# Bulworth (1998)

### reviewed by
Mark O'Hara

    Bulworth (1998)

I can remember my teenage movie-going and the stars that shone the brightest. Clint Eastwood could always be counted on for a good two hours. Jack Nicholson won Best Actor for 1975 as Randal Patrick McMurphy in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," a film that aroused my young hate of injustice. Warren Beatty (along with Julie Christie) was cool in "Heaven Can Wait."

The fact that all of these professionals are not only still working, in late-middle-age, but winning awards and nominations (Eastwood's Oscar for "Unforgiven," Nicholson's for "As Good As It Gets," Christie's nod for "Afterglow," Beatty's statuette for "Bugsy") says a lot.

Mostly it tells of the importance of social issues in movies. Beatty especially has been taking jabs at human foibles for a long time. I wasn't a teen any longer when "Reds" was released; I was an English major who appreciated the rendering of journalist Jack Reed (and the featuring of Eugene O'Neill!), and who admired, with heady idealism, the importance of historical drama.

In "Bulworth," Beatty's attempts at satire are broad. His targets, his methods, his humor – all are as broad as the mouth of the caricature of Beatty used to advertise the film.

Jay Billington Bulworth, Democratic senator from California, is a cliché of a politician. Estranged wife. Businessmen buying his interests. At film's start we see him locked in his office, depression bearing down hard on him, surrounded by photographs from his career (one with Beatty from his "Shampoo" days is superimposed in a shot with Bobby Kennedy). What Bulworth does to emerge from the jaded funk is even more cliched – he commissions a hit on himself.

The bigger chunks of the film are more original, though. Of course the self-ordered murder motif surfaces throughout, but Beatty's handling of the falling and rising of Jay Bulworth makes for superior satire.

Beatty supposedly had full creative control – no studio honchos lurking on the set. This advantage seems to have made all the difference. Not many groups escape Bulworth's desperate, liberated tongue. Rushing through Los Angeles on a bid for re-election, he alienates African-Americans, Jews, the entire insurance industry. But it's refreshing, and as one might guess, his candor wins him votes.

Venturing into the world of three young African American women, Bulworth risks all respectability. Here Beatty succeeds: he has Bulworth go back to his political boyhood tricks, reading people's backgrounds and delivering on their wishes. Bulworth's knack for picking up on black slang and, Zelig-like, using it for his own survival, serves as one of the film's funnier running jokes. It was also chancy for Beatty to explore the underworld of rap, once again assuming the language and even the dress of a "homie." The result is a brilliant rendition of the contrasts of Americans who are black and white.

Halle Berry turns in a solid performance as Nina, one of the women the couldn't-care-less senator invites into his stretch limo. Berry almost underplays her character, a nice counterpoint to some of the conventional histrionics portrayed by other African American actresses. I wonder if Beatty will garner more controversy for his interracial relationship in the film, or for his winning a much younger woman. (Didn't Nicholson raise hackles when he won Helen Hunt in "As Good"?)

As Bulworth's chief of staff, Dennis Murphy (Oliver Platt) provides a good foil. Not in the evil sense, but in the politically advisable one. He is appalled when Bulworth self-destructs; yet he rallies and compensates hilariously. Platt delivers a biting send-up of behind-the-scenes hyposcrisy when, railing against his boss's tendencies, he snorts cocaine with another toady.

Can an actor direct the subtleties of his own performance as well as he can the performances of others? Mostly, Beatty's instincts take over and enable him to create a convincing character. Occasionally, however, Bulworth seems too silent, his eyes hooded in confusion. Granted, the man has neither eaten nor slept in three days, and he throws back a large dose of jetliner liquor; but even at his physical worst, Bulworth should be played as exhausted, not empty-headed.

Lately Americans have been treated to "Wag the Dog" and "Primary Colors," films as well-made and funny as "Being There," which I saw with my dad when I was in high school. Bulworth reminds us how important it is to hate injustice and inequality, as well as to embrace tolerance. In short, it reminds us of the important role of satire.

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