has termed “active citizenship.” Passivencitizenship is the product of thenservile state, active of the proprietarynstate. Belloc did not underestimate thendiflBculties of moving from the one tonthe other: “We are attempting a radicalnchange. We are attempting a reactionarynrevolution.”nIan Crowther is the literary editor fornthe Salisbury Review in London.ni Endangered Speciesnby David R. SlavittnBilly BathgatenProduced by Arlene Donovan andnRobert F. CoplesberrynDirected by Robert BentonnWritten by Tom StoppardnBased on the book by E.L. DoctorownReleased by Buena Vista PicturesnAdvance word was that this film wasntroubled, which helps it, I think.nWith lowered expectations, one comesnhoping only for an engaging DustinnHoffman performance in a more or lessnpredictable gangster flick. What is thereninteresting — never mind profound —nfor even E.L. Doctorow and TomnStoppard to say about Dutch Schultz,nanyway?nThe gangster movie, with its longngrand tradition, has given us images ofnJames Cagney, Paul Muni, GeorgenRaft, and Edward G. Robinson that arenas much a part of our national culture asnMickey Mouse or Babe Ruth. Thesenfilms were often B movies on whichnwriters and directors could operate withnrather more freedom from the frontnoffice than was usual because the studionexecutives were busy worrying aboutnother, more expensive projects. Thenspectacular rise and precipitous fall ofnthe lawless existential hero who is glamorous,nbrutal perhaps, but impressivelynauthentic amounted to a ritual thatnseemed to be our modern equivalent ofntragedy. For the gangster’s hubris, therenwas an inevitable punishment in whichnaudiences shared for having dared evennmomentarily to admire and investnthemselves in an assertion of unbridlednid.nBilly Bathgate stands in the samenrelation to the old film noir gangsternclassics as Shane does to the earlier andnmore innocent Westerns like, say. ThenVirginian. This is a decadent piece,nplaying upon our familiarity with thengenre and depending on our nostalgianfor its exhausted conventions. InnShane, or The Shootist, the Westernngunfighter was a relict, obsolescent ifnnot obsolete, and the message was thatna philosophical frontier had closed.nThis diminution of a moral landscapenwas figured in the change of light andnair in these Westerns, and when thengunfighter rides off to disappear intonthe heartbreakingly beautiful landscape,nand when Brandon de Wildencries out, “Come back, Shane! Comenback!” it is impossible for that cry notnto resonate in our own heads andnhearts.nThe rise of Dutch Schultz is merelynassumed in Billy Bathgate. It is his fallnwe witness, and this through the eyes ofnthe ambitious kid from Bathgate Avenue,nLoren Dean’s Billy, who functionsnhere as Brandon de Wilde did innShane. It is through Billy’s eyes that wenwatch the death throes of Schultz, and,nwithout pushing matters too much, thenend of individualism and authenticity.nBrian de Palma’s Scarface wasncamp, a send-up as much as an homagento Howard Hawks’s earlier film.nWith Al Pacino, what de Palma devisednwas an extravagant display of thenpornography of violence. Violence is,nindeed, a part of the genre, but usuallynmore punctuation than text. In BillynBathgate Stoppard and director RobertnBenton contrive a nostalgia for the oldndays, for their flamboyant gangsters.nnnand for Schultz. Hoffman is quitenwonderful as the Dutchman, almostnpoignant in his limitations and thenfailures of his ambition. He wears expensivensuits but manages never to looknquite right in them. He uses highfalu-n• tin words that he gets inevitably wrong,nconfusing, for example, “prodigy” withn”protege.” His diction is grandiose:n”What does a man have to do to bendeserving of a break, to reap the fruitsnof his labor?” He is an exdnct speciesnbut doesn’t realize it. Neither does.nBilly, at least at the beginning, and thenmachinery of the film involves thenyounger man’s gradual understandingnthat Schultz’s way of life is not merelynwrong (a category that doesn’t applynhere) but, in terms of social Darwinism,ngone. Crooked politicians one hasnbought and paid for get scared and turnnunreliable. Ambitious lawyers like TomnDewey gather like vultures and makenlife difficult. And larger, more viciousnpredators like Lucky Luciano comenout of the underbrush to change thenecology irretrievably.nSchultz can erupt, pull out a gun,nand blast people who, through theirndisloyalty or greed, have deserved harshntreatment. He can also, when driven tonit by circumstances beyond his control,ninflict pain on the innocent — even onnBilly, at one point. Needing a plausiblenexplanation for the blood in his hotelnroom (he’s just shot an insubordinatenassociate), he has his goons bloodynBilly’s nose and hold the young manndown so that his blood pours out to mixnwith the gore in the carpet. ButnSchultz doesn’t enjoy this kind ofnthing. It comes with the territory, isnpart of the business.nBilly, an apprentice in this criminalnenterprise, is a smart kid, tough, graceful,nand, perhaps most important,nlucky. He wangles his way into thenDutchman’s numbers-racket headquartersnin as nice a piece of filmnbusiness as one could want, watchingnfrom across the street as runners withnbrown paper bags come up to the door,nhold up their bags with some share ofnthe take, and are admitted. Billy thennshows up with such a bag, holds it up asnhe has seen the others do, and isnushered inside. There, instead of money,nit turns out that his bag has onlyn. . . cupcakes!nWill they beat him up? Kill him?nSchultz comes out, busy with the pres-nFEBRUARY 1992/49n