I’d forgotten about Amiri Baraka’s ominous presence, maybe Huey’s ghost, hanging over Bulworth. In some ways, it anchors this film from its sloppy visual tendencies, such as the overuse of zooms and a faux, handheld camera. Still, quite provocative ten years later, though Beatty never quite spells out socialism as it should be, and spends too much time playing catch up with black culture.
When the film was released, there were theater ushers wearing political caps emblazoning the title of this film. Perhaps that’s why, in the end, it never quite works: it’s financed and marketed by the very people Beatty so desperately wants to destroy, or rather, shine a light on. Instead, like most political films out of Hollywood, the bankrolled product still has its corporate logo in every frame.