That seems like something I should probably do.”
It took a while to find an angle, which wound up being Didion in Hollywood. This is mostly because I realized that a lot of people don’t really know her as a Hollywood figure, even though she’s a pretty major Hollywood figure for a period of time. The more of her work I read, the more I realized that her work is fruitfully understood as the work of a woman who was profoundly influenced by (and later thinking in terms of Hollywood metaphors) whether she was writing about California or American politics or even grief.
So that’s the long-winded way of saying I wasn’t, you know, acquainted with her work until adulthood, but then it became something that became a guiding light for me as a writer.
That’s really fascinating. I love it. Because again I think a lot of attention on Didion has been paid since her passing. But this book is really exciting because you came at it from looking at the work as it relates to Hollywood. What was Didion’s experience in Hollywood? What would people have seen from it, but also, what is her place there?
The directly Hollywood parts of her life start when she’s in her 30s. She and her husband — John Gregory Dunn, also a writer and her screenwriting partner — moved from New York City, where they had met and gotten married, to Los Angeles. John’s brother, Nick Dunn later became one of the most important early true crime writers at Vanity Fair, believe it or not. But at the time, he was working as a TV producer. He and his wife were there. So they moved to Los Angeles. It was sort of a moment where, you know, it’s all well and good to be a journalist and a novelist. If you want to support yourself, Hollywood is where it’s at.
So they get there at a moment when the business is shifting from these big-budget movies — the Golden Age — to the new Hollywood, where everything is sort of gritty and small and countercultural. That’s the moment they arrive. They worked in Hollywood. I mean, they worked literally in Hollywood for many years after that. And then in Hollywood even when they moved back to New York in the ’80s as screenwriters still.
People sometimes don’t realize that they wrote a bunch of produced screenplays. The earliest was The Panic in Needle Park. Obviously, they adapted Didion’s novel Play It As It Lays. There are several others, but one that a lot of people don’t realize they wrote was the version of A Star is Born that stars Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson. It was their idea to shift the Star is Born template from Hollywood entities to rock stars. That was their idea. Of course, when Bradley Cooper made his version, he iterated on that. So their work was as screenwriters but also as figures in the Hollywood scene because they were literary people at the same time that they were screenwriters. They knew all the actors, and they knew all the producers and the executives.
John actually wrote, I think, two of the best books ever written on Hollywood decades apart. One called The Studio, where he just roamed around on the Fox backlot. For a year for reasons he couldn’t understand, he got access. That was right when the catastrophe that was Dr. Doolittle was coming out. So you get to hear the inside of the studio. Then later, he wrote a book called Monster, which is about their like eight-year long attempt to get their film Up Close and Personal made, which eventually they did. It’s a really good look at what the normal Hollywood experience was at the time: which is like: you come up with an idea, but it will only vaguely resemble the final product once all the studios get done with it.
So it’s, it’s really, that’s all very interesting. They’re threaded through the history of Hollywood in that period. On top of it for the book (I realized as I was working on it) that a lot of Didion’s early life is influenced by especially her obsession with John Wayne and also with the bigger mythology of California and the West, a lot of which she sees as framed through Hollywood Westerns.
Then in the ’80s, she pivoted to political reporting for a long while. If you read her political writing, it is very, very, very much about Hollywood logic seeping into American political culture. There’s an essay called “Inside Baseball” about the Dukakis campaign that appears in Political Fictions, her book that was published on September 11, 2001. In that book, she writes about how these political campaigns are directed and set up like a production for the cameras and how that was becoming not just the campaign, but the presidency itself. Of course, she had no use for Ronald Reagan, and everything she writes about him is very damning. But a lot of it was because she saw him as the embodiment of Hollywood logic entering the political sphere and felt like these are two separate things and they need to not be going together.
