Daily Herald Suburban Chicago
September 24, 1993
That force of nature, Bette Midler, opened last week at Radio City Music Hall to a crowd that was nearly hysterical in its adulation. From her first moments onstage, singing â€œFriendsâ€ while thousands stood and cheered, to her final, exquisite rendition of â€œThe Glory of Love,â€ Bette had the huge audience in the palm of her tiny hand.
If, at almost three hours, Betteâ€™s â€œ Experience the Divineâ€ has a few rough/slow spots, that is only to be expected. And Bette’s eclectic,Â grab-bag form at is pretty much what she’s always done on stage. You get ballads … you get hula n u m b ers… you get the incredible Delores DeLago, wheelchair-bound mermaid supreme (and wait till you see Deloresâ€™ great send-up of â€œNew York, New York! â€ â€” Sinatra and Liza may just have to drop this number from their repertoire, it should never be taken seriously a g a in )… you get the old Sophie Tucker jokes … you get a taste of â€œ Gypsy,â€ Midlerâ€™s upcoming TV special, with a knockdown version of â€œRose’s Turnâ€ … and, of course, you get Betteâ€™s sass with flash, scripted (by Bruce Vilanch), and her ad libs.
Betteâ€™s voice remains the unique, moving instrument it has always been. She is not now, and never has been, a gal with a beautiful voice â€” no smooth, soaring, dulcet, manyoctaved notes from this throat.
If you want that, listen to Streisand. What you get from Bette is pure emotion â€” she car convey anything. If she had only half the vocal resources she possesses, she would still be one of the greatest entertainers of her time. (First-nighter Barbara Walters did not equivocate: She declared Bette â€œthe greatest performer â€” eve r! â€ ) And Betteâ€™s body language is as impressive as her voice, from sexy bumps and grinds to a graceful Hawaiian hula.
Midler’s command of her physical self is as sure as it was 20 years ago. She looks slim and smashing, and she wittily exploits this in her first number, a rap-styled ditty called â€œ I Look Good! â€ Her choice of material is near-perfect, with one exception â€” she should excise â€œStay With Meâ€ from her repertoire. This just doesnâ€™t work outside the context of her famous film.â€œThe Rose,â€ in which she played a self-destructive, drugaddicted, Janis Joplin-like rock star. Particularly, it doesnâ€™t work with Midler encased in an evening gown, her hairÂ upswept. But this may be a minority opinion. The audience went nuts for â€œ Stay With Me.â€
In the end, Midlerâ€™s triumph is the feeling of humanity, of innate down-to-earth, all-American, mall/super market/dailyliving goodness, that she conveys.
Perhaps it is corny to say, but Midlerâ€™s show, despite its bawdy, gaudy aura of cheerful vulgarity, is a genuine, life-affirming experience. As someone remarked on the way out, â€œHave we all grown up as well as she has?â€
After three exhausting hours on stage, Bette Midler arrived at her Metropolitan Museum party in the Temple of Dendur, looking and acting as though sheâ€™d just come from a month in the country. This low-key event, nicely star-populated, was remarkable primarily for Bette’s energetic presence.
She stood in towering high heels and a skintight gown for an hour, greeting old friends and total strangers with affectionate aplomb. There were no pushy bodyguards or PR people, no roped-off â€œVIP” area, no attitude, thank you very much. (Oh, Iâ€™d just love to name the stars who could learn a valuable public-relations lesson from Bette M idler!)
Bette, accompanied by hubby Martin von Haselberg, was still on her feet as we left, being presented with a diamond trinket from the grateful people at Radio City Music Hall. (Bette has shattered every existing personal-appearance record there.)
By the way, Bette should be grateful to the Music Hall as well. The lighting was superb and the sound was clear as a bell!