Screen Scene

[1992. Directed by Ousmane Sembène. Cast Mame Ndoumbe Diop, Thierno Ndiaye, Ndiawar Diop. In Wolof and French with English Subtitles. New Yorker Films. 115 mins.] One of the world's greatest directors, Ousmane Sembène also remains one of Africa's foremost committed political artists. Sembène's best films- "Mandabf (1969), "Xala" (1974), and "Ceddo" (1977) - have an uncompromising intelligence that cuts equally left and right without regard to ideology or social fashion.

With "Guelwaar," Sembène has supplied just enough sugar to entice his audience before they realize he has trapped them in an enthralling political assassination that redounds upon the film's original premise. For Sembène has struck again, and like a master musician whose chromatic interpretation sustains a deceptively complex melody, he wraps black comedy, neocolonialism, third-world charity, AIDS, nationalism, feminism, and religious bigotry in a cleveriy written allegory of modem Senegal that s as suspenseful and entertaining as it is humorous.

Christian village patriarch Pierre Henri Thioune (Thiemo Ndiaye) - nicknamed "Guelwaar" or "noble one" - has been mysteriously beaten to death and his far-flung children have come home to particípate in his burial. Eldest son Barthélémy (Ndiawar Diop) has come from Paris, and daughter Sophie (Marie-Augustine Diatta) has come from Dakar. Together with youngest son Aloys (Moustapha Diop), they have rallied around their mother (Mame Ndoumbe Diop), and joined in the village's grief over their famed father's death.

It is only on the morning of the funeral that it is discovered Guelwaar's body has accidentally been released by the mortuary to a Muslim neighbor and has been buried in an Islamic graveyard. When the Christian village elders attempt to redress this error, the townsfolk are torn apart by their religious prejudices. Thus even in death, Guelwaar has roused the passions of his fellow citizens and family.

What's most surprising about this concise black comedy is Sembène's ability to comment upon universal social and political issues while steadfastly focusing his film upon the microcosm of a seemingly isolated incident. Bureaucratic red tape, family conflicts, and religious factionalism are mingled together effortlessly to reveal each of these absurdities' prejudices.

It is only with the final confrontation of the two clans and the uneasy mediation of their religious and political leaders that Sembène's allegory of modem Africa begins to draw its disparate threads together. Through an exalted cry of Senegalese pride, Sembène's characters find themselves confronted with their foibles. That they ultimately draw individual strength from their collective weaknesses proves to be Guelwaar"s lasting legacy to his people.

Through Sembène's cunningly clever characterization of nascent African nationalism caught in its historical crossroads between colonialism and provincialism - religion and prejudice, ennui and integrity - "Guelwaar" proves itself to be a very wise film created by a very wise filmmaker. That the film is also immensely enjoyable is merely the extra dollop of genius that a superior craftsman imparts to his art. "Guelwaar" easily ranks with Sembène's finest work.

DAVE [1993. Directed by Ivan Reitman. Cast: Kevin Kline, Sigourney Weaver, Frank Langella, Ben Kingsley. Warner Bros. Films Wamer Bros. Home Video. 110 mins.]

Poorly written leading men - at least when it comes to Hollywood - are not a rare commodity. Indeed, sometimes poorly written leading characters are considered an asset in a movie because it makes it all the more difficult to grasp where the failure of the screenplay lies. What's all the more amazing is that otherwise sophisticated audiences will buy into such sophomoric caricatures.

This complaint hits "Dave" square between the eyes. The creators of this depressingly (and consistently) negligent piece of off-election year tripe apparently thought they'd figured every angle for this anti-Mr. Smith (Goes to Washington). They just conveniently forgot to add one crucial ingredient to the mix - a plausible hero to accompany a plausible story.

The basic conceit of this pseudo-black comedy is that Baltimore nobody, Dave Kovic, who occasionally doubles as the President, would end up grabbing the brass ring upon being given the inadvertent chance. When the smarmy Numero Uno, President Bill Mitchell, tums up a stiff - flagrant delictono less - his power-hungry Chief of Staff, Bob Alexander, homswoggles our lovable schnook into playing world leader until the White House can come up with a suitably plausible "plan B."

Written somewhere between Cesare Borgia and H.R. Halderman (although bearing an uncanny resemblance to a young Lloyd Bentsen); Alexander's coup d'état depends upon knuckle-headed Dave to be a willing pawn in his unscrupulous plot to subvert the American political system. But what this usurper of power hadn't counted upon, however, is that our bumbling hero would ultimately develop a social conscience and want to help "the little people," thereby setting up a power conflict which exposes the villain in his malodorous depravity.

This desperate (if not also predictably politically correct) cliché peters out the plot from here. Unbelievably - or maybe more precisely, understandably, given the dearth of genuine comedies out there in California right now - "Dave" gamered an Academy Award nomination for original screenplay at this year's Oscar ceremonies. Preston Sturges has to be rolling in his McGinty grave.

Through it all, Frank Langella's take on Alexander as a Gucci-wrapped whiplash drunk on power is a delightful blaze of malevolent energy. It's only unfortunate that Kevin Kline has decided to play his President Dave as slightly better than dim-witted.

Dave Kovic has no snap-sparks would be too much to ask for- and Wine's presence is really no more than a narcissistic turn by an actor who can do better than this performance indicates.

Sigourney Weaver, bless her red, white and blue populist heart, tries mightily to pump some life into her improbable scenes as First Lady Ellen Mitchell. But it does take a duo to tango and Kline's Presidential klutz is only a club for a foot. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Ben Kingsley looks suitably embarrassed for having taken the producer's money in what amounts to a cameo appearance as a "decent" Vice-President Nance who's even more of a square than our forthright Chief impostor.

Lest intelligence gets in the way of a film that apparently hasn't any idea of how the succession of Presidential powerworks, "Dave" sends up the whole American political process during his only State-of-the-Union address.

Not a bad premise, but surely somebody involved with film might have thought in terms of subtlety. Why not have the impostors embarrass the nation as Kovic addresses the General Assembly of the United Nations? After all, didn't Nikita Khrushchev once get a lot of mileage out of a gig there?

The basic problem that this film poses is simple: How can you root for a movie whose depiction of the American government is moronic?

Isn't what happens in the nation's Capitol bad enough? Don't we watch movies to escape life anymore? Or then again, perhaps we shouldn't grouse and chalk up "Dave" under the heading of a laugh's a laugh?

No, this isn't quite right.

Because the joke is ultimately on Langella for creating a compelling villain in a film that desperately needs an equally compelling hero. His Bob Alexander, like other notable Washingtonites in recent memory, is left alone to twist slowly in the wind.

After sitting through "Dave," one gets the feeling this movie would have been infinitely more interesting if the make-believe bad guys had won for once. Heaven knows the win-loss ratio on the real Capitol Hill is a lot worse.