Buscemi stars, gets his due in 'Delirious'
Someday, far in the future, a team of archeologists will dig up the black, wizened, still beating heart of New York City, and it will look exactly like Steve Buscemi.
The much-loved character actor gets a rare lead role in "Delirious" and he's the best reason to see it. He plays a two-bit paparazzo named Les Galantine, who encapsulates everything people love and hate about the city: the aggressiveness, the caustic honesty, the gallows-humor grit. Les is a walking New York Post headline: "SLEAZEBAG TO WORLD: DROP DEAD."
Written and directed by Tom DiCillo, "Delirious" is a parable about celebrity culture and those who cling to it like remoras on the belly of a shark: photographers, publicists, and so forth. Les is one of those parasites, although he'll tell anyone who listens that he's better than that. He's not a peon but a player; not a paparazzo but a "licensed professional." This still doesn't get him past the red-carpet barricades and into the VIP lounge where Benicio, Sarah Jessica, and all the Sopranos are partying.
No one pays attention, in fact, except Toby (Michael Pitt), the spaced-out homeless runaway Les has adopted as an assistant. They have a symbiotic arrangement: The kid gets close to the stars and Les gets to order someone around. This dynamic will change.
The how and the why of that change is the fable-like part of "Delirious," which takes place in a fairyland Manhattan of celebrities and coincidence. The biggest name of the moment is K'Harma Leeds (Alison Lohman), a not very bright pop singer who seems lost in the star-making machinery (the movie makes the perfectly logical argument that fame has nothing at all to do with talent or intelligence). When she and Toby make eye contact, it's like two beautiful, stupid golden retrievers meeting.
Toby has many mentors in his pilgrim's progress through the canyons of New York: a predatory, sexed-up casting agent played smartly by Gina Gershon; a reality-show director (Cinque Lee, Spike's brother) convinced it takes a homeless kid to play a homeless kid. Even Elvis Costello pops up as himself at one point. Toby always comes back to Les, though, and we're glad for it: Every moment Buscemi is onscreen "Delirious" gets a lift from his cheery rat-terrier bile.
DiCillo has been making under-the-radar New York indies for a few decades now without ever getting his due. It's a disservice to call him the poor man's Jim Jarmusch (for whom he once worked as cinematographer) when he can turn out something as fine as "Living in Oblivion" (1995), one of the funniest, truest movies about making movies in recent years.
DiCillo's films are busy with incident and cynically knowing; sometimes too busy and too knowing. "Delirious" is good dirty fun until the plot mechanics kick in after the first hour, after which the director stops observing his characters and starts moving them around a predetermined urban grid. The film turns serious, even self-righteous, and Buscemi's Les is made to go a little mad. That doesn't seem right: This guy's a survivor if ever there was one.
At its frequent best, though, "Delirious" pokes droll holes in our bankrupt pop marketplace, from the charity banquet for "Soap Stars Against STD" to a pair of publicists brawling over which limo gets to unload its celebrity onto the red carpet first.
Everyone here is obsessed with finding "the real thing" - the next hot actor, the next revealing paparazzi shot, the lover or the friend who'll make it all worthwhile. Everyone settles for the illusion of reality instead. It's prettier, and it doesn't hurt so much.
Ty Burr can be reached at tburr@globe.com. For more on movies, go to boston.com/ae/ movies/blog.
