I was introduced to comedian Lenny Bruce for the first time while watching the mostly pointless, but entertaining, 2005 documentary Fuck. Somehow, I had never heard of him. Eighteen years of my life passed me by without knowing he ever existed. The documentary didn’t really do anything to tell me why that should change, either. It told me he was a comedian, he told dirty jokes, and he had a sad story. So what? That spare information sounds like it could make for a sort of “umbrella-biopic” for most comedians. Now I have seen Bob Fosse’s excellent film Lenny, which might not be a perfectly thorough biography, but it is vigorous in dramatizing the importance of his career, and passionate in telling the tragedy of his life.
He was a pioneer. He was absurd, surreal, satirical, and most significantly, obscene. He attacked the subjects of race, American culture, politics, sexuality, and popular culture with wit and an acid tongue potent enough to burn a hole right into the heart of the entertainment world. That hole was big enough for the likes of George Carlin and Paul Krassner to crawl through, which opened it even wider for contemporaries like Bill Hicks, David Cross, and Jon Stewart. Stand up comedy was a far more conservative world before performers like Lenny Bruce were brave enough to experiment with material considered private or shameful, and speak on it openly in common language. He might be better known for his obscenity trials (over speaking words like “cocksucking,” the use of which he brilliantly deconstructs in the film), but we can also see how his informal and subversive political material paved the way for Politically Incorrect and The Daily Show.
The film, shot spectacularly in black and white, reproduces much of Lenny’s life and many of his famous bits with stunning authenticity. Perhaps it was Fosse’s documentary-style interviews, with cast members in character, mixed into the fictionalized narrative that aided this incredible feat. It’s a strange move, but rather than distract from the efforts of the players to create their world, it firmly reinforces it. The characters seem so lived-in, thanks to the always-brilliant Dustin Hoffman, and real-life burlesque dancer-turned-film-actor Valerie Perrine, the film is almost slice-of-life.
What surprised me most is how the movie seemed to grow funnier as it moved along. We see Bruce at the earliest days of his career, and he is quite awful (an apparently fabricated aspect of the film, according to film historian Julie Kirgo), but once he started making me laugh, I laughed harder and harder until a shockingly sad climax arrived. What a brilliant move to increase the audience’s admiration of his talent, until that bubble bursts just as it reach critical mass. It’s a troubling end to a troubled guy. He wasn’t perfect, but we see a moral code being developed as we see more of his material throughout the film.
He was never politically correct, but he was almost always right. He has some outdated and narrow-minded opinions on relationships and gender roles. I suppose even the most liberal thinkers of 1960 had some evolving to do. He is also depicted as being a little on the sociopathic side, in practically forcing Valerie Perrine’s character to have a threesome (with another woman), then turning on her when she “enjoyed it too much.” That, according to Kirgo, was also synthesized into the story of Lenny Bruce (she says Bob Fosse’s biography was often slipping into this film). These little creative additions don’t do much for his legacy, but they certainly make for an intriguing drama.
THE PACKAGE
Booklet Insert: With another fine write-up by Julie Kirgo
Isolated Score Track
Commentary Track: By Julie Kirgo, and fellow film historian Nick Redman! A great listen. The two critics have some good rapport and great incites.
Original Theatrical Trailer
