The Evolution of Revolution

Films: Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters, Reds
Format: Streaming video from Hulu+ on laptop (Mishima); DVD from Rockford Public Library on kick-ass portable DVD player (Reds).

Biographies are always interesting to me. There is always a question in my mind as to whether or not something is accurate or not unless I know the answer going in. I knew, for instance, that a film like Yankee Doodle Dandy was highly fictionalized and had all warts and blemishes removed. A film like All That Jazz is somewhat fiction and not a true biography, but is still an excellent look at the director’s life. From what I understand, Paul Schrader’s Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters doesn’t dovetail precisely with author Yukio Mishima’s life and death, but it bears a definite ring of truth.

Like the film Time Regained about Marcel Proust, Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters conflates the author’s stories with his life. We see glimpses from his life and the world he grew up in as well as snippets from three of his books as well as a few other stories. Each of these is given the weight of autobiography as well, pulling events taken in part from the author’s life. In the first, The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, a young man with a stutter destroys a temple because its beauty makes him feel inferior. It is implied that Mishima spoke with a stutter as a child, and also mentioned that his youth was, at least in the eyes of his domineering grandmother, sickly. His childhood is matched against this story, which gives us a sense of his early life and desire to create. There are also some hints at homosexuality and uncomfortableness around women.

In the second story, Kyoko’s House, a young man essentially sells himself into sexual slavery for the benefit of his mother. The relationship quickly turns sado-masochistic and more than a little disturbing, and ultimately fatal. Here we learn of Mishima’s obsession with death, or more to the point, with dying well and in the right way to prove a point. There’s a cruelty in this part of the film that is evidently attractive to Mishima, a desire to suffer for the sake of art, but also a desire to suffer for the sake of suffering.

It is the third film that plays the closest to the narrative of Mishima’s life at the point we encounter him, though. In Runaway Horses, nationalistic fanatics attempt to overthrow the government and fail, ending with the leader committing suicide. As this is essentially what happened at the end of Yukio Mishima’s life, the viewer could easily credit Mishima with a certain amount of prescience, publishing the story a year before the reality.

In fact, it seems that Runaway Horses is a sort of manifesto of Mishima’s actual point of view. His character in the story longs for a return to the traditional past, a return of power to the Emperor and the destruction of the capitalism he feels has weakened Japan’s traditional culture. Interspersed with this story (as with the others, but more telling with this one) are clips of Mishima essentially espousing the same philosophy. As the character is abandoned by those who would help him, he continues forward anyway, just as Mishima does with his own poorly executed coup d’etat. As the characters swear to die to restore Imperial Japan, we see Mishima and his own followers swear essentially the same pact, signing in their own blood. It is in this segment (except for the end) where we get the most of Mishima himself, this story in many ways being the closest to his heart.

One of the benefits of a good biopic is that when it really attempts to reflect reality, we see the inner workings of the subject’s mind. Mishima’s mind was evidently a fascinating and scary place. So dedicated to the idea of nationalism and the return of the samurai tradition to Japan was Mishima that he created his own private army with uniforms of his own design, military regularity and samurai discipline.

While a great deal of the film rests on the shoulders of the adaptations of the three stories, the bulk of the film truly comes in the performance of Ken Ogata as Mishima. This is a powerful performance of a man dedicated to a way of life and an ideal to the exclusion of everything else.

Schrader made a series of interesting decisions throughout the film, all of which work beautifully. Many of the story excerpts are shown essentially as stage plays, lending both a sense of drama to them as well as a step away from reality, almost as if to tell us that we are seeing a play within a play, a story within a story. It is beautifully realized and works on every level from the color choices to the lighting effects. It is, in a word, masterful.

In fact, every aspect of this film works to near perfection. Philip Glass’s soundtrack is one I recognized from other films or at least from trailers without knowing that it had come from this film. It captures the action beautifully. The switch to black and white for Mishima’s segments in the three stories works as well, giving us an obvious cue as we switch between reality and fiction. This is a film to be watched more than once, a truly magnificent achievement in film as art and film as narrative.

Reds, the 1981 film from Warren Beatty, follows a different revolutionary path and a different sort of revolutionary. The film follows the communist struggles of John “Jack” Reed (Beatty), an American journalist, and his time before and after the Bolshevik revolution in Russia in 1917. Perhaps no other film since has cemented the link between Hollywood and the extreme political left since this film, and had HUAC not already happened, this might well be the sort of film that would trigger such thoughts, particularly in those early Reagan years.

