BulworthWhen I was a kid, I remember seeing the poster for Bulworth, and didn't really know just what was going on in that image; now I do, and its message is as simple as it is obvious: open your mouth and let all the ugly truth pour forth. And the key word here is "truth", because politics and truth rarely walk hand in hand, and that is the crucial message in Bulworth. Every election, candidates run who promise to improve the American people's station in life. But they speak not to the genuine fears and needs of the American people; they weigh their responses against focus groups and Gallup Polls--but not for Senator Jay Billington Bulworth (Warren Beatty)...not anymore.
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Bulworth is set amid the political backdrop of the 1996 election between Bill Clinton and Bob Dole, although it primarily concerns the re-election campaign of Senator Bulworth, a Democratic incumbent whose platform has changed over the years from radical social concern to doing the bidding of special interests. On a dark and stormy night in Washington D.C., Bulworth watches his tired political ads for re-election, espousing moderate, even safe promises and virtues, and weeps. Bulworth weeps because he understands that his lofty ambitions have fallen to the wayside, as he has been molded into a cookie cutter cog in the political machine, out of touch with what gave him the passion to enter politics: to make a difference. His walls are adorned with the faces of his predecessors, faces like Bobby Kennedy, reminders of how he has drifted into being just another shill in a three-piece suit. For Bulworth, his integrity is dead, so he resigns himself to a scheme to have himself assassinated, and have the money from a massive life insurance policy gifted to a daughter we never see. It would be a whimper of an end for the life of Senator Bulworth; but his fate is to go out with a bang. Bulworth hasn't slept or eaten in days, and the result of this is that ultimately his inhibitions fall away one by one. As he returns to his home state of California, to drum up press among the African-American constituency in a church in South-Central Los Angeles, his tired speech about the "turn of the millennium" gives way, as does the final threshold keeping his responses on a safe, moderate keel. When confronted by the churchgoers about his failures to deliver on his campaign promises, he retorts with frank--even shocking--assertions about race and how the Democratic party can afford to take black voters for granted. Followed around by a camera crew from C-SPAN, it is far removed from the calculated, moderate persona which gives voters the impression of a professional politician...but it is the beginning of a gospel more dedicated to the proposition of truth above decorum. For when Bulworth is faced with his impending death, he finds that he no longer has any fear of the consequences, and "tells it like it is", a message which--while shocking to the power elite--ends up engendering him to the common man more and more, particularly with the African-American community, tired of feeling ill-used and forgotten after backing yet another candidate who promptly forgets them once in office. And before long, Bulworth's sense of worth is renewed; he finds himself supported by a constituency he had long since forgotten about, and now has to try to reverse his own assassination attempt while delivering his uniquely profound message. I couldn't help but notice in the opening credits that Frank Capra III is credited as an assistant director, as Bulworth reminds me of films directed by his grandfather--such as It's a Wonderful Life--as Bulworth finds his passion for life by embracing something he has lost sight of--or Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, as Bulworth also is forced to confront the ruling power in America single-handedly, forcing them to own up to their responsibilities to "The People".
It's impossible to watch Bulworth today and not be reminded of the impending election in 2016--twenty years after the one portrayed in the film--and consider what has changed...and what hasn't; what issues remain at the forefront of campaign promises and upon contenders' lips. Race is an indelible part of Bulworth, and there is a clear sense that black voters are disenfranchised from the world of politics, treated like a number to be manipulated in an election, pushed around with idle promises of health care reform, economic revitalization, and, as Bulworth puts it, "that dirty word...'socialism'!" Watching Bulworth is like watching a primer for politics today. One has only to turn on cable news, and see how some candidates have turned the "guy speaking the truth" approach into a platform in and of itself, even if the nature of "truth" is in turn just another way to milk the crowd, one more Machiavellian turn. Bulworth is special in this regard; even if the message is unpopular, it is clear that the reason there are no genuine "Bulworths" is because it is not in the interests of those in positions of finance. Were a political candidate to emerge today, espousing a message like Bulworth's, it would never make it on the air past all the carefully screened filters and broadcast sentinels. I think that's what makes Bulworth regrettably a case of political escapism, rather than a herald of honesty in politics. One of my favorite scene compositions in Bulworth takes place on the stage for his debate with his opponent, and his cronies--desperate to silence his apparent implosion--kill the spotlight on him, casting him as a silhouette. Here, Bulworth might be any political candidate we can think of, but the crucial detail is that he is speaking the truth, telling it like it is about the "game" that is the American economy and the special interests manipulating it all. The consensus among those who work for Bulworth is that he is losing it; on the contrary, he is finding himself, gaining back a part of his identity which has long since been imprisoned behind his persona molded for mass consumption. He gets in touch with the black community of South-Central by mingling with them in a club, partying away, adopting and absorbing the mindset. He meets a young, determined woman named Nina (Halle Berry), who offers him refuge at her house in the ghetto, and even a new set of clothes while his suit is being cleaned, an outfit which is a stark contrast from his media appearance, a transformation emerging like The Incredible Hulk. And from here, Bulworth returns to the stage for a television interview, where he is prompted to discuss his new "campaign strategy" and his recent proliferation of "obsenity". In response, he delivers a long rap slam about "the state of the union", incorporating elements from his conversations about the welfare of black people today from Nina and a drug dealer named "L.D." (Don Cheadle) since he has the ear of America, while his political peers are struck aghast in freeze-frame at his full disclosure. This moment in particular reminds me of the conclusion of Charlie Chaplin's own political satire, The Great Dictator, which ends with the "little tramp" effectively speaking directly to the audience about the futility of war and strife. Would that we could see past his shades, I suspect Warren Beatty would be looking right at the camera...right at us. Uncle Bulworth wants you...to keep it real.
