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Beatific BEATTY Despite Bulworth's flaws, Warren Beatty's
newest outing further demonstrates the actor's
outstanding talent. BY KIM MORGAN
243-2122 EXT. 342 According to Robin Morgan's The Book of Film Biographies, actor Warren Beatty is "more famous for his espousal of liberal causes and his affairs with actresses from Joan Collins to Madonna--despite his achievements." How unfortunate. This Hollywood legend has gone from pretty-boy method actor in Elia Kazan's Splendor in the Grass to producer and star of the seminal anti-establishment picture Bonnie and Clyde. He created and starred in films like the The Parallax View, a superb political thriller; Shampoo, a satire in which he plays the only straight hairdresser in California; and Heaven CanWait, a sweet romantic comedy. He also directed and starred in Reds, the critically acclaimed saga of John Reed. Beatty should be revered for his contributions to cinema, but he should also be acknowledged for his skills at comedy. In his knack for it, the man is near brilliant. Where did he prove this best? Believe it or not, Ishtar, one of the most underrated comedies of all time. Just watch the first half hour. Beatty's handsome, shrewd dark side, seen in films such as Lilith, is obscured by a perfectly timed, soft-spoken dumbbell act. He strains to think, he stumbles over words, but he tries so hard--especially when he belts out: "telling the truth can be dangerous business, if you don't know, then you don't know why." Beatty must have given more credence to this lyric than originally imagined. Telling the truth is dangerous business, and Beatty proves it in Bulworth, a political satire that offers an intriguing look at Beatty's sharp cynicism. Written, directed and produced by Beatty, Bulworth tells the story of a U.S. senator from California who becomes insanely depressed during his bid for re-election. Sick to death of his political rhetoric ("we stand at the doorstep of a new millennium"), Bulworth (Beatty) has a nervous breakdown and plots self-assassination. After pressuring a corrupt lobbyist (Paul Sorvino) into writing him a $10 million life insurance policy for his daughter, he hires a hit man (Richard Sarafian) to off him during his final campaign weekend. Then he meets Nina (Halle Berry), a beautiful and younger black woman. Bulworth is recharged by her realness and street-tough attitude. The senator sheds his old, crooked ways and starts anew by, shockingly, telling the truth. But he's still got a problem: a man is trying to kill him. Once we see where Bulworth is going, the picture branches into two stories, not always compatible. One is a biting comedy that lampoons white liberal dishonesty. In this story we have a man who, during a speech in a church packed with black supporters, says it is obvious the Democratic party doesn't care about African Americans. He asserts that they will never amount to anything if they don't put down their "chicken wings and malt liquor" and if they continue to support a "former running back who stabbed his wife." In defense of his candor he shrugs, "Hey, I'm just calling a spade a spade." But there is also a screwball love story that puts whitey in the hood. Here, he hangs with a group of under-age drug dealers, smokes weed, does coke and gets drunk at a black nightclub where he dances crazy style with Nina. Wearing baggy shorts, basketball shoes, a gold chain and a ski cap, Bulworth continues his campaign by rapping on national television--and gains popularity. It is inevitable that Bulworth's rushed, insane honesty (accompanied by Cypress Hill's "Insane in the Membrane") will lead to his downfall. But because the film often wanders into the Liar, Liar territory of dorky-but-funny comedy, it seems inappropriate when Bulworth falls so hard. Though Beatty is hilarious showing his new black consciousness, his comedic talent could have been bolstered even more by a sharper political wit. Faults aside, Bulworth is fascinating. Beatty is presenting blacks in a disadvantaged, urban milieu, but he isn't pandering to them as victims. He finds humor and relevance in the complex tension between the races. Beatty also perfects his "why are you looking at me?" stare. His comedic talent lies in his Dorian Gray ability to reflect through deflecting: We won't see how horrible the world is when we look into the Beatty's childish eyes, and even if we do, we won't care, because they are such nice eyes. The ugliness of his actions in Bonnie and Clyde, the selfishness of his hairdresser in Shampoo, the violence of his psychologist in Lilith and his horrible singing voice in Ishtar are all effectively made pretty, and Beatty is smart enough to know this. Don't discredit him because he's beautiful. |
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