It's a boy's, boy's, boy's world (and a girl's)

"Liberty Heights" stars Ben Foster and Rebekah Johnson talk about race relations and "spilling seed" in Barry Levinson's latest look back at Baltimore.

By Michael Sragow

Dec 16, 1999 | "Liberty Heights," writer-director Barry Levinson's fourth comedy-drama about middle-class Baltimore, is set in 1954 and named for a street that served as the borderline for a Jewish neighborhood. The movie tells how high school senior Ben Kurtzman (Ben Foster) and his college-boy brother Van (Adrien Brody) discover what it means to be Jewish -- at least in a social sense. Ben declares war on a swimming club that posts a sign banning "Jews, Dogs and Coloreds." (Jews, Ben notes, are targeted first). Van breaks the dating barriers between Semite and gentile. Meanwhile, Nate Kurtzman (Joe Mantegna), their father, holds together a burlesque house and a numbers racket in a city whose racial equilibrium is wavering.

The most original and compelling part of the movie depicts Ben's tender bond with a smart, fetching black classmate named Sylvia. It's one section of Levinson's ongoing Baltimore series (including "Tin Men" and "Avalon") that ranks in pungency and insight with his stellar debut entry, "Diner" (1982). And a lot of credit should go to the eloquent performer who plays Sylvia and the intrepid one who plays Ben.

Actress Rebekah Johnson records under the name Rebekah when she puts out CDs as an R&B-tinged singer-songwriter. She won the part of Sylvia in "Liberty Heights" on the merits of her readings and auditions. But Levinson must have sensed the admiration this performer had for the character of a poised student -- and ebullient rock fan -- who helps integrate a largely Jewish high school of 45 years ago.

Johnson ended her 1998 debut CD, "Rebekah: Remember to Breathe," with "Little Black Girl," a song that advises the girl of the title, "It doesn't mean you're dumb/Just 'cuz no one smart looks like you on TV."

When I interviewed Johnson during her San Francisco stop with co-star Foster, she said she responded passionately to the script of "Liberty Heights" because "I don't see many scripts with black girls like Sylvia. I have a lot of respect for Sylvia. I wanted her to be strong and confident -- that's what I got out of reading the script. This was a girl who had such dignity at a young age -- and at a time when you did have to mature a little quicker. When I was growing up I was able to take for granted tons of things that I'm only learning to face now. But back then it was, 'You can't sit here, you can't eat here, you can't go to this school. Your father may be a wealthy doctor, but there are still things you can't do.' I'm sure if you're an intelligent person, that affects you."

One way it affects Sylvia is to bring out her rebellious streak. She bends the rules of her loving-yet-conservative and overprotective father (played by James Pickens Jr.) and strikes up a flirtatious pal-ship with her Jewish admirer Ben.

Both Johnson and Foster felt lucky to make their feature debut in a Levinson picture with a big, cohesive cast (including Bebe Neuwirth as Ben's mom). Referring to a recurring role he plays on the TV series "Freaks and Geeks," Foster whipped his head from side to side and said, "From Barry Levinson ... to retard. I'll be happy to keep this diversity up."

For Johnson, "It was nice that in my first movie I was part of an ensemble. I didn't feel the pressure of thinking, 'Don't want to blow it, don't want to blow it.' And I didn't feel as if all the weight was on my shoulders. I looked around and thought, 'Everyone's so good in this. But I'm not bad: I'm holding my own with these people.'"

Johnson and Foster give the film its spark of revelation, which has less to do with race or religion than with the venturesome fluidity of adolescent aspirations and emotions. "It's the Superman syndrome," cracked Foster. "It makes you feel you can do things you couldn't do otherwise."

The co-stars share a rare rapport. Foster temporarily took the role of Johnson's dad when they first read lines together. "That's why he liked me," she chortled. "He got to be my dad." In person and in the movie she is more centered than he is.

Levinson seemed to pour his most volatile memories into Ben. The kid outrages his family when he impersonates Hitler for Halloween and when he attends a James Brown concert on the black side of town.

And Foster acknowledged in our interview that he saw Ben as the adolescent Levinson. I think Foster keyed in to Levinson's unassuming, subtly cutting persona so completely that he may not ever sort out the elements that went into his performance. When I told him that he pulled off with ease the kind of comical '50s wise-guy attitudes that a kid like Ben might take from watching Sid Caesar on TV, Foster looked as if he didn't know what I was talking about. It was Johnson who interjected, telling Foster, "Barry was a comedian: He started out as a stand-up, and he gave you some good bits in there. You're the one who asks, 'How did they pick the order on that sign? Why did they put Jews first?'"

But Foster had a point. "I never thought of Ben as a comedian," he said. "There might have been more light-heartedness to that whole generation. And chances are when you're hanging out with your buddies at the diner, you'll have a pretty good time. Still, I suppose he did tap into some ironies of the time."

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