Reed was, by all accounts, an excellent journalist as well as an extreme liberal. He was also one of the founding members of the American Communist Party, and was in Russia during the 1917 revolution. In fact, Reed is one of the handful of Americans buried in the Kremlin, so highly was he thought of in the new Soviet Union.

But that’s jumping ahead. The early part of the film centers on Reed’s time as a journalist in the United States, writing for left-wing newspapers and trying desperately to make ends meet. He encounters Louise Bryant (Diane Keaton) and is immediately smitten by her, and it’s evident that the feeling is mutual despite her marriage to a local dentist. Reed persuades her to come to New York and follow her path of writing and discussion of left-wing political topics, and she does.

Their union, though, is not a particularly happy one. It tends to be filled with his own trips to other parts of the country to try to organize labor, leaving her with her work and not much else. It’s around this time that Louise meets playwright Eugene O’Neill (Jack Nicholson) who also becomes smitten with her, and while Jack Reed is away, Louise decides to play. This causes even more of a rift between the two, which they attempt to repair by getting married, which leaves O’Neill out in the cold and depressed.

Louise gets an offer from Horace Whigham (George Plimpton) to go to Europe to cover World War I, which according to Reed is nothing more than capitalists fighting over capital. But she goes, and during this time, Reed falls ill. He is forced into the hospital and has a kidney removed. He eventually follows her on his way to Russia because he is convinced that communist revolution is about to take place. It does, of course, and he and Louise are in the perfect position to cover it. When the revolution ends, they return to the States to write. Louise goes on a lecture tour to cover their expenses and Reed writes his magnum opus, “Ten Days that Shook the World.”

But the two can’t stay happy together. As the revolutionary movement in the United States begins to splinter into factions, Reed returns to Moscow to attempt to gain the Comintern’s approval for his new political party. Thwarted in that, he is prevented from leaving because the Party wants to use him to attempt to incite workers’ revolutions in other parts of the world. Eventually, Louise comes to Russia to find him, and, overworked and ill, Reed eventually succumbs.

This is a film for which it appears Beatty called in as many favors as he could. There are some small roles played by great actors. Paul Sorvino appears as an Italian communist who is alternately friendly and antagonistic to Reed. Gene Hackman shows up as a journalist who sometimes employs Reed but can’t quite get over his communist tendencies. Character actor Edward Herrmann plays a friend of the couple, and character actor M. Emmett Walsh shows up as a speaker at one point. Lots of small but entertaining roles for an excellent cast.

One of the best aspects of the film are the frequent remembrances of people who knew the actual Louise Bryant and/or Jack Reed. These ancient voices and faces pop up into the narrative at times, explaining the relationship of the couple as they understood it, commenting on the politics of the time, or simply remembering. If nothing else, this lends an air of authenticity to the production it would not otherwise have.

Reds is gutsy for appearing when it did and for taking the stance on Reed that it does. It is Keaton who truly shines in this film though. Louise Bryant—free love tendencies, extreme politics, and all—ends up as the most sympathetic and most human character in the drama. In all honesty, I’d rather watch a film about her than Jack Reed.

In the end, Reds is far too long. While part of the story can handle the epic narrative style, the part that can is merely a blip on this film’s radar. I could handle a 3+ hour film on Reed’s and Bryant’s point of view of the Bolshevik revolution. It’s the rest of their lives and their relationship that I find less interesting. Ultimately, the film is two-thirds of two different films glued together. It’s not the film it should be in many ways; it’s good and worth watching, but an adaptation of Reed’s book might be more interesting and more worthy of the epic length.

Why to watch Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters: A unique portrait of a unique mind.
Why not to watch: Not much happens that is happy for anyone.

Why to watch Reds: Because Diane Keaton rocks and because Jack Nicholson plays Eugene O’Neill.
Why not to watch: It’s much longer than it needs to be.

Giallo

Film: L’uccello dalle Piume di Cristallo (The Bird with the Crystal Plumage)
Format: DVD from NetFlix on kick-ass portable DVD player.

