Jack Black's 'Bernie' offers blissful bereavement

Nobody has a bad word to say about Bernie, so deeply involved in the life and deaths of his community. He's the most beloved resident of tiny Carthage, Texas -- and not just for his impeccable skills as a funeral director. On top of attention to bereavement detail (and innovations like the climactic release of a white dove during interment), Bernie teaches Sunday school, sings in the church choir, directs and stars in the town's amateur musicals, and coaches its Little League team -- always lending a helping hand, always going that extra step.

Welcome to director Richard Linklater's docudrama-mockudrama true story of Bernie Tiede (Jack Black), a genial mortician who takes pride in making the dead look better than they did alive, and who stays connected and wonderfully attentive to their survivors long after the funeral. Everybody loves Bernie.

Nobody loves Marjorie Nugent (Shirley MacLaine), a hateful old battle-ax whose filthy rich oilman husband dies, surely as a means of escaping her. Bernie handles the service, tastefully as always, and checks up on her afterward. Disdainful at first, even mean Marjorie soon succumbs to Bernie's guileless good cheer.

They start hanging out. Bernie escorts her to concerts, becomes her chauffeur, chef and confidant. They take $100,000 vacations together to luxury spas, cruises on the Queen Mary. He cuts her toenails, does her laundry -- and gets a private plane. As she becomes more and more dependent on him, she gives him power of attorney for all her financial affairs. Bernie evolves into Carthage's Santa for All Seasons, making donations galore on her behalf, funding a new wing of the Carthage Methodist Church and the Miss Senior Carthage geriatric pageant (at which, as emcee, he croons "Beautiful Dreamer").

Everybody's happy. But nine months go by without anyone actually seeing her. Bernie says she's just reclusive and assures the townsfolk she's alive, though none of them would be grief-stricken if she weren't. But the publicity-seeking cowboy District Attorney Danny Buck (Matthew McConaughey) gets suspicious.

And Bernie's got some 'splainin' to do ...

Director Linklater co-wrote the script with Skip Hollandsworth, based on a 1998 Texas Monthly article by Mr. Hollandsworth. An East Texas native himself, Mr. Linklater employs actual Carthage residents who knew Bernie and Marjorie -- interspersed with actors, including Mr. McConaughey's mother, Kay -- to create a gossipy Greek chorus for the events, with morbidly funny results.

"If the people of Carthage were to make a list of people most likely to get to heaven, Bernie'd be at the top," says one of his many local fans.

Structurally, the film is divided into segments introduced with such no-nonsense questions as: "Was Bernie Gay?"

"I always thought Bernie was a little light in the loafers," observes his funeral-home boss on that point. "The musicals 'n' all ... and he always wore sandals." One of Bernie's lady champions counters, "Our Lord always wore sandals and never got married and had 12 male disciples -- and nobody ever called them queer."

Mr. Linklater's wonderfully quirky, original indie work first gained wide attention with "Dazed and Confused" (1993), a time capsule of 1976 Texas high schoolers, with Mr. McConaughey and Parker Posey, followed by the beautifully romantic "Before Sunrise" (1995) with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delphy -- who, like Mr. McConaughey and Mr. Black, would become members of his unofficial ensemble company. Mr. Linklater has an Altmanesque interest in eccentric people making impulsive decisions -- notably, Mr. Black's character in his terrific "School of Rock" (2003).

As we know from "The Loved One," et al., the funeral biz is an easy target to burlesque. In the opening sequence that Mr. Linklater (and we) can't resist, Bernie applies crazy glue to a subject's eyelids while dispensing another trade secret or two: "Most of us who service the deceased apply too much blush." But there's no point caricaturing people who are caricatures to start with, and, other than that scene, Mr. Linklater avoids doing so.

So does Mr. Black. His deliciously smarmy, perfectly calibrated performance has punch as well as paunch, his knit shirts too tightly tucked in -- but no mugging or trace of his trademark brash comic persona. Forget "Kung Fu Panda" and "Nacho Libre." This is unlike anything he's done before -- a real character with a surprisingly good gospel-choir singing voice (especially in "He Touched Me"!).

Then there's Ms. MacLaine -- the perfect opposite. She recoils whenever touched, as we recoil at her every vicious utterance. It's sweetness vs. evil. Mr. Black's charismatic Bernie is just about the nicest, most empathetic hero you could want. Yes, murder is wrong, of course, but, well, let he who is without sin ...

Characters outweigh narrative for Mr. Linklater, who is at his whimsical best here. The obese jurors and weeping granddaughter at the inevitable trial ("When I saw her there, underneath the frozen corn and pot pies ...") must be seen to be believed. Or disbelieved. "Bernie" is blissful black comedy based on a bizarre slice of real life.

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[Stick around through the credits to catch a glimpse of the real Bernie and Marjorie.]