Friday, September 13, 2013

***Films To While Away The Class Struggle By- The Halls Of Justice The Only Justice Is In The Halls- The Life and Hard Times Of Lenny Bruce


DVD Review

Lenny Bruce: Without Tears, Lenny Bruce and various commentators, directed by Fred Baker, New Titles Productions, 1972


Okay, the average black male kid on the average ghetto city block knows, and knows without blinking, and knows from some seemingly unspoken source deep within his genetic structure that the cards are stacked against. That the cops, the courts, or some other part of the “justice” system will, eventually, come knocking at the door or grab him off the street for something, usually dope. The average Latino male kid on the average barrio city now knows pretty much knows that same thing, again usually on some bogus drug charge. And nowadays even young black and Latina women are getting that same message coded into their psyches. What is not encoded is for a white, Jewish comic guy who has an off-beat sense of humor and has something to say, sometimes something profound to say to face that same music, anytime. That, my friends, is the Lenny Bruce story in a nutshell and forms the theme for this commentary.

Really, I could leave the headline, taken from something Lenny Bruce said when he was in deep and surreal legal trouble back in the 1960s, and that would tell the tale here. Nevertheless the case of one off –beat comic who tried to “go outside the envelope” of confines of safe, secure, no waves, post-World World II cultural expression is an object lesson for the rest of us. Being a little bit uppity, being a little too black or brown, or being a little too red will get you in more trouble than you can shake a stick at then, and now.

On viewing this documentary my first impression was “what is all the fuss about?” At the vantage point, forty or fifty years after the events, it is hard to see what the so-called moral police of the day got in a dither over in Bruce’s work. On any given day you can hear more lewdness, lunacy, and sheer vulgarity on “talk” radio or television than Lenny ever uttered. That, however, is the point. Lenny was the point man, the trenchant social critic cum comedian who was honored after the fact, but not while the heat was on.

One of the highlights of this documentary is Lenny Bruce performing in various venues interspersed with “talking head” commentary by those who knew or interviewed him. The most interesting one is with jazz critic and social activist, Nat Hentoff, when Lenny is deep in trouble and has physically been ravished by his struggle. Kenneth Tynan, of 1950s San Francisco poetic fame, and Malcolm Muggeridge add their somewhat bizarre two cents worth. As does Bruce fellow social critic, Mort Sahl.

Throwing out the above names and discussing the time frame of Bruce’s troubles brings one final point. Was Lenny, like Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burroughs and Tynan, part of the 1950s “beat” generation? Certainly he was part of the avant guarde back door jazz scene and miles in front of any one else in the Milton Berle/Sid Caesar 1950s comedy world. One of the commentators noted that Bruce was primarily an entertainer, a man trying to make a living at what he did best. That seems right. But whether he was “beat” or not, he certainly pushed the envelop. And that is part of his legacy, and worthy of honor by us.

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