Without You I'm Nothing

Film version of Sandra Bernhard's one-woman off-Broadway show is gaspingly pretentious. Sandra spoofs lounge acts and superstars, but her sense of irony is only fitfully interesting, and fitfully funny. Her fans will say she's scathingly honest, and that may be true. But she's also shrill, with an unapologetic, in-your-face bravado that isn't well-suited to a film in this genre. She doesn't want to make nice--and she's certainly not out to make friends--and that's always going to rub a lot of people the wrong way. But even if you meet her halfway, her material here is seriously lacking. Filmmaker Nicolas Roeg served as executive producer and, though not directed by him, the film does have his chilly, detached signature style all over it. Bernhard co-wrote the show with director John Boskovich; their oddest touch was in having all of Sandra's in-house audiences looking completely bored--a feeling many real viewers will most likely share. *1/2 from ****

Sandra Bernhard's Without You I'm Nothing, the movie released in 1990, followed on the heels of her 1988 off-Broadway stage production ... what she and others refer to in the movie as her "smash-hit one-woman show."

There were several changes in monologues and one-liners, and the movie version visually re-vamps the story, taking Sandra from a fabulous existence as a successful stage performer in New York, during what she calls her "superstar summer," to an illusory, almost desperate existence back in her home in Los Angeles - her fictional manager in the film refers to it as getting Sandra back "to her roots, to ... upscale supper clubs like the Parisian Room."

There's a point to be made here. Sandra tries to appeal her liberal worldview and her sometimes harsh critique of American pop culture to an audience that doesn't completely see it. In L.A. she's playing to a predominantly black audience, trying to relate her ideas when all these people seem to want is "Shashonna," a Madonna-look-alike stripper. And even then, with Shashonna dancing to drum beats that resemble those from "Like a Virgin," there's not much to be said for the audience's enjoyment of the show. The scene in the club throughout the movie is dryer than a bone. A funny scene to catch is of a rotund man from the audience helping Shashonna out of her pants.

But, if she's going down, Sandra's doing so with style and force, conveying everything from foul confidence to punctured vulnerability ... right to the point at which she's naked (literally), pleading for acceptance and yet somehow still swimming in the pool of her own transparent stardom. Her depictions of interactions with the likes of Calvin Klein, Jerry Lewis, Bianca Jagger, Ralph Lauren and (what we're lead to believe is) Warren Beatty are fictional and hilarious.

Sandra begins her show in her most awkward moment, performing a quiet but mystifying rendition of Nina Simone's song "Four Women" while dressed in a mufti and other African garb, singing lines such as "my skin is black," "my hair is wooly," and "they call me Sweet Thing."

She resurrects and celebrates the ghosts of underworld art in a tremendously funny description of the frenzied estate auction for Andy Warhol: "Leave it to Andy to have the wisdom and sensitivity into the hours and hours of toil and labor that went into the Indian product ... that they've been so lucky to cash in on this whole Santa Fe thing happening."

She expounds on the excessiveness of Hollywood, consoling a distraught friend then admonishing him, saying "Mister, if this is about Ishtar, I'm getting up right now and walking out of your life forever because that's too self-indulgent even for me!"

Sandra illustrates the expectations of women in the age of feminism. Dressed as a Cosmo girl, Sandra retells her young-girl fantasy to become an executive secretary and marry her boss. She eventually concludes in relief, "I'll never be a statistic, not me. I'm under 35, and I'm going to be married!"

Sandra extols the opening of sexuality in society: "When he touches you in the night, does it feel all right, or does it feel real? I say it feels real... MIGHTY real."

Finally, she cries for change in progressive American society by channeling disco greats Patrick Cowley and Sylvester and proclaiming, "Eventually everyone will funk!"

All this comes in the form of glitzy, schmaltzy but wonderful cabaret performances of songs written and originated by Billy Paul, Burt Bacharach, Hank Williams and Laura Nyro, to name a few. At the same time, the idealized, fictional incarnation of Sandra -- her self-generated mirror image -- floats around town, a beautiful black model with flowing gowns and tight bustiers reading the Kabala, studying chemistry and listening to NWA rap music.

In Without You I'm Nothing, Sandra Bernhard explores emotions and existences that, up until then, she'd only toyed with as a regular guest on Late Night With David Letterman. Her almost child-like enthusiasm for shock, exhibited throughout the '80s, is thrown aside in the face of a subtler allure, and her confidence in the face of materialism and American celebrity proves refreshing. This approach to comedy would change Sandra's direction forever and mark the more mature, more personable entertainer to come.

If you like subtle humor to the point of engaging in inside jokes about glamour, celebrity, sex, loneliness, despair and shallow expressions of love and kinship, this movie will keep you in stitches. It may not be meant to be funny across the board. Perhaps it's a bit unsettling or even maudlin for some. But consider the emptiness of the world Sandra paints for you, and you'll understand just how funny and brilliant she really is.

But see Without You I'm Nothing with a friend "in the know" because it's definitely funnier that way. Before you know it, the two of you will be trading Sandra barbs and confusing the hell out of everyone else.

Sandra's kick*** one-woman, off-Broadway show is made into a poor man's art house film: the result is a wildly uneven ride that contains some hilarious bits and is still more than worth a look.

Her performance in Scorsese's The King of Comedy will always be her best and she's without peer when appearing in front of a live audience; yet the depressed blues singer who unleashes her anger about her narcissistic hairdresser boyfriend, the growing-up-with-my-parents and the 'I'm straight, man!' monologues, and the sexy, in-your-face ending are wonderful bits that equal those aforementioned examples of her talent and wit.

She's not everybody's cup of tea to be sure but those who appreciate her sharp edge and straightforward style will be grateful this film exists. Now if we can get it out on DVD!

Sandra shows that she really has loads of talent in this quasi-concert film, a la Stop Making Sense.

She is too-hip-gotta-go in attitude, but this is part of her schtick. The revelation here is her voice - which is absolutely lovely. The band and musical arrangements are very cool, and slyly swinging.

The format of the film is very clever, and most of the pieces work wonderfully. When she announces that her true musical hero is Patti Smith any reservations I had crumbled, as they deserved to.

She certainly captures the irony of her title. The film is absolutely worth seeing . . .

Here's a movie version of Sandra Berhard's off-Broadway show.

Miss Bernhard is a talented and creative performer who has learned George Burns' advice: "Sincerity: if you can fake that, you've got it made". Miss Bernhard's show is a 90-minute testimony to show-biz insincerity, with its lightning mood changes, its self-absorption, and its striving to remain relevant by constantly associating with better-known individuals. Once you've cracked that particular attitude, this quickly becomes tiresome, despite the variety of songs and costumes,the brilliant studio cinematography by Joseph Yacoe (supervised, I strongly suspect, by executive producer Nicholas Roeg). All this is done in indictment, but even so, I grew weary soon enough. An hour would have been more than enough.

It's the movie debut of Djimon Hounsou.