Recommended for: Fans of a political comedy about the absurdity of the airs upon which politicians present themselves, and the hypocrisy of a government elect, which promises to serve America, but only serves themselves. Truth can be a powerful weapon in the hands of someone not afraid to use it.
It's impossible to watch Bulworth today and not be reminded of the impending election in 2016--twenty years after the one portrayed in the film--and consider what has changed...and what hasn't; what issues remain at the forefront of campaign promises and upon contenders' lips. Race is an indelible part of Bulworth, and there is a clear sense that black voters are disenfranchised from the world of politics, treated like a number to be manipulated in an election, pushed around with idle promises of health care reform, economic revitalization, and, as Bulworth puts it, "that dirty word...'socialism'!" Watching Bulworth is like watching a primer for politics today. One has only to turn on cable news, and see how some candidates have turned the "guy speaking the truth" approach into a platform in and of itself, even if the nature of "truth" is in turn just another way to milk the crowd, one more Machiavellian turn. Bulworth is special in this regard; even if the message is unpopular, it is clear that the reason there are no genuine "Bulworths" is because it is not in the interests of those in positions of finance. Were a political candidate to emerge today, espousing a message like Bulworth's, it would never make it on the air past all the carefully screened filters and broadcast sentinels. I think that's what makes Bulworth regrettably a case of political escapism, rather than a herald of honesty in politics. One of my favorite scene compositions in Bulworth takes place on the stage for his debate with his opponent, and his cronies--desperate to silence his apparent implosion--kill the spotlight on him, casting him as a silhouette. Here, Bulworth might be any political candidate we can think of, but the crucial detail is that he is speaking the truth, telling it like it is about the "game" that is the American economy and the special interests manipulating it all. The consensus among those who work for Bulworth is that he is losing it; on the contrary, he is finding himself, gaining back a part of his identity which has long since been imprisoned behind his persona molded for mass consumption. He gets in touch with the black community of South-Central by mingling with them in a club, partying away, adopting and absorbing the mindset. He meets a young, determined woman named Nina (Halle Berry), who offers him refuge at her house in the ghetto, and even a new set of clothes while his suit is being cleaned, an outfit which is a stark contrast from his media appearance, a transformation emerging like The Incredible Hulk. And from here, Bulworth returns to the stage for a television interview, where he is prompted to discuss his new "campaign strategy" and his recent proliferation of "obsenity". In response, he delivers a long rap slam about "the state of the union", incorporating elements from his conversations about the welfare of black people today from Nina and a drug dealer named "L.D." (Don Cheadle) since he has the ear of America, while his political peers are struck aghast in freeze-frame at his full disclosure. This moment in particular reminds me of the conclusion of Charlie Chaplin's own political satire, The Great Dictator, which ends with the "little tramp" effectively speaking directly to the audience about the futility of war and strife. Would that we could see past his shades, I suspect Warren Beatty would be looking right at the camera...right at us. Uncle Bulworth wants you...to keep it real.
Recommended for: Fans of a political comedy about the absurdity of the airs upon which politicians present themselves, and the hypocrisy of a government elect, which promises to serve America, but only serves themselves. Truth can be a powerful weapon in the hands of someone not afraid to use it.