Robert Altman's A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION

Bonjour!

I enter the blog-o-sphere-o-rama with my review of Robert Altman's latest film. You Know, For Film will primarily be dedicated to movie reviews and movie-related material from yours truly, but of course occasional digressions are always possible. I wish to engage in an earnest and open dialogue with all who read here with the hopes of building a better conversation amongst moviegoers. So, as they say, on with the show...

A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION.
Robert Altman's potential final film (re)imagines the final live-broadcast of Garrison Keillor's public radio staple "A Prairie Home Companion" as a down-home musical variety show complete with gospel and country-western acts. An assorted cast of eccentric characters populate the Minnesota-based station that has just been sold to a media conglomerate.

There is the luminous tag-team of Lily Tomlin and Meryl Streep, who comprise the family duo of the Johnson Sisters, aged sisters who remember their younger years with equal doses of bitterness and fondness. Woody Harrelson and John C. Reilly are a jokey yet vulgar outlaw country duo who steal scenes as if their jobs depend on it. Keillor (who also wrote the film's screenplay) plays himself as the loquacious, soft-spoken host of the proceedings whose verbal antics bring the wackiness together. Altman, whose style has always been loose, plays it even looser this time around, having fun because the 80-year-old auteur maybe assumes it could be his last. Dialogue overlaps as it always has in Altman's films before the show takes center stage. When the show begins, songs play out in a beautifully framed cinemascope wide shot where the actors sing and perform their own songs, much like in the over appreciated NASHVILLE. Cowboys like the Harrelson and Reilly duo are no stranger to Altman's early work (BUFFALO BILL, MCCABE & MRS MILLER). Hell, the film is even narrated by a Raymond Chandler-esque fast-talker named Mr. Noir (Kevin Kline) that could have been played by Elliot Gould in his day.

Perhaps, then, this musical romp is best described as a celebration of not just the Americana where live radio and diners still exist, but as a celebration of Altman himself. "It's not a tragedy when an old man dies."

And, too appropriately, like Altman's oeuvre, it only works to a varying degree. Kevin Kline's comedic delivery is flawless, yet his character seems woefully unnecessary and out of place in this film. It makes matter worse that Lindsey Lohan's character might be the most false character Altman has ever allowed into one of his films. Her performance is passable, but ultimately her arch feels like one from the anonymous Hollywood films she surely passed up to take this role. A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION even attempts to deal with more spiritual issues, but ultimately that acts as a buzzkill (and thankfully doesn't really develop much throughout the film). Garrison Kealor's verbal wit translates well to the actors, but not across the entire screenplay.

In a film where the theme of looming death dominates, it is almost too easy to read it as Altman eulogizing himself. However, as the Altman-surrogate, Garrison Kealor dismisses the very notion. "I don't do eulogies. If I did them at this age, it'd be all I'd do," he eloquently declares. However, when A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION ends with the icons of Americana assembled in a diner talking about the good 'ol days and suddenly an angel appears, it is a fond farewell and send off to a time not-so-long-ago-but-easily-forgotten. Americana will have its own quiet death soon, but let us not mourn it -- let us revel in it! Altman's A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION has a home-spun charm like Kealor's own stories, and that familiar, friendly quality extends throughout this far from perfect film. A most fitting send off to one of America's most stalwart and individualistic auteurs -- and, perhaps, one of its last.