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» Features » Maguffin » Reviews
| REVIEW But is it radio? Kathy Hofmeyr
In 'A Prairie Home Companion', Robert Altman, as always, has assembled a stellar cast including Meryl Streep, Lily Tomlin, John C. Reilly, Woody Harrelson, Virginia Madsen, Tommy Lee Jones and Kevin Kline. While Altman’s films tend to be ensemble works, without a conventional “star”, if one were to select one from this illustrious cast it must be writer and long-time radio host Garrison Keillor. Keillor, a prolific novelist and columnist, is one of the most talented American writers of the past few decades. His prose, much of which deals with the world of radio, is tight, subtle and wry — reminiscent of a latter-day Damon Runyon. In his screenplay, Keillor has combined his experiences in the real-life “Prairie Home Companion” radio show to create a bittersweet, funny and somewhat mystical film about a live radio show’s final night of broadcasting. The fraught and hectic atmosphere of live radio provides for a farcical onstage/backstage structure, while the hopes of the employees that the show may yet be saved give the plot its running thread and impetus. The characters are larger-than life caricatures. Streep and Tomlin play the faded Midwestern belles harmonising songs their families have sung for decades, draped in shawls and lamenting the passing of an era. Harrelson and Reilly are the music-hall cowboy brothers, yee-hawing over their guitars and displaying sibling rivalry through a lively exchange of gags and jibes older than radio itself. Kline’s studio detective, tellingly named Guy Noir, is a leering, jaded romantic whose affection for the Dangerous Woman (an angel? a ghost? a madwoman? played by the incomparable Virginia Madsen) recalls Groucho Marx in his more tender moments. The action happens around Keillor’s character, GK, an old-time radio host who has been doing this for so long nothing fazes him. Like the calm eye of a hurricane, GK watches with bemusement as love and hate, youth and age, life and even death itself befall the people around him in the space of just a few hours. One suspects Keillor simply is playing himself. Like much of Altman’s work, this is a film to be enjoyed and savoured, not one to be approached with expectations of a conventional narrative and its trappings. As with 'The Player', 'Prêt á Porter', 'Gosford Park' and 'Short Cuts', this film has no real beginning, middle and end, merely a duration for which the fourth wall of a private space is removed to expose a slice of life, complete with multiple layers and a comic spread of icing on top. The art direction is exquisite (although the inclusion of Lindsay Lohan and her twenty-first century clothing and character do insert an anachronistic twist) and the blues and country soundtrack contains the sort of music one wants to own forever. The performances are exactly as good as one would expect from such a cast, but overall one has to wonder whether the film works. On this point I reserve judgement. I have seldom enjoyed an Altman film on first viewing, but on return and reflection I usually discover layer upon layer of subtlety and nuance that initially had passed me by. Most of these films one can hardly help but grow to love. 'A Prairie Home Companion' may not be Altman’s finest hour (and forty-five minutes), but for fans of his other work it's a must-see. | | |
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