See enough movies, and eventually, you see something from pretty much every genre. I’m not terribly familiar with the giallo style, despite having seen a few. I know the basics, but I can’t really tell you what is derivative versus original in the style because I’ve only seen those few. It’s an interesting style, though. With gialli, it’s all about murder and sex, even if the sex isn’t explicit. The more lurid the sex and the more awful the crimes, the better. All of this led me to L’uccello dalle Piume di Cristallo (The Bird with the Crystal Plumage), the first film from Italian stylist Dario Argento.

Like most gialli, the film plays with our expectations of what we think is going to happen and with twists at the end. This is pretty standard fare for the genre as I understand it. I wasn’t caught terribly off guard by the twist, even though it’s a good (if standard) one. Part of this may well be Argento’s novice status behind the camera at the time, which may also account for the relatively linear plot. The twist, in fact, feels a little forced, like it was put there because the audiences expects it in the genre, not specifically because it will make the movie better or more interesting. So the good news here is that the film is interesting almost in spite of its simplicity.

An American writer named Sam (Tony Musante) is in Italy where he had hoped to become inspired to write. It hasn’t panned out for him, though, so he’s all set to return to the States with his girlfriend Julia (Suzy Kendall) when he witnesses an attempted murder in an art gallery. A woman named Monica Ranieri (Eva Renzi), who happens to be the wife of the gallery owner, Alberto Renzi (Umberto Raho), is stabbed by a gloved and trenchcoated figure. Sam sees the attack but doesn’t get much of a look at the attacker, and the woman lives. Unfortunately for Sam, he’s now a bit of a suspect, and is forced to hand over his passport. And it turns out that there have been several such murders recently, leading the police to believe that they have a serial killer on their hands.

It soon becomes evident that Sam is not guilty, though, when new suspects turn up. Additionally, Sam gets a disturbing phone call from the apparent killer, a call that he manages to get on tape. His passport is returned by Inspector Morosini (Enrico Maria Salerno). Sam decides to stay on for a few more days since his lease isn’t quite up to see if he can aid in the investigation in any way. Slowly, clues come to him, as do increased threats. And throughout the film, he tries to remember the attack on Monica as clearly as he can, with replays changing slightly as the film continues. Eventually, there is a showdown, and then a twist in which Sam faces down the actual threat and (of course) all seems lost.

For a simplistic plot and some strange dubbing and voice work, L’ucello dalle Piume di Cristallo is surprisingly engaging. There are some excellent moments in the film that are surprising and work extremely well. For instance, when it becomes evident that Sam and Julia are targets of the killer, they are given a police escort who tails them at a given distance. In one scene, Sam and Julia are walking down the street with their escort behind them. Suddenly, a car approaches and with no warning, simply runs down the cop escort, which leads to a pretty good chase sequence through the streets of Rome. It was sudden and disturbing because of how quickly it happened, and it still works like a charm.

It also indicates to me that Dario Argento has always had a thing for creepy, disturbing soundtracks. This one seems to consist of moments of people singing “La la la” over and over in a way that doesn’t quite sound like vocals, but sort of does. When it’s not that, it’s more or less the sound of women in the heat of sexual passion. It doesn’t hold a candle to the Goblin soundtrack for Suspiria, but it’s still pretty weird and fun, and I rather liked it in spite of myself.

I’ve no doubt that there are other gialli worth my time and attention out there, but it would not surprise me if someone who really knew the genre told me that this one ranked as one of the better ones. The plot is a bit too simple, but still engaging. The characters act in logical ways that don’t leave me scratching my head as to their motivation. And I like the strange sexual tension that seems to exist in at least a few of the killings. There’s definitely more going on under the surface than we are allowed to see, so I appreciate the fact that the film is quite a bit deeper than it lets on at the start.

As a final note, a film that is this influential deserves a decent DVD copy. The transfer is good, but the DVD itself is punishing. There's no menu, no subtitles (and no ability to watch in Italian with subtitles) and no options or extras. The film deserves better treatment. Someone tell Criterion.

Why to watch L’uccello dalle Piume di Cristallo: A surprisingly effective thriller, even after 40+ years.
Why not to watch: Is it too much to ask for a decent DVD version?

Month 25 Status Report

So I missed putting this up last night.

January was a good month. I located a number of movies I couldn't find in the past and watched a few of them too. I also knocked out a set of foreign films, which always take more concentration, and are thus more difficult to work into my schedule.

Even better, I'm currently at 500 films to go. That's a pretty good milestone. The goal for the rest of the year is essentially 25 films per month, so February is going to be a little tough because it's short.

