Review
A New York Times Staff Critics Pick of the Year • A Best Book of the Year from Smithsonian Magazine
“A raw, funny and fabulous memoir . . . Fierstein shares his life less in conventional chapters than in colorful patches: 59 of them, stitched together with photos and a plush index. The sum of this is warm and enveloping and indeed two-sided: One is a raw, cobwebby tale of anger, hurt, indignation and pain; flip it over and you get billowing ribbons of humor, gossip and fabulous, hot-pink success . . . With a dramaturge’s expert timing, Fierstein saves the most difficult anecdote of his upbringing for near the end, like the classic 11 o’clock number in musical theater. A story about his mother’s reaction to his accidental coming-out, it’s a pin prick to the heart. Actually it makes the heart a pin cushion.” --Alexandra Jacobs, The New York Times
"I love this book. Harvey Fierstein turns a phrase into a novel and the personal into the universal. The day for this book has come." --Gloria Steinem
“I am in awe of Harvey’s theatrical history. From being among the vanguard of New York’s Experimental Theatre, through Warhol, to Broadway musicals. Who can touch that? His memoir is extraordinary, and he is in a class by himself.” --Patti LuPone
“Harvey’s book is a perfect reflection of him; full of heart, chutzpah, great stories, and tons of belly laughs. And wigs.” --Andy Cohen
"Harvey is the king and queen of Broadway. He can take you on a journey with his words and he is hysterical." --Henry Winkler
“This is a beautiful memoir - full of humor and heart - I read it in 2 days - smiling laughing and wiping away tears - don’t miss this book - a great read from a wonderful man - I love Harvey Firestein.” -- Rosie O’Donnell
“Harvey Fierstein is a true American original who has blazed his own trail through popular culture for half-a-century. His memoir is every bit as witty and brave and big-hearted as the man himself.” --Armistead Maupin
"A poignant reflection on a decades-long career as a playwright and actor that will make you laugh and cry in turn." --Fi O'reilly, npr
"Yes, this is a "warts and all" book. It's also funny, touching, informative, fascinating, and important. Fierstein writes with great honesty and insight about theatre and also about being gay, AIDS, politics, and getting and staying sober. I Was Better Last Night is a must-read for everyone interested in theatre but also for everyone interested in history, gay rights, sobriety, and learning self-acceptance. It is a rich book...Fierstein knows how to write an autobiography. The people are vividly sketched, the stories are beautifully told, and the funny anecdotes are really funny. Fierstein's writing voice is so natural that the book feels like hanging out with a particularly eloquent friend. While parts are sad and parts are painful, the overall takeaway is of a life well and fully lived and honestly shared." --Wendy Caster, Talkin' Broadway
"Poignant and laugh-out-loud funny…With wisdom gained and mistakes made, the stories come together to describe an astonishingly colorful and meaningful life." --Denny Patterson, OutFront Magazine
“For lovers of theater, queer and hetero, “I Was Better Last Night” is a feast of memories. For LGBTQ folk who lived through the early AIDS epidemic, ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ – the fight for marriage equality – the memoir is the story of a queer hero. It’s the tale of an icon who makes you laugh, cry and get angry (at homophobia)...Once you start "I Was Better Last Night,” be prepared to let the vacuuming go, the bills to go unpaid, so you can burn the midnight oil…Fierstein’s coming out story is gut-wrenching. His account of his friend Harvey being gay-bashed is terrifying.…Fierstein writes with raw honesty about his alcoholism (his long “love affair” with Southern Comfort), his heart surgery and his regrets. Reading “I Was Better Last Night” is like seeing a fabulous Broadway play on opening night.” --The Washington Blade
"Harvey Fierstein, the legendary actor of the stage and screen, opens up about his storied career in his memoir. Beginning with his childhood in Jewish Brooklyn, he takes us through his coming of age, finding his voice in the gay rights movement, making his Broadway debut in Torch Song Trilogy, and so much more. He doesn't shy away from his personal struggles, from getting sober to the AIDS crisis in NYC. The result? A moving and funny look back on a remarkable life." --Town & Country
“Scrumptious . . . The Harvey Fierstein glimpsed here is tantalizingly, defiantly, irreducibly complex. It’s a pity Sondheim isn’t around to offer the contradictory protagonist of this memoir the musical he deserves.”--Charles McNulty, Los Angeles Times
"Fierstein… looks back on his show-biz travails and the struggle for gay rights in this raucous debut memoir. He recaps his parts in theater, movies, and TV…as well as lurid episodes from New York’s gay demimonde of the 1970s and ’80s, and a bout with alcoholism that ended with a suicide attempt. Readers will appreciate his blunt takes on anti-gay discrimination in matters small and large…Defined by a campy yet bittersweet comic sensibility, Fierstein’s vivid writing about the pratfalls, exhilaration, and painstaking craft of a life in theater beguiles." --Publishers Weekly
