TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/120291/1202420.000

Text File | 1992-08-28 | 4KB | 83 lines

                                                                                CINEMA, Page 86

A Brassy New Golden Oldie


By RICHARD SCHICKEL

FOR THE BOYS
Directed by Mark Rydell S
creenplay by Marshall Brickman, Neal Jimenez and Lindy Laub


    She's all bubble, bounce and ribald badinage. And, boy,
can she belt a song, especially ones from the age when people
wrote songs for stars to belt. It's tempting to call Bette
Midler a force of nature -- except there is nothing natural
about what she does. She's a living, breathing high concept, a
bundle of nerve and other people's conventions (a little Mae
West, a touch of Judy Garland, maybe all three Andrews Sisters
rolled into one). But if as a performer Midler conjures up an
older, bolder show-biz era, she doesn't nostalgize it. She gives
it a rude, shrewd yet affectionate twist, satirizing and
energizing it for contemporary audiences.

    You don't cast a creation like Midler -- you package her.
Or allow her to package herself, as she has in For the Boys,
which her company produced. Not surprisingly, Boys comes out a
lot like one of her songs, a slightly dislocating blend of
warmth and knowingness.

    The film, no less a golden oldie than most of those tunes,
is reminiscent of the kind of '40s and '50s musicals that
recounted the entire professional histories of show folk but
left plenty of room for production numbers. At its best, it
simultaneously evokes, subverts and transcends those sentimental
and celebratory pictures.

    The film traces the intertwining of an act from the first
meeting of singer-funny girl Dixie Leonard (Midler) and
song-and-dance man Eddie Sparks (James Caan) at a USO show in
wartime England to the final tribute to them as national
treasures. That treasurability derives from a willingness to
perform for U.S. troops wherever and whenever they are
embattled, and from the public's belief that despite the
couple's bickering, they really love each other.

    Maybe so, in their way. But how come they never married,
and slept together only once? Well, partly because she can't
help topping him onstage or in moral debate. It's hard to
cuddle up to all that brass. But also because he's tricky goods,
with one of those smeary little mustaches that signal
untrustworthiness and the kind of stage manner from which
unexamined overuse has drained both spontaneity and
authenticity. Even Eddie's devotion to the USO circuit is
suspect. His piety is a bit too hair-trigger, and there's always
a self-serving glint in his eye when he volunteers the duo for
hazardous duty. It's a way for an unlovable man to get love.

    Both performers are brave in their willingness to dig into
familiar show-biz types and critically, if often hilariously,
deconstruct their belovedness. They are also resourceful in the
ways they find to retain our affection. Good writing, in which
strong satire never breaks faith with emotional reality, helps
them. So do the easy stride of Mark Rydell's direction, covering
a variety of ground without shortness of breath, and a lively
supporting cast.

    But the crucial decision was to give the film an epic
scale. It encompasses 50 years, four continents and three wars,
not to mention the rise of TV, the ugliness of McCarthyism and
the horror of Vietnam. That spaciousness relieves the
claustrophobia that sometimes builds up after prolonged exposure
to larger-than-life figures (a particular danger when Midler is
bent on proving herself as a dramatic actress). For the Boys is
an ambitious film, but it wears its ambitions lightly and
lovably.