Review: 'Prairie Home Companion' full of Altman trademarks

Robert Altman surely must have seen it as a mixed message when he received his at this year’s ceremony.

Did the Academy think he was dead, if not physically, then creatively?

Altman, cited as one of the most innovative directors in the history of film, has been nominated five times for best director and has never won. That puts him in the company of Martin Scorsese and Alfred Hitchcock, two other undisputed masters of cinema.

Anyone who assumes that Altman, now 81, has his days as a world-class director behind him is making more than a minor mistake. True, he hasn’t had a film on the level of “Nashville,” “Short Cuts” or “The Player” lately, but that’s nitpicking. How many nearly perfect movies can one man direct?

Altman’s latest effort, “A Prairie Home Companion,” seems to be an unlikely subject for his bag of staple directorial twists, but Altman leaves no doubt his skills for putting together a brilliant film have not deteriorated with age.

The film features Altman trademark devices like overlapping dialog, camera work that makes the viewer feel like an eavesdropper and an ensemble cast that is allowed to improvise a great deal. The result is classic Altman, and even people who aren’t fans of the radio show of the same name will enjoy the movie. It’s a brilliant film and if you take a look at the names in the large cast, you’ll realize that every actor in Hollywood relishes the chance to work with Robert Altman.

Lake Wobegon

Garrison Keillor’s radio show “A Prairie Home Companion” is set in the fictional town of Lake Wobegon, Minn. Keillor spins yarns about the townsfolk, advertises products like Powdermilk Biscuits and does endorsements for agencies like The Duct Tape Council. He goes into so much detail one begins to believe Lake Wobegon might really exist.

Altman, working from a story written by Keillor, takes the film a step further. This “Prairie Home Companion” is much like an alternate universe version of the real one, which is, as mentioned, fiction.

Some of the characters from Keillor’s program – Detective Guy Noir and Lefty and Dusty, the singing cowboys – come to life in the film.

This “Prairie Home Companion” is broadcasting its final show. A large corporation has bought the radio station and the theater. They are tearing the building down to put up a parking lot.

Altman lets his camera flow seamlessly from front of the house, watching the performance, to backstage and the dressing rooms where performers and crew are discussing the show’s history and getting nostalgic about its swan song.

Streep, Tomlin and Lohan

Among the best of this backstage banter is between Yolanda (Meryl Streep) and Rhonda (Lily Tomlin), the singing Johnson sisters. With Yolanda’s daughter, Lola (Lindsay Lohan), on hand, they relive some of the more memorable moments in their long career. The act used to feature more of the Johnson clan but now it’s down to just the two.

As Lola, Lohan does a fine job as a teen who writes maudlin poetry about suicide. Working with Altman can only help Lohan’s career. She has run the risk of being the Britney Spears of the silver screen. This film will surely up her credibility quotient.

Keillor is somewhat less whimsical in the film than on his “real” radio show. He seems almost shell-shocked at times. That’s not a criticism. When Yolanda tells him he has to acknowledge to the audience and listeners that this is the last show, he shrugs it off. He doesn’t want to look back. He doesn’t want to give a eulogy.

Speaking of eulogies, one of the show’s longtime performers passes away in his dressing room while waiting for a romantic encounter with one of the production ladies.

Dusty (Woody Harrelson) and Lefty (John C. Reilly) provide some comic relief in song and admittedly “bad” jokes. These actors, as well as Streep and Tomlin, do their own singing and while none of them run the risk of a recording career, it adds a sense of realism to the film.

Guy Noir (Kevin Kline) is the somewhat clueless security man who keeps an eye on the corporate ax man (Tommy Lee Jones) as well as a mysterious woman in a white coat (Virginia Madsen). Billed as “Dangerous Woman,” she seems to float in and out of her scenes. She turns out to be more than first meets the eye.

Radio show fans

I don’t listen to Keillor’s program; I’ve always found it a bit too precious. But after seeing Altman’s “A Prairie Home Companion,” that may need to be reevaluated. There’s a certain world-weariness, an “I give up” mentality, that underscores Keillor’s fictional universe.

Fans of the radio show will surely enjoy the film, but whether or not you’ve ever even heard of the program, Altman’s genius makes “A Prairie Home Companion” a film that can stand solidly on its own.

Jim Wunderle owns Wunderle Sound Services and is a Springfield free-lance writer and musician. He can be reached at info@wunderlesound.com.[[In-content Ad]]