I really wish I’d kept a list of all of the names that Griffin Dunne drops in The Friday Afternoon Club. ‘Drops’ might be a little unfair – the people he mentions are/were family friends, relatives, and colleagues. But to give you a flavour, the list would include Harrison Ford, Jack Nicholson, Carrie Fisher, Roman Polanski, George Clooney, and Joan Didion (and husband John Dunne).

During one of my parents’ extravagant parties I got up to pee and caught Judy Garland rifling through the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. Warren Beaty once played the piano in our living room in lieu of joining a drunken game of charades captained by a smashed Ida Lupino. Sean Connery saved me from drowning.

Just a snippet from the truth-is-stranger-than-fiction memoir of Griffin Dunne.

Dunne grew up in LA, in a family that was well connected to the movie industry, but there’s more to the story than brushes with fame. Significant trauma, mental illness, addiction, intriguing family rivalries (notably the John Dunne and Joan Didion bits), a closeted father, a mother with complicated health issues, and an horrific murder and the subsequent trial.

The first part of the book focuses on Griffin’s childhood – it’s entertaining and light stuff. We hear about all sorts of shenanigans, although the highlight was his account of attending his Aunt Joan’s party for the publication of Tom Wolfe’s The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, where thirteen-year-old Griffin refused to share a joint with Harrison Ford because he wanted to ‘keep his head clear for Janis’, who he was desperate to hook up with. And by Janis, he means Janis Joplin.

In the middle section of the memoir, Dunne reminisces about his early twenties, when he shared an apartment in Manhattan’s Hotel Des Artistes with his best friend, Carrie Fisher. While Carrie was filming ‘some sci-fi movie’ (Star Wars), he was a struggling actor and working as a popcorn seller at Radio City Music Hall. Lots happens in his twenties and, unlike some of the detail-heavy childhood scenes, there’s a casualness to the telling –

Before I packed my bags to begin my New York chapter, I got a little distracted and didn’t actually get on a plane until a year later. I was in love again. Being of sound mind and reckless heart, I did what any normal seventeen-year-old boy would do: I got married in Tijuana.

The last part of the book examines the brutal murder of Griffin’s 22-year-old sister, Dominique. She was a rising star in Hollywood, her life cut short when she was strangled to death by her ex-boyfriend. A highly public trial took place, which ended with an unfathomably light sentence – her murderer served just two and a half years.

There were elements of this book that I was engrossed in – mainly, I was there for the complicated relationship between Dominick Dunne and his brother John, and sister-in-law, Joan.

Dad always made sure to invite John and his serious writer wife, proud to introduce them around. John was then known as ‘Nick’s brother,’ though by the end of the sixties, Dad would be known as ‘Joan Didion’s brother-in-law.’

Secondly, the true-crime turn that the memoir takes toward the end was gripping (not that this book would be defined as true crime).

But (and it’s a big but) the name-dropping began to wash over me. There was so much of it, and it quickly lost its sparkle. But worse than that, Dunne’s bragging about his sexual exploits made me cringe. Maybe he thought it sounded smart or cool but it was the opposite. People who are smart and cool are also discrete. For example –

Carrie wrote that she has a new friend named Tanya, and in the course of their conversation had talked me up so highly that her new friend wanted to sleep with me as soon as possible.

Ugh.

So, who should read this one? If you want Hollywood gossip, you’d probably enjoy it. If you are a reader of all things Didion, then don’t miss it – she doesn’t play a big role but the mentions are gold. Otherwise, I think the unevenness of the book overall makes it difficult to love.

2.5/5

“I’m going to have the chili,” said Dad. Then to Dominique: “You should try it, it’s what they’re famous for.”
“I know, Elizabeth Taylor had it flown first class to the set of Cleopatra,” Dominique said. “But you know I don’t eat meat.”