Waldo Lydecker - Time Out Magazine (UK) - 1993

This article describes a press conference held at the Cannes Film Festival of 1992 with Abel Ferrara, Zoë Lund, Harvey Keitel, and Bad Lt. producer Ed Pressman. It shows that not everyone "gets" the point of the film.

"Waldo Lydecker" is a pseudonym for writer Geoff Andrew, notorious for his hatred of Abel Ferrara's films. The "Lydecker" column has often been used as a cover to say insulting things about people.

(Thanks to British writer Brad Stevens for the article and background information on "Waldo".)

Normally, Waldo is far too aloof --- or sozzled -- to attend press conferences, but the current media coverage of Abel Ferrara's 'Bad Lieutenant' reminds him of one such event he graced with his presence at last year's Cannes festival. The reasons for making this exception were twofold; firstly, so shocked was your clean-living scribe by the film's sleazy profanity that he could not resist the temptation of seeing how Ferrara and his collaborators -- star Harvey Keitel, producer Ed Pressman and co-writer/actress Zoë Lund -- might attempt to defend their creation; secondly, such was Ms Lund's pre-screening appearance, in startlingly tight leopard skin outfit, that he felt duty bound to inspect her from closer quarters. A mistake on both counts: in close up, Ms Lund's beauty revealed itself to be somewhat faded; while the group's justification of their sordid little movie was so incoherent as to leave Waldo entirely unconvinced by their arguments.

In truth, your scribe should perhaps use the word 'argument' in its other sense, since the conference MC was clearly miffed by Mr Ferrara's generally unhelpful mood and took him to task both for failing to answer the hacks' questions and for frequently interrupting his colleagues' replies. Indeed, while Keitel apparently views it as an anti-drugs statement, the on-stage demeanour of Ferrara and Lund tended to suggest that they might regard the movie's extended scenes of crack and heroin abuse as some sort of celebratory documentary. The director offered barely any words of interest or clarity, preferring instead to bare his teeth, scratch his nose, and giggle madly at the vaguely insulting remarks he tossed at the audience; Lund, meanwhile, having tottered on stage to treat the occasion as an opportunity to flaunt her artistic seriousness, babbled on at great speed about all manner of philosophical matters.

For example, asked by one journo 'what the fuck' the film was all about, Lund elucidated that Keitel's corrupt and drug-crazed cop was 'going down as far as he could to go up; he was transgressing in a mission to discover I don't know what. But ultimately he rose to the challenge. It was an odyssey, pushing the envelopes, until he was faced with a terminal choice.' Then, after Keitel explained that he didn't want to discuss the film at all, the actress felt moved to pontificate further: 'Dostoevsky said, once you know it's good to be good, you're not lost. That's a lot to do with this film. You have one chance to do it, with a capital I, whatever that it is.'

At this stage, since the only person making any sense at all -- the sober, dark-suited Pressman -- was looking embarrassed and generally keeping mum, the hacks were visibly tiring of Lund's somewhat airheaded domination of the proceedings, and tried to get Ferrara on to the subject of whether he felt there was a specifically New York sensibility to his work. But no sooner had he replied, 'Yeah, definitely,' than his co-writer was off again. LT is the bad lieutenant's name: the whole thing is like a mystery play. In that sense, it's universal. I love New York, but this film poses a universal challenge; it's one man alone -- LT -- and though it sounds very corny, he's in all of us.' Waldo felt disinclined to agree.

Philosophical musings then gave way to heartfelt sentiment. Asked whether they had consulted the Catholic Church over how it would react to the gang-rape of a nun (a crime posited by the film as providing Keitel with a chance for redemption), Lund came over sincere: I put myself into the head of someone who's a true Catholic; I tried to be almost a saint. The nun's confession is an extremely Catholic statement; it's very beautiful and I can't read it aloud without crying.' Ferrara, however, was having none of this soppy stuff: quizzed why he had chosen a disco soundtrack for the souped-up scene of the nun's violation, he remained laconic. 'I dunno. Something about the song just connected for me, for no particular reason.' Such, Waldo concluded, are artists. Small wonder he steers clear of them.