Hbo Pictures Barbarians at the Gate

 ((Sat. (20), 8-10 p.m., HBO))

By TONY SCOTT

Filmed in L.A. and N.Y. by Columbia Pictures and HBO. Exec producers, Thomas M. Hammel, Glenn Jordan; producer, Ray Stark; co-producer, Marykay Powell; director, Jordan; writer, Larry Gelbart; based on book by Bryan Burrough, John Helyar.
 
Cast: James Garner, Jonathan Pryce, Peter Riegert, Joanna Cassidy, Fred Dalton Thompson, Leilani Ferrer, Matt Clark, Jeffrey DeMunn, David Rasche, Tom Aldredge, Graham Beckel, Peter Dvorsky, Peter Frechette, Judy Altman, Bruce Beatty, Raye Birk, Julia Calderon, Ron Canada, Ann Cooper, Mary Elkins, Bruce French, Steven Gagnon, Mary Hale, Mark Harelik, Dale Harimoto, Rosanna Huffman, Joseph Kell, Melody Knighton, Andrea Leonelli, Dan W. Lufkin, John Mansfield, Kathe Mazur, Jeanne Mori, Stacey Nathan, Dean Norris, Philip O'Brien, F. William Parker, Eric Poppick, Phil Reeves, Roger Rook, Nancy Stephens, Sally Stewart, Scott Stevens, Timothy D. Stickney, Parviz Vessali, Paul Vincent, Brian Wallace, Susan Ware, Vern Weese, Kent Williams, Rita Wilson, Dick Cavett.
 

Basing his teleplay on the Bryan Burrough-John Helyar book about the mile-high rise and plunge of Nabisco CEO F. Ross Johnson, writer Larry Gelbart comes up with a sharp, ingenious teleplay dealing in frailties, double-dealing and power. Johnson's daring career soars before skidding into a spin; it's a droll flight, with James Garner assertively setting the pace.

Supersalesman Johnson (Garner), dedicated to a buyout of diversified Nabisco, finds himself challenged by another company's master dealer, Henry Kravis (an urbane Jonathan Pryce), who gave Johnson the idea in the first place.

Gelbart brings in Johnson's attractive, non-social wife Laurie (Leilani Ferrer) as a good script device for her husband to explain things, and Kravis' wife Carolyne (Rita Wilson) as a counterfoil to the sunnier Laurie; they're all superbly defined characters.

Johnson is extravagant and his personal approach is loaded with sly, good-humored crudeness. The exec thinks he's got everyone securely in his Sulka shirt pocket, including company president John Greeniaus (Jeffrey DeMunn), American Express chief Jim Robinson (Fred Dalton Thompson), and Robinson's wife Linda (Joanna Cassidy), who is publicist for Johnson's daring scheme.

His deal's being handled by adroit Peter Cohen (Peter Riegert) of Shearson Lehman; the Nabisco board's bound to fall for his offer. Johnson couldn't fail -- but does.

The ride, directed at a smart clip by Glenn Jordan, is swift and spirited, and Garner's Johnson and Pryce's Kravis circle each other like wary forest beings.

It's a world in which several homes are required and cellular phones are taken along on horseback rides. This view of a perfumed existence as realized by Gelbart, Jordan and resourceful designer Linda Pearl states emphatically that these people are at home as self-annointed royalty, no matter how shaky the crowns.

Shrewdly observed action includes the rush-rush to realize a deal, power brokering at a ritzy Bush-Quayle fund-raising barbecue and recognition of news leaks. The race to make the takeover deadline builds in both wit and suspense.

Gelbart's teleplay delivers a worthy running gag about the quality of Premier cigarettes, a new, smokeless brand that Nabisco has been experimenting so dismally with -- it's an extension of the camouflaged hand Johnson's dealing.

As atelefilm, "Barbarians" fascinates; as social commentary, it excels. Making an intricate business exercise both entertaining and engrossing takes lots of doing; it's handily accomplished here.

Camerawork by Tom Del Ruth and by Nic Knowland is imaginative, editing by Patrick Kennedy is pro. Richard Gibbs' punctuating score hits the mark.

Camera, Tom Del Ruth, Nic Knowland; editor, Patrick Kennedy; production designer, Linda Pearl; art director, Michael Armani; sound, Jacob Goldstein; music, Richard Gibbs.