About Face
The following are the opening paragraphs from a much longer autobiography by film director Elia Kazan. As you read, think
about why Kazan would begin his 825-page life story in this way.
“W H Y are you mad?”
My wife asks me that, seems like every morning. Usually at
breakfast, when my face is still wrinkled from sleep.
“I’m not mad,” I say. “It’s just my face.”
I’ve said that to her ten times. She’s my third wife and I’m
happy with her, but she has yet to learn that I don’t like to talk in
the morning. Which is tough on her, a decent person, full of lively
chatter, like bright pebbles.
What do we learn about the author from this opening section?
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What is the simile in the last sentence and what does the image add
to the idea that his wife is “full of lively chatter”?
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Confronting me where I’m sitting at my typewriter is a
small round mirror, clamped in a pretty but rickety Mex-made stand. What do we learn about the author in this section?
It frames my face neatly, and sometimes when I work, I study my
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image. I certainly look mad.
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The fact is I am mad, most every morning. I wake up mad.
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Still.
“Haven’t you noticed that everyone is afraid of you?” my
wife goes on, her tone gentle and sympathetic. “You’re
intimidating.”
“Bullshit!”
“Ask your children. Or mine.” She’s brought me two blond What might the reader infer about the author from his use of the
word blond to describe his stepchildren?
stepchildren, nice kids. “They’re scared of you too.”
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I’m rather good at concealing anger. Had to be in my old
profession. But recently it’s begun to show through. What I’m mad
at nowadays is, for instance, mortality. I’ve passed seventy-eight and
have only recently found how to enjoy life. For one thing, I’ve
stopped worrying about what people think of me – or so I like to
From Elia Kazan: A Life, New York: Knopf, 1988, 3-4.
What do we learn about the author in this section?
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About Face
The following are the opening paragraphs from a much longer autobiography by film director Elia Kazan. As you read, think
about why Kazan would begin his 825-page life story in this way.
believe. I used to spend most of my time straining to be a nice guy
so people would like me. No I’m out of show business and I’ve
become my true grumpy self.
I no longer hide it; it’s out in the open, my perennial scowl.
Which is why my smile, when it does appear, is so dazzling. The
sheer surprise of it! That’s supposed to be a joke.
S O M E T I M E S the image I see in the little round mirror shocks
me. There he is – my father. I’m beginning to look like the man I
feared most of my life and particularly during the years when I was
growing up. I look away. I look back. He’s still there, and his face
still disturbs me. My youngest son, who’s only had twenty-five years
to get used to my mug, is more direct. “What’s the matter with your
face?” he’s said to me. Some nerve! Where’s respect for your parents
these days? “What’s the matter with it?” I demand. “It looks like it’s
about to blow up,” he says. “Like you could do something terrible
any minute.”
Which is exactly what I used to think of my old man.
Actually it’s not the evidence of uncontrollable rage that
worries me. It’s another look, one that is there only occasionally,
and when I see it I don’t like it. It’s my father’s sly face. I call it the
Anatolian Smile, the smile that covers resentment. And fear.
Where did it come from – on me, I mean – that mask to
hide a truer feeling? Whatever produces that smile, I’m not proud
of. I’m moving the mirror back and out of line.
The thing about my face that disturbs me most is the clutch
of crooked crosses on my forehead. I know how they got there.
When I was separated from my first wife, Molly, I was very unhappy
and used to sleep with my face clenched like a fist. I would grind my
teeth too. I made an effort to control it and did. But no one warned
me that the creases on my forehead would not go away.
From Elia Kazan: A Life, New York: Knopf, 1988, 3-4.
Why do you think the author writes the last sentence of this section?
What can you infer from it?
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Why does the author not like looking like his own father?
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Write two partial quotes that support that opinion.
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Of what is the author worried? How do you know?
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Why does the author move the mirror “out of line”? Why not
simply stop looking at it?
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About Face
The following are the opening paragraphs from a much longer autobiography by film director Elia Kazan. As you read, think
about why Kazan would begin his 825-page life story in this way.
From Elia Kazan: A Life, New York: Knopf, 1988, 3-4.