So all of that appeared to me as I was reading. You know, once you see it, you can’t unsee it. It just made sense for me to write about it. On top of it, she was still alive when I was writing the proposal and shopping it around. So she actually died two months after we sold the book to my publisher. It meant I was extra grateful for this angle because I knew there’d be a lot more books on her, but I wanted to come at it from an angle that I hadn’t seen before. So many people have written about her in Hollywood before, but not quite through this lens.
Yeah. What were some things that you discovered in the course of your research? Obviously, she’s such an interesting figure, but she’s also lived so very publicly that I’m just super interested to find out what are some of the things that you learned? It can be about her, but it can also be the Hollywood system as a whole.
Yeah. I mean, I didn’t interview her for obvious reasons.
Understandable, entirely understandable.
Pretty much everyone in her life also is gone with the exception really of Griffin Dunn, who is her nephew, John’s nephew, the actor. But other than that, it felt like I needed to look at it through a critical lens. So it meant examining a lot of texts. A lot of Didion’s magazine work (which was a huge part of her life) is published in the books that people read like Slouching Towards Bethlehem and The White Album and all the other books. What was interesting to me was discovering (I mean, not “discovering” because other people have read it) that there is some work that’s not published and it’s mostly her criticism.
Most of that criticism was published in the late ’50s and the early ’60s when she was living in New York City, working at Vogue and trying to make it in the literary scene that was New York at that time, which was a very unique place. I mean, she was writing criticism and essays for both, you know, like National Review and The Nation at the same time, which was just hard to conceive of today. It was something you’d do back then. Yeah, wild stuff.
A lot of that criticism was never collected into books. The most interesting is that she’d been working at Vogue for a long time in various positions, but she wound up getting added to the film critic column at Vogue in, ’62, I want to say, although I might have that date slightly off. She basically alternated weeks with another critic for a few years, writing that until she started writing in movies proper. It’s never a great idea to be a critic and a screenwriter at the same time.
Her criticism is fascinating. So briefly, for instance, she shared that column with Pauline Kael. Pauline Kael became well known after she wrote about Bonnie and Clyde. This was prior to that. This is several years prior to that. They also hated each other for a long time afterward, which is funny, because, in some ways, their style is very different but their persona is actually very similar. So I wonder about that.
But in any case, even when she wasn’t sharing the column with Pauline Kael, it was a literal column in a magazine. So it’s like one column of text, she can say barely anything. She was always a bit of a contrarian, but she was actively not interested in the things that were occupying New York critics at the time. Things like the Auteur Theory, what was happening in France, the downtown scene and the Shirley Clark’s of the world. She had no use for it. At some point, she accuses Billy Wilder of having really no sense of humor, which is very funny.
When you read her criticism, you see a person who is very invested in a classical notion of Hollywood as a place that shows us fantasies that we can indulge in for a while. She talks in her very first column about how she doesn’t really need movies to be masterpieces, she just wants them to have moments. When she says moments, she means big swelling things that happen in a movie that make her feel things.
It’s so opposite, I think, to most people’s view of Didion. Most people associate her with this snobbish elitism or something, which I don’t think is untrue when we’re talking about literature. But for her, the movies were like entertainment, and entering that business was a choice to enter that world. She wasn’t attempting to elevate the discourse or something.
I just think that’s fascinating. She also has some great insights there. But as a film critic, I find myself disagreeing with most of her reviews. But I think that doesn’t matter. It was more interesting to see how she conceived of the movies. There is a moment later on, in another piece that I don’t think has been republished anywhere from the New York Review of Books, where she writes about the movies of Woody Allen. She hates them. It’s right at the point where he’s making like Manhattan and Annie Hall, like the good stuff. She just has no use for them. It’s one of the funniest pieces. I won’t spoil the ending because it’s hilarious, and it’s in the book.
That writing was of huge interest to me and hasn’t been republished in books. I was very grateful to get access to it, in part because it is in the archives — the electronic archives of the New York Public Library. But at the time, the library was closed. So I had to call the library and have a librarian get on Zoom with me for like an hour and a half to figure out how I could get in the proverbial back door of the library to get access while the library wasn’t open.
