Review of Scrappy Little Nobody by Anna Kendrick

I came to my Anna Kendrick obsession sideways, in a low-key way I am realizing is very apposite for Kendrick’s brand of celebrity. I have never watched Pitch Perfect. If you asked me which of her movies cemented her in my mind as a celebrity crush, I couldn’t tell you (but I can tell you my fave—more in a moment). To top it off, I found Scrappy Little Nobody as a publisher overstock purchase from a local store and paid—wait for it—$5. Five Canadian dollars. So I didn’t even pay full price, which again, feels very on-brand for Kendrick.

Kendrick’s memoir is of the “look at me, I am just like you folk” variety: witty, self-deprecating, down-to-earth. Plenty of embarrassing stories from her childhood and awkward adolescence, along with her arrival in Los Angeles and her rocky road to her present level of moderate fame. I don’t mean to sound cynical—I truly enjoyed this memoir and found it the perfect mix of entertaining and inspirational. However, let me be upfront by saying that if you hoped for Big! Revelations! about Kendrick, or if you were expecting this to be anything more than a run-of-the-mill memoir from an actor in her thirties, then you’ll be disappointed. Pitch your expectations perfectly, and you’ll have a great time.

It is, after all, Kendrick’s atmosphere of being a scrappy little nobody that she projects that I think I find so alluring. Lots of celebrities understand their role in our society is absurd—too many these days seem to lean into that. Kendrick has somehow managed to find moderate success in her profession without (as far as I can tell) getting involved in anything that I call “weird shit”: cults, influencer gimmicks and scams, and so on. She acknowledges the gulf between her reality and those of her fans, but she has a foot still in the real world. Also, this girl works—have you seen her filmography? She’s busy.

Indeed, her love of what she does shines through in these pages—balanced by a hefty dose of “I need to work to live.” She talks about how Twilight paid her bills while she could work on indie projects that wouldn’t. She talks about the struggle, sometimes, to afford toilet paper, the incongruity of staying in swank hotels for the publicity tour for Up in the Air when, back in LA, she could barely afford the place she shared with two others. Kendrick neither romanticizes the biz nor does she downplay how much she loves theatre and acting. It’s this sense of unvarnished honesty that I appreciate.

Early on in the book, Kendrick says something that really stuck with me. Of her experience wrapping her first film, Camp, she says

I haven’t cried at the wrap of a film since. At the time, I couldn’t reconcile the fact that no matter what we told each other, I would never go back there, never be with those people ever again. Now, I see catch-and-release as part of the beauty of what I get to do.

That last sentence tho!! I think I needed to hear that this summer. My life is good overall, and I feel very fortunate and privileged. But I’m turning thirty-five, and I am becoming aware of my approaching middle age. Friends are creating families, and this aroace girlie is feeling … uncertain. Turning inwards, thinking about times past, feeling wistful and angsty about the inability to reclaim youth.

Then Anna Kendrick shows up and rolls her eyes and says, “Get over it,” but in a far more thoughtful way. Live in the present. Keep going. If old adventures never ended, new ones could never begin.

Again, I don’t want to give the impression this book is some deeply philosophical tome. It’s not. Ninety percent of this book is the most prosaic shit you could imagine. Which is what makes that ten percent, these little nuggets, all the better. Scrappy Little Nobody knows what it is about, gets in, does the job, and gets out.

My favourite Anna Kendrick movie, by the way, is currently Mr. Right, with Sam Rockwell. I watched it for the first time a few weeks ago (I bought this book about six months ago but hadn’t read it until now). I was obsessed. How had no one told me to watch this nine-year-old movie before now?? Kendrick plays to type—a weirdo—and pulls it off with such an incredible balance between mania and elation that I don’t know what else to do except applaud. I know your dream already came true, but in case you need to see it again in print, Anna: Kendrick is a revelation.

If you enjoy Kendrick’s performances, you’ll like this book. If you think she’s a scrappy little nobody, this book could change your mind and get you interested in her performances. Or not. I don’t know. Don’t trust me; I didn’t even pay full price for it.