Bette Midler Steals Hollywood

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Harry-Martin has his own unusual saga. His parents fled Germany for South America upon Hitler's accession to power. Martin grew up in Germany and London, went boho in the late '60s and met young Brian Routh at a suburban London drama school. With that meeting, the Kipper Kids were born. In their act, which they have toured, on and mostly off, for 17 years, Martin and Brian play the same character: Harry Kipper, a working-lad with a big chin. Both Harrys work in jockstraps and false noses; they mime show tunes in parody form and smear each other with chocolate and luminescent paint. "The show is very scatological," Martin notes, "but in a childish way. People love it."

Bette has never seen Martin as a Kipper, but then he has never seen her as the Divine Miss M. Indeed, he had never heard Bette's music when they met briefly in 1982, two years before they fell in love. As Harry remembers their first date, it was "just sort of instantaneous. We knew we were meant for each other." Bette seconds the wisdom of impulse. "We were two people who -- he in his sphere and I in mine -- had sown quite a few wild oats. But even before our marriage, there was something about Harry and the relationship that made me feel trusting and safe. He is so stabilizing. Now all my friends want to marry Harry Kipper so they can have a fabulous life like mine."

At the time of the wedding, though, her career was not quite fabulous. "I would whine to Harry," Bette says. " 'Why can't I get a job? What's wrong with me?' And he asked what I really wanted to do. Singing? Comedy? I realized I didn't care that much about singing anymore. Nobody else seemed to like it either. But I knew they liked me when I was funny. I said, 'I think my best work is my funny work. And if I could, I'd like to be the funniest woman in the world.' He said, 'Go make a comedy album.' And that was Mud Will Be Flung Tonight."

The album made ripples and giggles, but in movies Midler was still a could- have-been, a never-was. Then Director Paul Mazursky phoned, and, Bette says, "it was like a call from the gods. It's like I'll Cry Tomorrow -- it's so Lillian Roth I can't stand it!" In Down and Out in Beverly Hills Midler played a fad-mad wife whose latest crush is on a derelict. As the kidnaped wife in Ruthless People, she has fun hitting the abrasive high notes, being splenetic and spiteful one moment, shedding warm tears of self-pity the next. And she gives good time in Outrageous Fortune, playing a floozie on the run with her boyfriend's other girlfriend. She shakes her patented sass and looks terrific in green nail polish and four-inch heels. She is also typecast in these films: as a two-dimensional harridan who, through camaraderie and mother wit, finds new depth in the third dimension. They do not stretch Bette; they shrink her to farce-size roles.