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 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.