Without You I'm Nothing

At the time I recall being quite startled and amused by this movie. I referred to it as the most important movie I'd seen in ten years, and found myself bumping into people who said similar things.

Bernhard has an unusually perceptive behavioral notebook. And she has shaped the bitter adolescent personality that we all had, into a corrosive, adult world-view. The two together provide a startling mix which may be too edgy for some viewers. (Hi Skip. I wish you weren't my brother so I could **** you!)

Bernhards search for herself after returning to LA from New York, results in the immersive trying-on of various personas (all of which fit poorly) for our amusement, but enough of them involve acting out to appeal to a "black imperative" values system that the real barometer of her resituation is whether black culture accepts her. (It's been a while. Nina Simone comes to mind. And she has an impressive, solidly-built black lover in the movie) A pretty black girl attends the shows, and seems to be authorizing Sandra's faux-blackness, but ultimately rejects her.

Just as Catholics deem themselves lucky to suffer for Christ, here Sandra depicts herself suffering at the hands of a black culture in which she craves a place; as if she cherishes her worthiness and her rejection. It's the only value system implicated in the films world, outside of Bernhards arty confusion.

For a nation whose chief issues are racism and money, it's refreshing to see one of the 2 topics dealt with in an atypical way.

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.

My review was written in April 1990 after a Midtown Manhattan screening.

Sandra Bernhard's screen adaptation of her one-woman show is a rigorous, experimental examination of performance art that's of interest to film scholars but packs precious little entertainment value for either general audiences or her fans.

Stepping back from comedy per se, Bernhard and her collaborator, director John Boskovich, have fashioned a remote, self-absorbed and often cryptic picture. Solemn tone and ambiguity as to Bernhard's point-of-view smothers the humor of her often on-target material.

Most ambitious device here is a failure: except for brief interstitial footage of "witnesses", such as Steve Antin (as himself) or Lu Leonard (portraying Bernhard's managers) addressing the camera, film unfolds in performance on stage at a large, ersatz night club before a predominantly black audience. Crowd reacts only with silent, quizzical expressions or files out apparently not enjoying the show.

This gimmick scrupulously avoids the canned "live audience" of performance films or tv specials, but results in distancing Bernhard's act. In turn, she plows through her monologs without any pauses (for laughs) or interaction. Result is an over-rehearsed routine lacking in any spontaneity.

The "You" of the title refers to the audience. The film's in-joke putdown of the audience reverberates all too literally on the performer as the title says.

Irony is that Bernhard has her film in a quasi-jazz milieu, reinforced by excellent musical accompaniment throughout by jazz pianist Patrice Rushen (an attractive performer who oddly is represented on screen by a stand-in). Improvisation by the star is nowhere evident, however.

Though she has several white targets for her sarcasm, notably friend Madonna (poorly carboned by a platinum-haired dancer), Andy Warhol, Patti Smith, Barbra Streisand and Jodie Foster (latter's co-star in "The Accused" Antin is present for this purpose), Bernhard cryptically emphasizes a black motif throughout the pic.

Though not donning blackface makeup for obvious reasons, she portrays several black characters, starting with Aunt Sarah ("my name is Peaches") in a dashiki; then a composite satire of greats ranging from Sarah Vaughn to Carmen McRae in her mannered rendition of "Me & Mrs. Jones"; a boring carbon of mid-career Diana Ross, with slicked-down hairdo.

Her lover Joe in a simulated sex scene is black, and most cryptic of all there is a black dream woman, who silently wanders around in random footage outdoors, in a science lab. Film ends with this beautiful woman as the only audience member left watching Bernhard's striptease dance.

Pic's highlight underscores the material's emphasis on role-playing and androgyny: a 1978-set "I Feel Real" monolog/song with Bernhard pretending to be two guys in a disco, one of whom gets turned on by black man and come out of the closet. With helmer Boskovich letting loose his camera for once from its slow, monotonous pirouetting, scene is a showstopper. There's also a cute but padded disco number "Do You Wanna Funk with Me?".

Elsewhere, Bernhard's singing is mediocre, and there's far too much of it. Endless finale has her making fun of Prince and his entourage with a tired rendition of "Little Red Corvette", segueing to her4 exotic dance parodying strippers on New York's cable access tv show "The Robin Byrd Show". Byrd appears nude in a cameo shower scene opposite the covered-up black woman. The quick wit and audience rapport Bernhard displays as a guest on Byrd's show would have been preferable.

Besides Rushen, there are guest spots for talented jazz singer Diane Reeves and drummer Terri Lyne Carrington. Tech credits asr modest for an evidently low budget MCEG production.

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!

I cant believe how few people posted comments!? (original post June 2005) Thats just shows that not many people care about this film...and thats sad. I had the privilege to see her perform her 1 woman show LIVE w-a-a-a-y back in1988 (or so? i cant remember) and it was HYSTERICAL!!!! She is a fantastic writer and stand up comic. The live audience laughter was infectious and I remember thinking she was a brilliant performer. But somehow seeing the same monologues performed on film spoken in a smoky Jazz nightclub to a less than enthusiastic crowd of actors (who probably had a very hard time keeping a straight face) was just not as funny. Sandra If you read this PLEASE PERFORM THIS SHOW LIVE AGAIN. IT'S TIME. or maybe you have. I'm going to look out for you more now.

(POST UPDATE: Film is being shown at OUTFEST Los Angles July 2009 YAY!!!).