"The actor and playwright looks back on his pioneering path…this personal history movingly charts the author’s journey as a playwright and actor. Not content to revel in the success of his most famous roles on Broadway, Fierstein also gives insightful, unflinching glimpses into his artistic development and creative process. Among the strongest sections are the author’s revelations about the evolution of his beloved Torch Song Trilogy, “proof of [the LGBTQ+ community’s] struggle and a road map for how we got here.” Fierstein is a pleasant guide throughout, glossing over his role in countless firsts—“first openly gay actor to play an openly gay lead in a Broadway show” and “first openly gay actor to play an openly gay role on a sitcom”—as he shares his personal, professional, and creative highs and lows. The author is particularly strong when he writes about his feelings of abandonment during the AIDS crisis of the early 1980s. In stark yet passionate sections, he evokes the fear as well as the deep kinship that arose in his community during this time, though he is unsparing in many of his assessments…Despite Fierstein’s somberness when appropriate, he also excels at showcasing his quick wit. Interspersed with his creative and artistic journeys are hilarious stories of his encounters with celebrities…It all adds up to an encapsulation of Fierstein’s philosophy that there is “no such thing as having lived too much.” A poignant, clever, and entertaining look at an impressive, unique career." --Kirkus Reviews
"In this richly detailed book, award-winning playwright and actor Fierstein tells his life story… His memoir is filled with evocative characters and scenes, and his wit and way with dialogue shine…. Written with verve and enthusiasm, Fierstein’s memoir will be a must-read for his fans and for theater lovers and anyone who appreciates pop culture." --James Collins, Library Journal
About the Author
HARVEY FIERSTEIN is the Tony Award-winning author of Torch Song Trilogy and La Cage aux Folles. His other theater writings include Kinky Boots, Newsies, Casa Valentina (all Tony-nominated), A Catered Affair (twelve Drama Desk nominations), and Bella Bella, and his theater performances include, Torch Song Trilogy and Hairspray (Tony Awards for both), Fiddler on the Roof, La Cage aux Folles, Gently Down the Stream, and A Catered Affair. His film and television appearances include Mrs. Doubtfire, The Good Wife, and Cheers (Emmy nominated), and he has voiced characters in the film Mulan, and the shows Big Mouth, The Dark Crystal, BoJack Horseman, and many more. He lives in a small fictional town in Connecticut with whatever animals will have him.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
On Befriending Robin Williams & Making Mrs. Doubtfire
Working on Mrs. Doubtfire was a dream. Director Chris Columbus devised a brilliant system of capturing all that was Robin [Williams]. We did each shot over and over again as scripted until Chris was sure he had what he needed, and then Robin was set loose to improvise. This was especially fun when we worked on the scenes transforming him into Mrs. Doubtfire. But the shot I remember most was the one where Robin knocked on my door and asked me to make him into a woman. I did the line as written a few times until Chris told me he had what he needed. Now it was my turn to improvise. I cannot tell you how many times Robin knocked, said, “Can you make me a woman?” and I reacted. Dozens of takes, dozens of lines . . . until Chris finally said, “Cut. We’ve got enough."
We were just about to step off set when I was struck with an inspiration. I screamed out, “Just one more.” Chris was game. We went back and I delivered the line that has become a meme for all occasions: “Oh, honey, I’m so happy.”
Losing Robin was impossible for all who loved him. Cliché be damned, he was like a brother to me.
Always generous, supportive, inclusive whenever we could get together. I don’t know why, but some people just walk right into your heart and make themselves at home. That’s the way it always felt with Robin. As with any true friendship, it was our private time that I cherished most. We were once having dinner in San Francisco when I told him I needed to get back to LA in the morning. As it happened, a studio was sending its private jet to bring him to Hollywood for a meeting. He invited me to come along. We were the only ones in the plane’s cabin besides a flight attendant. For reasons I don’t recall, there was a guitar on the floor. Robin picked it up and began to improvise. Nonsensical as it sounds, for the next hour I took on the role of Spanish actress Charo and he assumed the role of a chihuahua as we fought over which one of us Xavier Cugat loved best. It was a musical. We were in cuchi-cuchi heaven.
Of all questions the press asks I am most often queried about Robin. He is so beloved. People only need to hear his name and they automatically smile. I confess, that was never my reaction to him. Even before considering the torment he must have been experiencing to end his life the way he did, whenever we were together my heart reached out longing to comfort him. My brain reasoned, What the hell do you think he needs from you? He’s got a wife, beautiful children, a great career, more money than he can ever spend, terrific buddies, and a world of strangers who would kill to be his friend. The audacity to think he needs anything from you!
But that feeling was always there. A tiny voice from deep within called out in pain, and I was never sure he knew that I heard it.
On Ed Norton, Jon Stewart, and Death to Smoochy
I was positive that Death to Smoochy would be a huge hit, which proves how little I know. It was a satirical comedy with a cast led by Robin Williams and Edward Norton, both big draws at the time. The script was dark, dumb, fun, allotting plenty of opportunities for both leads to go wild. Also featured was Jon Stewart in a rare acting gig. I was most impressed with the movie’s lighting design. Shooting in shadowy locations, the designer used saturated color in complementary hues to transform the world of children’s television from rainbow happiness to the unnervingly conflicted. Being on set was visually exciting. But then, when I saw the movie, the colors had been diluted and dulled. Maybe it was all too much when they viewed the footage.