In the Ghetto

Film: The Pianist
Format: DVD from DeKalb Public Library on kick-ass portable DVD player.

(This review is a part of the Blind Spots series. See others in the series for January at The Matinee.)

World War II is a common theme for films, and when it comes to World War II, the most common theme is to investigate aspects of The Holocaust. There are almost certainly more films on The List about this particular terrible part of humanity that any other topic with the possible exception of love and romance, and even then I’m not sure I’d take the bet. Because this is such a common topic for film, it becomes increasingly important for filmmakers to tell different stories rather than the standard tale of survival against crippling odds and horrifying brutality and inhumanity. And yet, in the long run, this is what most of the stories become—triumphs of simple humanity against a truly loathsome evil.

The Pianist is one such story that manages to transcend the idea of a tale about simple survival while essentially being a film about just that. Wladyslaw Szpilman (Adrien Brody) is a classically trained pianist who plays for Polish radio. On September 1, 1939, German troops cross the border into Poland, and both France and England declare war on Poland’s side. The Poles are convinced that the war will be won quickly and decisively, thanks to their allies coming to their aid.

Of course, this is not the case, and soon Poland is in the same grip of fear that plagues the rest of Europe. For Szpilman and his family, there is greater cause for alarm—they are Jewish, and the laws against them soon become restrictive. As Germany takes over, there are fewer and fewer rights available to the Jews and life becomes harder and harder. As the takeover progresses, so do the increasingly harsh laws, and as these go into effect, the behavior of the occupying forces become more and more openly sadistic. Eventually, the Jews are moved into a walled ghetto, a city within the city of Warsaw.

We follow Szpilman as he attempts to survive in the ghetto, tries to maintain a life with his family, and as he learns that there really is very little help from the outside world. A few friends do assist him, managing to get him out of the ghetto shortly before the uprising. He is moved into an allegedly abandoned apartment right across from the ghetto, which gives him a bard’s-eye view of the battles that go on there as well as the complete destruction of everything inside the walls.

Food becomes scarce, forcing him to go “prospecting” in other apartments with the hope of finding anything to eat. He is eventually found in a hiding place by a German officer named Wilm Hosenfeld (Thomas Kretschmann), who allows him to survive and even brings him food and clothing before the tide of the war turns in favor of the Allied forces.

The story is based on the real-life experience of the real Wladyslaw Szpilman, which makes touches like this one easier to believe. I have no idea how much, if any, of the film was based on the real story and how much was tweaked to better fit a particular narrative. But knowing that there is some basis in fact on the events depicted does lend a certain air of authenticity to the story.

Adrien Brody is perhaps the perfect person to play this role. He has an unusually expressive face, and his natural gauntness makes him ideal as Szpilman begins to starve. He looks like a man who is starving already. Put him in clothing a few sizes too big, and it looks as if he hasn’t eaten in a week. Toward the end of the film, with a full beard grown in, he looks positively decrepit. The beard doesn’t fill out is face but instead enhances the appearance of emaciation.

What’s interesting here is the starkness of the environment. Forced to move from location to location, Szpilman regularly encounters areas of Warsaw that have become blasted landscapes on which he appears to be the only living thing. We witness depraved acts of inhumanity that are shocking at the start of the film and become simply a part of the environment by the end. It is this that makes Hosenfeld’s behavior so noteworthy and, in its own way, beautiful. He asks Szpilman to play, and sits enraptured by the man’s talent, and then acts to save him. It is as if saving this one thing of beauty—a man’s talent—is a way to repay for the complete destruction of a people, a culture, a society, and a country.

I have a tendency to like or love Polanski’s films. I like this one. Perhaps on a second, future viewing I will love it.

Why to watch The Pianist: It’s a World War II story that is very different from the standard.
Why not to watch: How much time do you want to spend in the Warsaw Ghetto?

All's Fair in Love and Trench Warfare

Film: Un Long Dimanche de Fiancailles (A Very Long Engagement)
Format: DVD from Rockford Public Library on big ol’ television.

Most films about World War I are not American films. That’s simply a fact. I think it’s because the U.S. was involved in World War I for only about a year or 18 months before it ended, while all of Europe (virtually) was embroiled in that conflict for years before we got there. For the Americans, it’s still an important war, but one in which our involvement essentially pushed one side over the other. Had we joined the battle in 1915, our perspective on the war might well be different.

