Only the Dead Know Burbank

Starred review from May 23, 2016
In actor Tatum’s unusual, captivating debut, set in Germany and the U.S. in the early 20th century, a woman cursed with immortality eventually finds comfort in filmmaking. Maddy Ulm narrates her story with a wry pragmatism that doesn’t conceal her underlying melancholy over her unchanging condition, and her longing for the experiences and feelings that only mortals can have. Film proves to be her outlet, and horror her specialty. When one of her silent films is picked up by Universal Pictures, she heads from Bavaria to Hollywood and is soon working on some of the most famous movies of the age. Maddy loves the studio and delights in haunting the nooks and crannies of the sets, but her pervasive sense of loneliness is always evident, and she bears the crushing knowledge that she’ll be forever trapped in the body of a young woman. Spanning the course of about 20 years leading up to the rise of Hitler, this bitingly witty and darkly vibrant concoction features an irresistible heroine, and the gorgeous, lush writing easily conjures the grit and glamour of golden age Hollywood. Maddy’s story is crass, lyrical, and even tragic. Cameos by Lon Chaney and Boris Karloff will undoubtedly delight film buffs, as will the meticulously researched depiction of the dawn of filmmaking. Agent: Noah Ballard, Curtis Brown Ltd.

One of the undead becomes the secret cinematic muse of 1920s Berlin and 1930s Hollywood in this historical fantasy.After a nightmarish childhood, Maddy survives both the Spanish Flu epidemic and the Great War when an encounter with what appears to be a werewolf leaves her in possession of eternal life. Her travels bring her in contact with the filmmakers who were pioneering the great flowering of German cinema during the silent era. Maddy works as consultant, actress, and director, specializing in ways to harness the visual language of film to poetic renderings of horror. Because she appears to be a young girl, though, she has no way of leveraging her accomplishments into a major directing career. The same is true when success brings her to Hollywood, though she does encounter the architects of early screen horror, the directors James Whale and Tod Browning and the actors Lon Chaney and Boris Karloff (that lovely actor who is lovingly drawn). There's a great idea at the heart of this: that an emissary from the undead is best suited to call forth the eternal poetry of movies, the stories and images that will outlast those who made them. But the opening section detailing Maddy's early years is a heavy-spirited slog, the later detour to Nazi Germany an unpleasant lapse in taste, and the book never quite finds the right tone, failing to marry the Hollywood legend and history of the industry's early years to the yearning, necrophiliac lyricism of the concept. This novel often speaks in beautiful language. Why, oh, why doesn't it sing? COPYRIGHT(1) Kirkus Reviews, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

September 15, 2016

As a child, Maddy Ulm wakes in a shallow grave near Vienna, her mouth sewn shut. She claws her way out, almost dies again, and finally finds refuge with a group of traveling players. Maddie is now an undead, never aging, and living a shadowy existence. From those early primitive theatricals she moves on to the fledgling German film industry and eventually to Hollywood at the dawn of the talking picture. Maddie's unnatural nature gives her an affinity for the horror genre, and she becomes the driving force behind classics such as Dracula and Frankenstein. She mixes with icons including Boris Karloff and Lon Chaney, but while she craves acclaim and success, her childlike appearance keeps her under the radar. The prose, while occasionally quite stylish, is slightly overstuffed. This problem smooths out as the story shifts into gear and the pathos of Maddy's being pulls readers in. VERDICT Fans of early film, especially of the horror variety, will be satisfied by this uneven yet intriguing novel by actor (Powder) and author (The Monster's Muse) Tatum.--MM

Copyright 2016 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

September 15, 2016
How did Universal Pictures crank out so many deathless horror masterpieces in the 1920s and '30s? Tatum has an answerand deathless is the perfect word for it. A young German girl named Maddy is saved from Spanish flu death by a curse that makes her immortal. Like Claudia in Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire (1976), she's stuck in adolescence even as her intellect soars. A stint with street performers leads to her directing (uncredited) two early masterpieces of German expressionistic horror. Then it's off to Hollywood with her gentle-giant friend Mutter, who becomes the model for Karloff's portrayal of Frankenstein's monster. Karloff Billie, she calls himis one of Maddy's few friends, along with Lon Chaney, and it's Maddy's savvy editing that saves Phantom of the Opera, and her vampiristic insight that inspires Dracula. She's still a little girl, though (aka the Phantom of Stage Twenty-eight!), and credit always goes to weirdo Tod Browning or acidic James Whale. Maddy's iciness is thoroughly entertaining, assisted hugely by Tatum's erudite first-person prose and fierce commitment to his ambitious, outlandish premise.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2016, American Library Association.)

August 15, 2016
One of the undead becomes the secret cinematic muse of 1920s Berlin and 1930s Hollywood in this historical fantasy.After a nightmarish childhood, Maddy survives both the Spanish Flu epidemic and the Great War when an encounter with what appears to be a werewolf leaves her in possession of eternal life. Her travels bring her in contact with the filmmakers who were pioneering the great flowering of German cinema during the silent era. Maddy works as consultant, actress, and director, specializing in ways to harness the visual language of film to poetic renderings of horror. Because she appears to be a young girl, though, she has no way of leveraging her accomplishments into a major directing career. The same is true when success brings her to Hollywood, though she does encounter the architects of early screen horror, the directors James Whale and Tod Browning and the actors Lon Chaney and Boris Karloff (that lovely actor who is lovingly drawn). There's a great idea at the heart of this: that an emissary from the undead is best suited to call forth the eternal poetry of movies, the stories and images that will outlast those who made them. But the opening section detailing Maddy's early years is a heavy-spirited slog, the later detour to Nazi Germany an unpleasant lapse in taste, and the book never quite finds the right tone, failing to marry the Hollywood legend and history of the industry's early years to the yearning, necrophiliac lyricism of the concept. This novel often speaks in beautiful language. Why, oh, why doesn't it sing?

COPYRIGHT(2016) Kirkus Reviews, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.