August
2, 2002 | Take your pick: It's a comedy concert film, a feature-length
primal scream or a textbook example of public-relations spin. Or maybe
Martin Lawrence Live: Runteldat is all of the above.
Right
from the start of this wildly uneven opus, which ranges from laugh-out-loud
hilarious to wonder-what-time-it-is tedious, it's clear Lawrence feels
he has scores to settle, resentments to air, and a reputation to rehabilitate.
Under
opening credits, we get a kind of mini-biographical montage, reminding
us of Lawrence's career highlights -- winning awards, starring in his
Martin sitcom, winning a few more awards, co-starring with Will
Smith and Eddie Murphy, going solo in his own Big Momma's House
-- before mentioning rather less pleasant episodes.
Chief
among the public embarrassments: Lawrence's 1997 apprehension and hospitalization
after he was found screaming incoherently at passing cars on a busy
L.A. street. His arrest for brawling in a nightclub scuffle. And, perhaps
most notoriously, his 1999 brush with death after collapsing while wearing
heavy attire during a jog in 100-degree heat. Reports of these and other
unfortunate incidents are introduced by actors hired to impersonate
fatuous newscasters. They come across as impossibly smug as they air
the dirty laundry of poor, put-upon Martin.
The
mini-bio turns out to be a curtain-raiser for Lawrence's one-man comedy
show. Filmed over two days of performances at Constitution Hall in Washington,
D.C., Martin Lawrence Live: Runteldat finds the comic actor returning
to his stand-up roots, obviously enjoying the immediate feedback of
loudly approving fans - and using the occasion to repeatedly remind
one and all: "No one is immune to the trials and tribulations of
life." And some of us, apparently, are less immune than others.
After
the image-buffing intro, you can't help fearing Runteldat will
be a total whitewash of Lawrence's bad-boy behavior. That impression
is only reinforced when, moments after he takes the Constitution Hall
stage, Lawrence feels compelled to launch a foul-mouthed pre-emptive
strike on critics. (Hey, I dunno, maybe he read the reviews for Black
Knight and What's the Worst That Could Happen?) Once he gets
that out of the way, however, Lawrence gets serious about being funny.
For
more than an hour, Lawrence offers frequently uproarious and often pointedly
self-deprecating banter, using language that, for the most part, is
unrepeatable in polite company. But trust me: A lot of this is very
funny stuff about conjugal sex, corporal punishment and the dangerously
liberating properties of Couvassier. There's also a shockingly hilarious
riff on Martin Luther King, Jr. Lawrence wonders what might have happened
if once - just once! - the nonviolent activist would have gone medieval
on some rock-throwing redneck.
The
laughs continue when, somewhere around the 75-minute mark, Lawrence
openly confronts his much-publicized brushes with the law. To his credit,
he gleefully admits he was higher than a kite when he was caught running
in and out of traffic. And he graphically describes how, after he collapsed
in the heat - the result, he claims, of a too-strenuous exercise program
- he spent much of his long recovery period re-learning how to walk,
talk, urinate and defecate on his own.
Frankly,
it's difficult to be too critical of guy who jokes about the humiliation
he felt after soiling his pants in full view of an attractive nurse.
Trouble is, even when he's telling the worst things about himself, Lawrence
somehow manages to sound like someone making craven yet calculated appeals
for sympathy. At the very end of the movie, we get a big picture of
the star, accompanied by what appears to be a handwritten message: "We
are one." And maybe we are. But too much of Runteldat makes
you wonder if Lawrence really wanted to scrawl: "Please love me!"