Un Long Dimanche de Fiancailles (A Very Long Engagement) is, then, a French film concerning World War I and the aftermath in the life of several people around France. We deal with terribly cruel punishments of men who desire to escape life on the front and the pursuit of these men after the war by their loved ones, who cannot determine if they are alive or dead. In particular, we follow Mathilde (Audrey Tautou) and her pursuit of Manech (Gaspard Ulliel), who she believes to be still alive despite all evidence to the contrary.

As the film progresses, we get pieces of insight into what happened on the front. The five men were convicted of self-mutilation (four are actually guilty), a court-martial offense and tantamount to treason. Rather than simply lining the men up against a wall and shooting them, there is a much more horrifying and terrible punishment in mind. The five men are taken out into the no-man’s land between the French and German lines at a place called Bingo Crepuscule. They are left there with no food and no weapons or ammunition, with the assumption that they will be killed during one bombing or attack or another. Manech, of course, is one of the five.

Mathilde feels such a strong connection with Manech, though, that she is convinced that he cannot be dead. She begins to investigate what happened at Bingo Crepuscule. She starts finding out people who were there who survived the battles. Bit by bit and piece by piece she begins to discover what happened, creating a narrative of those days with the men standing out in no-man’s land as well as the days that followed. She is assisted on her journey by private detective Germain Pire (Ticky Holgado) and survivor Celestin Poux (Albert Dupontel), who met the men and took care of them before their sentence.

She also discovers several of the women who have waited in vain for their men to return. Elodie Gordes (Jodie Foster, who speaks pretty good French) who lost both her husband in later days and her lover at Bingo Crepuscule. She also find Tina Lombardi (Marion Cotillard), a prostitute whose man was killed at Bingo, which leads her on a vendetta to kill those who sentenced him to death. Through all of this, Mathilde is supported by her aunt Benedicte (Chantal Neuwirth) and uncle Sylvain (Jeunet regular Dominique Pinon).

Un Long Dimanche de Fiancailles has all of the feelings of a typical Jeunet film with small touches of magical realism, which seems to be Jeunet’s favorite place to be. It does not have the same visual touches that a film like Amelie does, but these aspects are present in the script. Mathilde, for instance, has a series of superstitious tics that appear throughout the film as she attempts to reassure herself that Manech is still alive. She will, for instance, tell herself that if she can do something in a certain time or a certain way successfully, Manech will still be fine, almost like a child attempting to walk home from school without stepping on a sidewalk crack. And her mood and the path of the investigation seems to follow her success or failure on these little superstitious touchstones.

This is a hard film to dislike. Jeunet is one of the most expressive directors currently working. His films are visually gorgeous, and this one is no different. Even without the story going on, Un Long Dimanche de Fiancailles is beautifully filmed with gorgeous landscapes almost caressed by the camera. The war scenes have a stark beauty to them, as terrible and violent as many of them are. And this is Jeunet’s genius from my perspective. Even his war scenes—several of which are truly terrible to behold—are still riveting and demand being viewed.

Of course, other Jeunet trademarks are here as well. He has a passion for damaged characters. In this case, Mathilde’s frequent lapses into fantasy (if I can peel this apple without breaking the peel, Manech is still alive) are only part of her story; stricken by polio at five, she walks with difficulty, frequently using her evident physical limitations to elicit sympathy from others.

But is it good? It is. It’s perhaps too much to take in at times, and more complex than it needs to be. The story is lovely, though, and contains a marvelous ending that is both joyous and tragic, and therefore virtually perfect for a film dealing with the tragedy and terror of war.

Why to watch Un Long Dimanche de Fiancailles: Jeunet is a director worth watching.
Why not to watch: It’s not always easy to follow.

A New Definition of "Disarming"

Film: The Unknown
Format: DVD from NetFlix on kick-ass portable DVD player.

I’m finding it difficult to explain The Unknown. Oh, it’s not going to be a difficult film to summarize; I’m having a difficult time explaining its existence. If nothing else, it’s evidence that the more things change, the more they stay the same. The Unknown contains the sort of plot that seems beyond a 1927 audience, and yet here is the film, proof that such a bizarre and disturbing idea can find an audience in what we tend to regularly assume is a more Puritanical past.