That’s magnificent. That’s such a cool way to go to the archives because some stuff just hasn’t been published. If it wasn’t digitized, then it’s not digitized. That’s incredible.
Yeah, it’s there, but you can barely print them off because they’re in PDFs. They’re like scanned images that are super high res, so the printer just dies when you try to print them. It’s all very fascinating. I hope it gets republished at some point because I think there’s enough interest in her work that it’s fascinating to see this other aspect of her taste and her persona.
It’s really interesting that she seems to have wanted to meet the medium where it is, right? She wasn’t trying to literary-up Hollywood. I mean, LA can be a bit of a friction. It’s not exactly a literary town in the way that some East Coast metropolises can be. It is interesting that she was enamored by the movies. Do you want to speak about what things were like for her when she moved out?
Yeah, it is funny because, at the same time, the first two movies that they wrote and produced are The Panic in Needle Park, which is probably the most new Hollywood movie you can imagine. It's about addicts at Needle Park, which is actually right where the 72nd Street subway stop is on the Upper West Side. If people have been there, it’s hard to imagine. But that was apparently where they all sat around, and there were a lot of needles. It's apparently the first movie supposedly where someone shoots up live on camera.
So it was the ’70s. That’s amazing.
Yes, and it launched Al Pacino’s film career! Yeah, it’s wild. You watch it and you’re just like, “How is this coming from the woman who’s about all this arty farty stuff in the movies.” And Play It As It Lays has a very similar, almost avant-garde vibe to it. It’s very, very interesting. You see it later on in the work that they made.
A key thing to remember about them (and something I didn’t realize before I started researching the book)was that Didion and Dunn were novelists who worked in journalism because everybody did. They wrote movies, according to them (you can only go off of what they said. A lot of it is John writing these jaunty articles. He's a very funny writer) because “we had tuition and a mortgage. This is how you pay for it.”
This comes up later on, they needed to keep their WGA insurance because John had heart trouble. The best way to have health insurance was to remain in the Writers Guild. Remaining in the Writers Guild means you had to have a certain amount of work produced through union means. They were big union supporters. For them this was not, this was very strictly not an auteurist undertaking. This was not like, “Oh, I’m gonna go write these amazing screenplays that give my concept of the world to the audience.” It’s not like Bonnie and Clyding going on here. It’s very like, “We wrote these based on some stories that we thought would be cool.”
I like that a lot. Like the idea that A Star is Born was like a pot boiler. That’s really delightful.
Completely. It was totally taken away from them by Streisand and John Peters at some point. But they were like, “Yeah, I mean, you know, it happens. We still got paid.”
Yeah, if it can happen to Superman, it can happen to you.
It happens to everybody, you know, don’t get too precious about it. The important thing is did your novel come out and was it supported by its publisher?
So just tracing some of their arcs in Hollywood. Obviously, Didion’s one of the most influential writers of her generation, there’s a very rich literary tradition. Where do we see her footprint, her imprint in Hollywood? What are some of the ways that we can see her register in Hollywood, or reverberate outside of it?
In the business itself, I don’t know that she was influential directly. What we see is on the outside of it. So a lot of people were friends. She was like a famous hostess, famous hostess. The New York Public Library archives are set to open at the end of March, of Didion and Dunn’s work, which was like completely incidental to my publication date. I just got lucky. There’s a bunch of screenplays in there that they worked on that weren’t produced. There’s also her cookbooks, and I’m very excited to go through those and see that. So you might meet somebody there.
Her account of what the vibe was when the Manson murders occurred, which is published in her essay The White Album, is still the one people talk about, even though there are a lot of different ways to come at it. That’s how we think about the Manson murders: through her lens. Later on, when she’s not writing directly about Hollywood anymore (and not really writing in Hollywood as much) but instead is writing about the headlines, about news events, about sensationalism in the news, she becomes a great media critic. We start to see her taking the things that she learned (having been around Hollywood people, having been on movie sets, having seen how the sausage is made) and she starts writing about politics. In that age, it is Hollywood’s logic that you perform for the TV. We have the debates suddenly becoming televised, the conventions becoming televised, we start to see candidates who seem specifically groomed to win because they look good on TV. They’re starting to win and rule the day.
