BELL TELLS
The Village Voice - December 1, 1975
By Arthur Bell

Bette Midler's stage presence has always been that of a generous yenta adrift in the sea pool at Central Park Zoo. Sometimes her capers are desperate and she tries too hard to reach out for attention by means outside her good nature and pleasant singing voice (as in her last appearance at the Continental Baths). At other times she's sharp and ebullient (as in her one-woman show at the Minskoff last spring). A lot depends on what's thrown into her mouth.

At last week's "Musical Salute to Ira Gershwin," someone threw the wrong fish.

I've criticized Bette's onstage shtick in these pages before, but let it be said that she was swell in "Clams on the Half Shell." I also like her records, and at one of her concerts she sang "Something to Remember You By" and choked me up. Offstage, she's always been friendly, funny, and irreverent. The irreverence is what's endearing. But onstage, that irreverence sometimes slips into sleaziness that's beyond the calculated - beyond bad taste and into ugly.

At the Ira Gershwin benefit she appeared at the tail end of the concert, joining the always horrendous Gotham in "A Sunny Disposish." She wore a butterfly catcher's outfit and safari helmet, and quickly went into her seal act. I can dismiss the remarks about not getting paid for performing at the benefit, though she didn't have to appear. I can dismiss her gobbled version of "My Cousin in Milwaukee" because melodically, there's not much to work from. I can dismiss her desire to make the show her own because she's about to embark on a tour that'll take her out of New York for three months, and it's wise to "leave that impresh." But I can't dismiss her methods of impressing, such as her flip quip that "Ira Gershwin never had to pay for it in his life." (Mrs. Gershwin had been introduced earlier from the audience; Ira himself had stayed in California, allegedly too ill to travel to New York.) In the context of the evening, it was like dumping ketchup on caviar. It continued when she sang "They Can't Take That Away From Me," distorting the melody and lyrics, contorting her body, making herself so physically grotesque it was as though she was having a wisdom tooth extracted without anesthesia.

Who's to blame? Is it her musical director, her comedy writers, Bette herself? Whoever, Bette was left there alone, flapping her fins - embarrassing for all concerned.

Bette's backhanded salute, however, didn't erase the memory of Dolores Gray belting "I Got Rhythm," Andre de Shields sinuating through "It Ain't Necessarily So" as if he had a pointed tail and horns, Anita Ellis (one of the best popular singers we have in this country) tearing the house down with "Someone to Watch Over Me," Larry Kert, Barbara Cook, and especially Kitty Carlisle Hart who sang "My Ship" as if she owned the Rotterdam. A salute to David Martin and the members of the American Musical and Dramatic Academy for putting the show together. But one last quibble, this of a political nature concerning Gotham. In all of their local club appearances, the group's humor, however infantile, has been completely gay oriented. They chose to play it straight for this benefit. Why? Bette Midler with her lapses, is never guilty of the double standard. Does Gotham equate prestige with straight?