The action takes place in a circus where one of the headline attractions is Alonzo the Armless (Lon Chaney). Despite having no arms, Alonzo is a trick shooter and knife thrower, performing these tasks with his feet. His target when it comes to trick shooting and knife throwing is Nanon (Joan Crawford), who is also the daughter of the circus’s owner. Alonzo is madly in love with Nanon, as is Malabar (Norman Kerry), the circus’s strongman. Nanon seems to return some of Malabar’s affections, but she has her own phobia to deal with. She has been grabbed and pawed by so many men in her past that she has become terrified of men’s arms and hands, making Alonzo sort of the perfect man for her.

Except for the fact that Alonzo has a secret to keep. He actually still has his arms. In fact, he’s got a little extra in that department; on his left hand, he has a double thumb. He hides his arms because as the circus travels around the country, he performs robberies and burglaries, not worrying about leaving fingerprints. Only his assistant Cojo (John George) knows that Alonzo still has his arms. Things change during a confrontation with Antonio Zanzi (Nick De Ruiz), Nanon’s father and the man who runs the circus. He warns Alonzo away from his daughter, and discovers the man’s arms. Desperate, Alonzo kills him. Nanon sees the crime, but not the face of the killer. She does, however, see his double thumb.

Cojo alerts Alonzo to his reality rather than his fantasy of life with Nanon. Should he become intimate with the girl, she will discover his arms. More importantly, she’ll discover his double thumb. Alonzo, desperate, makes a terrible decision, and this is where things really start to get disturbing. He contacts a doctor over whom he has blackmail evidence. In exchange for his continued silence, Alonzo has his arms amputated. This destroys any evidence of his crimes, eliminates any connection between him and Zanzi’s murder, and also makes him truly Nanon’s ideal man. But during his convalescence, Nanon has overcome her fear and has fallen for the brawny arms of Malabar. This sets up the terrible and inevitable conclusion.

Put simply, Lon Chaney is the reason to see this film and the reason this film exists. Malabar’s role could have been easily handled by any broad-chested man with a winning smile. Nanon’s role needed only a pretty face and a good figure, both of which Joan Crawford possessed in 1927. It’s Chaney who makes this film work, though. Initially, it is through his incredible ability at costuming, hiding his arms and acting like a man without them (although many of the tricks were evidently performed by a true double amputee hiding on the set). As the film progresses, though, Chaney’s expressive face carries the rest of the film. There is really no need for actual dialogue to understand the incredible torment of Alonzo, particularly at the moment he realizes that he has cut off his arms for nothing.

If anything really disappoints in this film, it is the length. I expected a film of about an hour’s length; The Unknown actually clocks in at fewer than 50 minutes. It’s incredibly compact, and while it does not feel like something is missing, it feels fairly insubstantial in some way. There should be more here. I’d like to see some of the crimes that Alonzo commits—these could be demonstrated by showing them to us rather than simply having Cojo tell us about the crimes. The strangeness of the story could very easily handle another half an hour or more. Alonzo is an interesting enough character that I’d like more insight into his character.

Lon Chaney has a reputation of playing monsters—Quasimodo, Erik the Phantom, and others. Alonzo the Armless fits into this pattern, too. Because of this, Chaney is thought of more as a horror actor out for thrills and chills. The Unknown as well as many of his other films serves as very real evidence that the man could truly act, create characters that are both terrible and vulnerable, and make an audience feel his character’s pain.

Why to watch The Unknown: Lon Chaney. You need no other reason.
Why not to watch: Just as it starts to get interesting, it ends.

Red Neck, White Truck, Blue Jeans

Film: Nashville
Format: DVD from Rockford Public Library on kick-ass portable DVD player.

I think I finally understand Robert Altman’s films. I tend to like Altman’s films when I actually watch them, but I also find them difficult to get myself involved in. There are multiple Altman films that I have seen the first half hour of, but couldn’t quite muscle my way through. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve tried to watch Short Cuts. So I have to brace myself for Altman, despite loving M*A*S*H and The Player.

But now, having watched Nashville, I understand his films, I think. Where he tends to lose me is the massive size of the casts. All of his films seem to have these overwhelming casts and multiple stories that eventually sort of tie up. In this, Nashville is no different from other Altman films. With so many characters and names, I get confused and frustrated and eventually I just walk away from it and watch something else. I’d get lost in the battling stories and not want to continue.

