Heidi Fleiss: Hollywood Madam

I've never "loved" anything that Nick Broomfield has done, but I certainly love him as a documentarian. He has a unique, and very obtrusive style of filmmaking that forces the viewer to follow his line of thinking. This, as one might surmise has advantages and disadvantages, and indeed the flaws in this otherwise fascinating documentary are mostly from his style.

On the other hand, it's a fitting style to use as he does his investigative reporting trying to get the inside scoop on the whole Heidi Fleiss affair, and just what exactly was going on between the cast of characters involved.

I haven't seen such a collection of manipulative, shady characters in one place in a very long time. It's particularly fun watching a former Madam and a former (or are they still together?) lover of Fleiss exchange insults and spin intricate lies about each other and their roles in her life.

Part of what allows this to come out is Broomfield's follow-up style. He interviews one person, then another, then often goes back to a previous interviewee to get their reaction to what someone else said. It's an inevitable, but still ingenious structure that helps to involve the viewer.

At the same time, there does come a point when all this lying becomes tiresome. But just when you think you've had enough, Broomfield finally scores an interview with Fleiss herself, which rather than clearing things up, only adds to the confusion. It's a wonderful scene, and true to form, things don't end there, as Broomfield once again returns to certain people to try and put the pieces together.

OVERALL SCORE: B

This is an odd documentary because, as a previous reviewer said here, you don't want to watch but you do. You're drawn in by director Nick Broomfield's smooth and ever-so-earnest British-style interviewing techniques while forgetting that he's talking to extremely unpleasant and even odious people (including Heidi Fleiss herself).

This Hollywood madam was apparently at the top of the heap in her 'profession,' and it's a tribute to her manipulative skills (I guess) that she was able to do it. She must also be a terrific actor: she looks at times like a wounded little girl, so it's hard to imagine how she was able to reach the 'top,' if that's the word. That's one of the keys to this woman's character, it seems to me: she is such a sleazy opportunist that she seems capable of talking herself into, or out of, anything. If this is true (and the evidence in this film would indicate that), how or why would we believe ANYTHING she says, including her more-or-less 'confessional' at the end? This is a hard-core, professional liar at work.

Fleiss is just one of a cast of people in this film who deliberately and systematically deceive each other, so much so that they have lost touch with what is, or isn't, truth. They no longer know where the line of truth is, and their own glaring self-deception is evident in Broomfield's camera.

You're left quite exhausted by the talking heads, and you realize that the documentary has little redeeming value -- we don't know anything more about who these characters REALLY ARE than when the film started.

In short, everyone is lying here, everyone is driving the viewer down a very convoluted series of rhetorical streets, everyone is playing that famous 'blame game'. What this film needs is some kind of resolution, some denouement. We don't get one, but we still watch. It's interesting to observe ourselves being manipulated by professional liars, and also interesting to see that director Broomfield emerges as a pretty nifty manipulator himself.

Those who take a look at this hoping for a wild romp thru a world of sex, drugs, big money, celebrities, and California sun-baked sleaze are in for a little surprise. Yes, there is some of that, but mostly this is a mind-boggling tale of screwy relationships and endless back-stabbing. Heidi Fleiss, the daughter of a liberal doctor and a prostitute turned madame, is at the center of this story. Her prosecution made headlines in the early 1990s, and this movie attempts to understand her and her labyrinthine relationships with sleazy charmers like elderly Madame Alex and second-rate producer-director Ivan Nagy. Broomfield and his crew do a good job of trying to come to grips with this odd, and very L.A., cast of characters, many of whom seem unable to not perform when a camera is turned on them. Interesting secondary characters pop up, like a shadowy underworld character named Cookie; L.A. police chief Darryl Gates, who accepts a nice cash sum before his interview; crooked top detective Mike B. (can't think of his name right now); and porn stars Ron Jeremy and Tisa. At the end, it is still not clear who has done what to whom and why, but you do have some insight into the dark side of the sunny Southland.

It's hard not to enjoy Heidi Fleiss, a work clearly superior to rote television sensationalism. Never fear, sensationalism is present in abundance and obviously drives the movie. Broomfield hops from madam to druggie to porn-star with gleeful excess, intent on shocking and disgusting as much as possible within the confines of broadcast-quality material. However, he tends to show us a little more, material that run of the mill documentarians wouldn't show. We see, for example, LA Chief of Police Daryl Gates accepting a surprisingly large sum of money for his appearance in the film, apparently unconcerned that he's being filmed doing so. Before interviewing a former porn actress about her connections with Heidi, he establishes the fact that she's appearing to get some quick cash to fund her drug habit. Bloomfield's obvious mean-spirited approach to each and every character - with the blatant exception of the fetishized Fleiss - leaves no room for casual viewer identification. Broomfield himself constantly appears to add to the sense that none of these people, including the filmmaker, spends their time doing kind, humane things. The two people suggested as major influences on Fleiss's road to ruin would make an ideal harpie and Cyclops. Elderly Madam Alex, who died shortly after her scenes were shot, gossips rampantly for two visits but starts cursing Broomfield out when he refuses to pay for follow-up visits. Possibly not entirely evil Ivan Nagy, writer/director of a number of unimpressive features, does all he can to convince Broomfield's cameraman (when Broomfield's not having any of it) that he's just a good guy and could never have done all the things proven to be true about him. Victoria Sellers - Peter and Britt Ekland's daughter - grants Broomfield an interview right out of rehab, clearly at the end of her rope. Conceptually, this all would be difficult to absorb due to the daunting amount of pain all these people are going for, but Broomfield's nasty spirit finds a way to make it all fun. Always welcome porn star Ron Jeremy appears in a sleazy hotel room.

Intrepid documentarian Nick Broomfield looks to uncover the real story behind the notorious Hollywood Madam Heidi Fleiss in this fascinating, repellent film.

Broomfield is, as usual, totally fearless, and uses his oh-so upright British bearing ("I'm doing a piece for the BBC")to mask the fact that he's a complete gutter-crawling slimebag, able to hold court with the sleaziest characters imaginable. At first, Fleiss won't grant Broomfield an interview (she is arrested for violating her probation shortly after he arrives in Los Angeles) so he pursues her friends and associates with tunnel-vision tenaciousness.

All the neon slime is on display here: pimps, hookers, adult film stars, drug dealers, crooked cops, shady figures of all shapes and sizes. Broomfield goes after them all without fear.

The two people he spends the most time with are Madam Alex, a creepy old-world crone from Hungary who controlled the Hollywood flesh trade before Heidi stole it from her, and Ivan Nagy, a smiling, brutish pimp-drug-dealer-movie-director (also Hungarian) and Heidi's ex-boyfriend who also (supposedly) was the one who narc'd on her to the police. The two spend their time on camera telling wild, half-baked stories and making accusations against each other that criss-cross and contradict so often that eventually it becomes clear that they ARE ALL lying to some degree.

Fleiss does finally give Broomfield an interview and she comes off quite well. Intelligent, lively, and a keen observer of human nature, she clearly is no dunce, although its tough to believe she could actually go toe-to-toe with either Nagy or Alex.

In the end, because he's on screen so much and is such a persistent presence, "Hollywood Madam" is more about Broomfield and his relentless desire to get at the truth than anything. At times, one can only marvel at the audacity of this guy: whether badgering known drug-dealers and pimps until they all but plead with him to GO AWAY, or making what amounts to crank calls to an underworld enforcer (and possible ex-Moussad hit man) Broomfield walks through it all with a zeal it is hard not to admire.