I remember filming in Times Square, right outside what was then the Toys “R” Us megastore. It was an all-night shoot, which costs plenty, so there’s no cancelling even if you get hit with a blizzard. We got hit with a blizzard. We needed to shoot a scene in which I, a tough gangster type, threaten the life of Edward Norton, a wimp, in the back of my stretch limo. They put it off as long as they could, hoping the snowfall would let up so you could see something beyond the car windows, but it was not to be. The sun was about to rise and the snow showed no sign of stopping. Danny DeVito, the director, soldiered on and shot the scene, and then my closeups, but by the time he turned around for Edward’s singles, everyone was exhausted. Danny took me aside and said, “Poor Edward’s in the back of the car, practically dead. All I need is a close-up of a truly frightened look on his face and we can wrap for the night. I’m counting on you. Get in there and say something really scary so I can grab the shot and we can get the fuck out of here.”
“I’ll try,” I said, racking my brain for something that would frighten an actor who’d played opposite Marlon Brando, Robert De Niro, and Frances McDormand. Danny put me in place, almost on top of Edward, squeezing him into the corner of the car’s back- seat. I brought my face inches from his, as close as I could without getting in the frame, and as soon as Danny called “Action,” I began to darkly hiss into this mouth:
“You so pretty. I wish’t I had a doll of you. I wish’t I had a doll of you and I would fuck it.” Edward’s face turned white. Danny hollered “Cut!”
Edward sprang out from under me and bolted from the car, off into the blinding snowstorm. Not that we run in the same circles, but I don’t think he’s ever spoken to me again.
Danny does like the look of danger. In another scene, which I think was excised from the movie, he had me threaten Jon Stewart by standing on his privates. He laid poor Jon on the ground and had me tower over him, the heel of my shoe dangerously close to his genitalia. Of course, they placed rails for me to lean on so I wouldn’t accidentally slip and destroy his future lineage; but it was still a scary prospect for Jon, and, just as soon as Danny called “Cut!” Mr. Stewart sprang out from under me, and although we don’t run in the same circles, I don’t believe he’s ever spoken to me again.
On Making La Cage aux Folles, Arthur Laurents, and Shirley McLaine
What a gutsy little queen I was. Still in my twenties, I had the nerve to claim a place at the table with two of the theater’s greatest talents: director Arthur Laruents and writer Jerry Herman. Unbelievable! Arthur proposed a structure for our sessions. We’d work scene by scene, meeting once a week at Jerry’s. We began each session with me reading aloud the new scene I’d just written. Arthur would edit it on the fly, barking out, “No jokes— cut that!” He demanded that all dialogue be true to the characters, without setups or punch lines. I teased Arthur, telling him he sounded like a barking dog. From then on, his order became “It’s a dog. Take it out!”
Second item of business had us discussing how Jerry might musicalize that particular section. Sometimes it was a totally new idea, as with “The Best of Times,” but more often he would cannibalize my dialogue into his lyrics, as with “I Am What I Am” or “Cocktail Conversation,” resulting in the song and the scene melding into one.
Next, we’d discuss where the plot was going and what the next scene should be. Arthur was a genius at construction. Whatever he didn’t know instinctively he’d learned at the knees of great directors and producers like Jerome Robbins and Hal Prince. Believe me, I listened to every word the man said, knowing full well that it came from the best in the biz. I was privy to lessons you could not get from any textbook or college class. The man knew his shit. Following his lead, our show took very few wrong steps.
When I got the call about Arthur I had immediately phoned his old and my new friend, Shirley MacLaine, with the exciting news.
“Call them back and tell them no!” she snapped.
“But why?” I asked. Arthur had written The Turning Point, one of my favorite of Shirley’s films. I thought she’d be ecstatic for me. “Let’s say it’s your birthday and a hundred of your favorite peo- ple are throwing you a party. You’re surrounded with love and support and appreciation. Then the door opens and in walks Arthur, who, for reasons you will never understand. is cross with you. The love and support of one hundred friends will not protect you from the cruel intent of that man. By the time he’s done, you will be sorry you ever thought of having a birthday.”
Fast-forward three years to find us all standing together on the stage of the Uris Theatre, where La Cage has just won six Tony Awards. It’s the finale of the broadcast, and everyone who’d participated in the evening is lined up together on bleachers singing “The Best of Times” from our show as the credits roll. On this happiest occasion I turned and gaped in horror at what was happening right in front of me, right in front of America, on live television. There, center stage, stood Arthur giving Shirley MacLaine notes on what was wrong with the one-woman show she’d done earlier that sea- son. Forget a hundred friends. Millions of eyes could not protect her from Arthur