There is, I think, too much going on here to provide anything like an accurate summary of the action (although I’m bound to try eventually). Everything centers on five days in Nashville and the intertwining lives of a couple of dozen people who undergo crises of faith, life-changing events, wake-ups to reality, or the fulfillment of dreams. Many of our characters are successful or wannabee country, folk, or gospel musicians, so there is also quite a bit of singing going on at various events. Additionally, in the background for all the film (and in the foreground for parts) is the political campaign of an independent running for president.

So there’s a lot going on, and many of the stories intermingle, bump into each other, or at least touch each other tangentially. The major theme for a lot of the stories is tragedy, disappointment, or a shattering of hopes. One of the main connecting themes is the creation of the political Replacement Party and the grass-roots presidential campaign of Hal Phillip Walker. This brings in the stories of Haven Hamilton (Henry Gibson), a country singer who is told to endorse Walker for a return endorsement for the governorship of the state. Hamilton agrees to appear at the rally at the end of the film if Barbara Jean (Ronee Blakley) also appears. But Barbara Jean is fragile and has suffered a series of breakdowns. It is one of these breakdowns that causes her dominating husband Barnett (Allen Garfield) to commit her to the rally. Following her is Pfc. Glenn Kelly (Scott Glenn), who may have stalkerish ambitions toward the fading singer. Also in the mix is Connie White (Karen Black), who will not appear on stage with Barbara Jean.

While Barbara Jean recuperates in the hospital, she shares a floor with the wife of Mr. Green (Keenan Wynn), who is being visited by his niece, Martha (Shelley Duvall), who really doesn’t want to see her aunt in the hospital and would rather spend her time chasing singers and performing whatever acts a groupie typically performs for singers. He also rents a room to Kenny (David Hayward), who is never seen without his violin case and seems twitchy about anyone else touching it.

And then we have Linnea (Lily Tomlin) who has a depressing marriage with Del (Ned Beatty), who is more interested in furthering his political aspirations with Hal Walker than in his two deaf children. Despite Linnea’s role as a gospel singer, she is tempted into infidelity with Tom (Keith Carradine), part of a folk trio. Of course, Tom is a serial womanizer and is also sleeping with singing partner Mary (Cristina Raines), who is married to the third member of the trio, Bill (Allen Nichols).

And then there’s Winifred (Barbara Harris), who wants to make it as a star, but is constantly pursued by Star (Bert Remsen), her husband, who is against the idea. Sueleen Gay (Gwen Welles) also has aspirations as a singer and the body to be a headliner, but has no ability to sing a note and not enough self-awareness to realize her own lack of talent. And through all this, Tricycle Man (Jeff Goldblum) shows up and drives through on his huge three-wheeled chopper and Opal (Geraldine Chaplin), who claims to be a BBC reporter making a documentary on Nashville, inserts herself into conversations and is never seen with a film crew.

Whew!

So what’s the trick to understanding Altman? I’d argue that with a few exceptions, Altman doesn’t really want to tell stories. He wants to cut a slice out of lives and present them on the screen. What we see is messy because real lives are messy. We don’t have specific conclusions that we come to at a given time, and even when something in our lives does end, it doesn’t neatly wrap up into a package. Everything else in our lives continues on, unfolding its own plot as we continue. And that’s what Altman is giving us. In Nashville, we get a five-day slice out of the lives of a couple of dozen characters. A few things happen and time or fate or kismet brings many of those people to the same place at the same time for the end of the film.

That’s sort of the point. It’s not about the individual people or even their specific stories, but about how these stories mesh and blend and intertwine. The film almost becomes allegorical, with each character representing not a specific person in the real world, but a phenotype placed into this specific environment and story. And yet, on a real level, each story works as the story of a real person as well.

Nashville is a difficult movie to dislike completely because it is well made and because a number of the stories are compelling. It’s difficult to love completely because, well, it’s filled with a lot of country music, and a lot of it isn’t the good, classic kind. I have an intense dislike for the sort of redneck country that is frequently in vogue—the “Mom, trucks, God, and America” mentality that tacitly celebrates racism, antebellum values, and lack of education as positive values, and there’s a lot of that here. That it’s true to life isn’t the point.

But, it’s worth getting over that for this film. Nashville was difficult for me to get into, but once I got past the first half hour, I’m glad I stuck it out.

Why to watch Nashville: The stories all feel real.
Why not to watch: Have you heard country music?