She writes about Newt Gingrich. Of course, Gingrich was the first politician to figure out how to harness C-SPAN to his own ends — the fact that there were TV cameras on the congressional floor. So she’s writing about all of this stuff at a time when you can see other people writing about it. I mean, Neil Postman famously writes about it. But the way Didion does it is always very pegged to reviewing somebody’s book, or she’s thinking about a particular event, or she’s been on the campaign plane or something like that. Like she’s been on the inside, but with an outsider’s eye.
That also crops up in, for instance, her essays. “Sentimental Journeys” is one of her most famous ones. That one’s about the case of the Central Park Five, and the jogger who was murdered. Of course, now, we’re many decades out from that, and the convictions were vacated. We know about coerced confessions. Also Donald Trump arrives in the middle of that whole thing.
But she’s actually not interested in the guilt or innocence question, because a lot of people were writing about that. She’s interested in how the city of New York and the nation perform themselves for themselves, seeing themselves through the long lens of a movie and telling themselves stories about themselves. You see this over and over in her writing, no matter what she’s writing about. I think once she moved away from writing about the business so much, she became very interested in how Hollywood logic had taken over American public life writ large.
That’s fascinating. Like, again, she spends time in the industry, then basically she can only see it through that lens. Of course, Michael Dukakis in a tank is trying to be a set piece, of course in front of the Berlin Wall, you’re finally doing set decoration rather than doing it outside of a brick wall somewhere. You mentioned the New York thing in Performing New York. I have lived in the city for over a decade now. The dumbest thing is when the mayor gets to wear the silly jacket whenever there’s a snowstorm that says “Mr. Mayor.” It’s all an act in so many ways. I guess that political choreography had to come from somewhere, and it seems like she was documenting a lot of that initial rise.
Yeah, I think she really saw it. The question I would ask her, if I could, is how cognizant she was that she kept doing that. As someone who’s written for a long time, you don’t always recognize that you have the one thing you write about all the time. Other people then bring it up to you and you’re like, “Oh, I guess you’re right.” Even when you move into her grief memoir phase, which is how I think about the last few original works that she published, she uses movie logic constantly in those.
I mean, The Year of Magical Thinking is a cyclical book, she goes over the same events over and over. But if you actually look at the language she’s using, she talks about running the tape back, she talks about the edit, she talks about all these things as if she’s running her own life through how a movie would tell a story. Maybe she knew very deliberately. She’s not a person who does things just haphazardly, but it has the feeling of being so baked into her psyche at this point that she would never even think of trying to escape it.
Fascinating.
Yeah, that idea that you don’t know what you are potentially doing, I’ve thought about that. I don’t know what mine is. But either way. It’s such a cool way to look at it. On a certain level, she pretty much succeeded at that, though, right? I think that when people think about Joan Didion, they think about a life that freshens up a movie, right? Like, it worked
Very much, yeah. I’m gonna be really curious to see what happens over the next 10 years or so. I’ve been thinking about figures like Sylvia Plath or women with larger-than-life iconography and reputation and how there’s a constant need to relook at their legacies and reinvent and rethink and reimagine them. There's a lot in the life of Didion that I think remains to be explored. I’m really curious to see where people go with it, especially with the opening of these archives and new personal information making its way into the world.
Yeah, even just your ability to break some of those stories that have been locked away in archives out sounds like a really exciting addition to the scholarship. Just backing out a little bit, we live in a moment in which the relationship between pop culture and political life is fairly directly intertwined. Setting aside the steel-plated elephant in the room, you and I are friendly because we bonded over this idea that movies really are consequential. Coming out of this book and coming out of reporting on it, what are some of the relevances for today in particular?
