A predictable triumph for Bette Midler in Janis Joplin-like role of hard-working, hard-partying rock star trying to stand up for herself while also pleasing the masses, placating her managers, and finding room in her schedule for the men who are partly drawn to her and partly repulsed. There's lots of repulsive stuff going on in this overheated saga, starting with Bette's male co-stars (Alan Bates and Frederic Forrest are a nightmarish twosome) and concluding with a slightly ridiculous, melodramatic hometown concert wherein the Rose takes her sweet time getting to the stage (for which we are asked to sympathize with her and yet find her gutsy spirit "brave"). She's a frustrating mass of disconnected cells in a wobbly body, and one tires of her lashing out. Alan Bates, as the promotions manager, is barely intelligible barking out his lines with a thick British accent; he's out of place in this role, and we're never quite sure where we stand with his character (does he have any interest in Rose beyond money? Does he know how far gone she is? If so, does he care?). Midler is uncensored and uncontrolled, yet she has amazing scenes (her quieter moments such as the sequence outside Monte's Bar, where she begs Forrest, "Oh, please", are the most stunning). "The Rose" looks great, yet it has a distinctly schizophrenic side: part bleeding-heart apologia, part metallic wail. **1/2 from ****
Review of The Rose
