Rating: 
Summary: Mostly dross, but some gold
Review: (My comments are based on "All I Need Is Love" - the 1988 Random House first edition. Is it the pre-lawyer version, or is this one?)The early sections are a brutally vivid account of Kinski's impoverished childhood and adolescence in Poland. (i.e. "A sow sets a soup plate down on the table before me. It is filled to the brim and the soup sloshes over. Her hands up to her wrists are dunked in the gray muck, where white pieces of fat float around like corpses. I nearly puke.") You are not likely to forget it. For intensifying wretchedness to an almost metaphysical level, it rivals Kosinki's "The Painted Bird." While I would like to report that the entire book is on this level, I can't. Once the narrative advances Kinski to steady employment as an actor/whore, the reportage becomes extremely sketchy - less informative and less interesting than a Danielle Steele novel on the subject would be, I suspect. His brief but unforgettable performance in "Doctor Zhivago" - "I am the only free man on this train!" - receives no more than a paragraph or two. He can't help but devote more space to Werner Herzog, of course, for all his rabid antipathy towards the man. (i.e. "Big red ants should piss in his eyes...") Yet I can't imagine anyone being satisfied with the meager portions of information Kinski doles out concerning the films that will be his legacy to cinema. The book does not end, so much as run out of tape - exacerbating its quality of shoddiness. I came away with the distinct feeling that Kinski considered this book nothing more than another trick turned for the quick money.
Rating: 
Summary: Aw hells yeah Klaus Kinski in full effect
Review: . This is a great book. There's really little else to say about it, other than after reading it, I was profoundly affected and have remained so for the rest of my life. This book haunts me on a daily basis. Think about that. Secondly, this is a much superior translation than the original (_ALL I NEED IS LOVE_) edition, but the names have been abbreviated and some passages exculpated. So it's not exactly UNCUT. In addition, the wording in the part about Klaus sleeping with Nastassja has been considerably lightened, so it seems as if there's just some fatherly affection going on. You'd be well advised to know that Nastassja actually sued her father over the original edition of this book. Anyhow, if you haven't bought it, you should.
Rating: 
Summary: Narcissism gone awry
Review: A very entertaining book, although it's about 100 pages too long. Sometimes I caught myself wanting to yell "Hey Klaus, it doesn't always have to be about you!" His love for his son transcends creepy. A compelling book. I think the cover blurb gets it right - it reads like performance art.
Rating: 
Summary: A dull screed.
Review: Basically like letting someone rant at you endlessly, and much of what's being said isn't even true. Kinski goes off on alleged sexual conquests and flights of sheer hatred. Such a thing might be rendered amusing, but Kinski doesn't have writer in him enough to pull it off.
Rating:
Summary: A dull screed.
Review: Basically like letting someone rant at you endlessly, and much of what's being said isn't even true. Kinski goes off on alleged sexual conquests and flights of sheer hatred. Such a thing might be rendered amusing, but Kinski doesn't have writer in him enough to pull it off.
Rating:
Summary: Kinski's memiors
Review: I was attracted to this book for three reasons. First of all, I heard that this book is one of director Richard Linklater's favourite autobiographies. Secondly, this book was origianlly pulled by Random House because of some controversial subject mtter, which gives this book a certain notoriety. Thirdly, any man who has worked with Sergio Leone and Werner Herzog is certainly worth reading about. Upon reading it, I must admit I was not instantly taken in by the memiors of the erratic, and explosive Klaus Kinski. But, after a while, Kinski's view of the world and his way of living grew on me; even inspiring me. My criticism of this book is that his touching unveiling of his emotions are far too often outnumbered by his detailed documentations of his sexual exploits. Kinski claims that his having sex with countless lovers and prostitutes was a release of his yearning to be loved and the release of his animal instincts. If this is true, than the point is made early on and it's unnecessary for the reader to be hammered over the head by it. Having laid aside that criticism of the book, there are some extraordinarily touching moments of Kinski living a life to the fullest; trying to absorb nature's natural beauty and trying to erradicate all of society's B.S. If these moments when Kinski lays his heart out to the reader with touching poetic observation that strikes the reader like a thunderbolt. It's hard not to be touched in the third quarter of the book by Kinski's adoring words about his son, Nanhoi, probably the only person in this world that Kinski ever truly loved. Incidentally, this book's original title was "All I Need is Love". This book has created such an impact that there are even a few web-sites dedicated solely to the life of Klaus Kinski. If you have any anarchistic impulses or are intrigued by the man we once knew named Klaus Kinski. Get this book, and I promise you will never forget or regret it!
Rating:
Summary: A dirty, filthy little man
Review: I'm a big fan of biographies, namely because, as the saying goes , truth is stranger than fiction. The only bios I don't bother with are the ones about writers, who tend to generally lead pretty boring lives. Klaus Kinski was an internationally reknowned actor, from Poland, who did his best work in the 60s and 70s, mostly with German director Werner Herzog. I must say that this is one of the most bizarre bios I've ever read. It's basically Kinski spewing forth his thoughts on art (which he views with impossible idealism), other actors and artists (whom he pretty much spits on) and the rest of book is basically about his sex life. Its an absolutely hilarious book. Kinski goes on and on about hundreds of sexual encounters, claiming that he has a vast love for people that he just can't contain, so it manifests itself sexually. He doesn't spare us many details (one of my favourite recollections is about his encounter with some giant woman with an abundant moustache). Honestly, I don't believe the guy. He has this hint of machismo that makes it seem like he's lying about his virility. It's not a very flattering autobiography either. Kinski was a restless, irresponsible cad who cared only about himself. He left his women high and dry on numerous occasions and even describes his daughter, Nastassja, as a good reason to allow retroactive abortions. The guy was thoroughly despicable and full of delusions of his own grandeur, but it's a fascinating read. Definitely a summer beach read as you won't expend much brain power. Read it and laugh at how someone willingly and foolishly goes about destroying his own life. Fun stuff.
Rating:
Summary: Brilliant!
Review: Insane, but a priceless look into the mind of a rather unstable artist. Kinski's book will haunt you, and not just the salacious bits, either. He has an eye for beauty that is as strong if not stronger than his appetite for the base.
Rating:
Summary: Brilliant!
Review: Insane, but a priceless look into the mind of a rather unstable artist. Kinski's book will haunt you, and not just the salacious bits, either. He has an eye for beauty that is as strong if not stronger than his appetite for the base.
Rating:
Summary: As tortured and raw as the man himself
Review: Kinski Uncut may be the only actor's bio worth reading. Kinski, one of the world's greatest actors, wastes no time psychoanalyzing his sex drive, his fanatical obsession with his son, or his need for a fast buck and material goods. He plunges the reader neck-deep into his depraved lifestyle, and doesn't let up -- literally -- until his own death. The book is one long sex act, but Kinski's writing is so good, his soul so graphically exposed, that the pornography never grows tedious. Kinski was in every sense of the word a whore, so it's no wonder that he loved consorting with whores. Each encounter truly grows out of Kinski's need for human love and contact; his Casanovian behavior was, in a way, Kinski's only real emotional outlet, since acting was no more than a means of funding his sexual activities. And the span of his life is breath-taking; Angela's Ashes takes a back seat to the first 40 or so pages of this book! As for his films, Kinski did them all for money, and there's never any indication of how he really felt about them. (Ironically, in his quest for fast money, he turned down a role in Raiders of the Lost Ark because the script was "shitty"!) By far the most achingly bizarre and personal book I've ever read; it was exactly what I'd hoped for.
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