Yeah, I mean, a lot more than I thought, I guess, five years ago. I started work on the book at the end of Trump One, and it’s coming out at the beginning of Trump Two, and there was this period in the middle of a slightly different vibe. But even then I watch TikTok or whatever. You see people talk about “main character energy” or the “vibe shift” or all of romanticizing your life. I would have loved to read a Didion essay on the way that young people sort of view themselves through the logic of the screens they have lived on and the way that has shaped America for a long time.
I should confirm this, I don’t think she wrote about Obama, or if she did, it was only a little bit. So her political writing ends in George W. Bush’s era. I think there’s one piece on Obama, and then she’s writing about other things. It’s just interesting to think about how her ideas of what has happened to political culture in America have seeped into the present day.
I think the Hollywood logic, the cinematic logic has given way to reality TV logic. That's very much the logic of the Trump world, right? Still performing for cameras, but the cameras have shifted. The way that we want things from the cameras has shifted, too. Reality TV is a lot about creating moments of drama where they may or may not actually exist and bombarding you with them. I think that’s a lot of what we see and what we feel now. I have to imagine she would think about it that way.
There is one interesting essay that I feel has only recently been talked about. It’s at the beginning of my book, too. It was in a documentary, and Gia Tolentino wrote about it recently. It's this essay she wrote in 2000 about Martha Stewart and about Martha Stewart’s website. It feels like the 2000s was like, “What is this website thing? Why are people so into it?” But really, it’s an essay about parasocial relationships that people develop (with women in particular) who they invent stories around and how those stories correspond to greater American archetypes. It’s a really interesting essay, not least because I think it’s an essay also about people’s parasocial relationships with Joan Didion.
So the rise of her celebrity in the 21st century, where people know who she is and carry around a tote bag, but don’t really know what they’re getting themselves into is very interesting to me. I think it is also something she thought about quite a bit, while also consciously courting it.
Yeah, I mean, that makes a ton of sense. For someone who was so adept at using cinematic language to describe her own life with every living being having a camera directly next to them at all times. It seems like we are very much living in a world that she had at least put a lot of thought into, even if the technology wasn’t around for her to specifically address it.
Yes, completely.
On that note, where can folks find the book? Where can folks find you? What’s the elevator pitch for why they ought to check this out? Joan Didion superfan or just rather novice?
Exactly! I think this book is not just for the fans, let me put it that way. Certainly, I think anyone who considers themselves a Didion fan will have a lot to enjoy here. The stuff you didn’t know, hadn’t read or just a new way to think through her cultural impact. But also, this is really a book that’s as much for people who are just interested in thinking about the world we live in today a little critically. It’s certainly a biography of American political culture as much as it is of Didion. There’s a great deal of Hollywood history in there as well. Thinking about that sweep of the American century and change is what the book is doing. It’s very, very, very informed by what I do in my day job as a movie critic at The New York Times. Thinking about what movies mean, what do they tell us about ourselves? I think this is what this book does. I have been told it’s very fun to read. So I’m happy about that. It’s not ponderous at all, which is good. It’s also not that long.
It comes out March 11th from Live Right, which is a Norton imprint. There will be an audiobook at the end of May that I am reading, which I’m excited about. And I’ll be on tour for a large amount of March on the East Coast. Then in California, there’s a virtual date, and there’s a good chance I’ll be popping up elsewhere all year, too. Those updates will be on my social feeds, which are all @alissawilkinson on whatever platform except X, which is fine because I don’t really post there anymore.
Alyssa, thank you so much for coming on.
Thank you so much.
Edited by Crystal Wang.
If you have anything you’d like to see in this Sunday special, shoot me an email. Comment below! Thanks for reading, and thanks so much for supporting Numlock.
Thank you so much for becoming a paid subscriber!
Send links to me on Twitter at @WaltHickey or email me with numbers, tips or feedback at walt@numlock.news.
Share this post