BULWORTH

Bulworth, Warren Beatty's passionate, incisive inquiry into the current state of American politics and race relations, is not the sort of movie one generally expects to see up on a thousand or more screens in the middle of the summer. But up there it is, a bit like a rambling party guest who's figured out what's wrong with the country and doesn't mind telling you-a guest, in fact, not unlike Jay Billington Bulworth himself, the California politician whose drug and alcohol-fueled pre-election odyssey is at the heart of this extravagantly un-summery film.

'We stand at the doorstep of a new millennium,' goes the first line of Senator Bulworth's clich-riddled stump speech, but, in actuality, this flawed character, played by Beatty himself, is on the doorstep of a nervous breakdown. Faced with an impending Democratic party primary, Bulworth is an incumbent unraveling, a '60s liberal entering an emotional and psychological free fall. Jettisoning the 'new millennium,' Bulworth embraces the notion of dual suicide-speaking the unvarnished truth, as he sees it, to the electorate, and taking out a contract on his own life.

Comforted by the notion of a hitman out there with orders to shoot him, Bulworth, paradoxically, begins to live, exploring black urban culture in the company of Nina (Halle Berry), the daughter of a Black Panther, who guides him into a world he's never really seen. Assuming a kind of middle-aged white man's rap persona, the ever-spiraling candidate comes to realize that the 'new millennium' isn't available for everyone, least of all for those who need it most. 'Call it single-payer/Or the Canadian way/Only socialized medicine/Can save the day,' Bulworth raps, to the dismay of his political handlers, who see the Senate seat vanishing with each tortured rhyme.

Hollywood-studio movies advocating socialism are something of a rarity, but Beatty's positioning of Jay Bulworth as an amiable loose-cannon visionary-at times, the character recalls the Peter Finch 'mad as hell' anchorman in Network-tempers the message somewhat. All the same, Bulworth is a film that swerves to the left of conventional liberalism, viewing, as it does, corporate America and Congress pretty much as corrupt institutions which, Beatty seems to suggest, ought to be paying more attention to hip-hop culture. For Bulworth, in the throes of his suicidal lost weekend, hip-hop takes on a kind of redemptive power, something that, coupled with a relationship with Nina, could give him a new lease on life, if only that damned hitman wasn't out there.

Beatty, who, along with directing and starring in the movie, wrote the original story, co-wrote the screenplay, and co-produced it (he probably worked as a Foley walker when no one was looking), plays the likeable but maddening Bulworth as though he had prepared for this part all his acting life. Sheepish, charming, boyish, scary, this unelectable lawmaker is a piece of work, and watching other characters respond to him, particularly those in the black community, gives the film a very amusing edge. Dressed in his idea of a 'homey' outfit, Bulworth looks like some drugged-out, sixtyish frat boy who fell into a laundry basket of Tommy Hilfiger knockoffs. But strange and 'white' as they are, the Senator's raps connect to genuine concerns: 'There's a time when every homey got to risk his neck and fight/For the thing that he believe in and he gotta preach it right.' At times, Beatty actually makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

Beatty the director has assembled a first-rate cast, including Oliver Platt, who does a fine comic turn as Bulworth's much-put-upon political operative, and Don Cheadle, riveting in the key role of a patriarchal drug dealer in South Central. The stunning Berry turns in a substantial performance, too, one which intensifies as Nina witnesses Bulworth's transformation and comes to respect his convictions. Bulworth unfolds at an appropriately lively pace and veteran Bertolucci cinematographer Vittorio Storaro gives the movie a gritty-textured elegance, which is nicely complemented by a state-of-the-art soundtrack featuring rap and classical scoring, courtesy of Ennio Morricone.

--Ed Kelleher