Directed by Robert Altman (M.A.S.H., Nashville), A Prairie Home Companion opens with the death of a legendary radio personality who is taken under the wing (or in this case, the white trench coat) of an angel in the afterlife.
While the rest of his radio team is left wondering how to mourn, they find themselves unexpectedly broadcasting their final program due to a real estate takeover. The question quickly becomes: do we elegize, or go out singing?
The motifs of death and rebirth, endings and new beginnings within the film compel us to wonder whether this could possibly be an allegorical farewell from the maverick filmmaker.
Altman’s presence has been felt in film, television, and theatre since the fifties. This is the man who wrote the book on the multi-plot film narratives, a device employed by many modern directors such as P.T. Anderson (Boogie Nights, Magnolia).
Regardless of whether audiences are ready to bid Altman adieu at 81 years of age, this film may signal the finale of a colossal canon.
Altman’s career began on broadcast radio, and the film’s fictional radio variety show, “A Prairie Home Companion,” is a throwback to his roots in that era. The show’s country, folk, gospel, and bluegrass performers seem to have drifted to us from a time before television. They’re punctuated by kitschy, enthusiastic ad campaigns for duct tape.
Author Garrison Keillor (the producer and host of the actual NPR show that the film is based on, and the film’s writer) plays the GK, punch-drunk host, an oblivious caricature who occasions every passing comment as worthy of an anecdotal recollection. GK’s on-air cohorts include two rawhide cowboys, Dusty and Lefty (Woody Harrelson and John C. Reilly), who are in dire need of a frontier to tame, and two flap-jawed sisters, Yolanda and Rhonda (Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin), who won’t let you forget the deceased members of their former family quartet.
Lurking backstage is the bumbling doorman, Guy Noir (Kevin Kline), a Bogart-wannabe who feels that the day befits a Hammet-style mystery. A celestial apparition known only as “Dangerous Woman” (Virginia Madsen), is the object of Noir’s attentions.
The news of PHC’s sudden cancellation begins a tug-of-war between the crew’s reflections, commemorations, and hopes; all while under constant pressure to keep the jingles rolling. And yet “keeping it rolling” is the least of what can be expected from Altman and company.
Served up with whimsical flair is an “up yours” ditty from the cowpokes, a duet cover of “My Minnesota Home” from the sisters, an off-kilter rendition of “Frankie and Johnny” performed tongue-in-cheek by Yolanda’s daughter, Lola (played by starlet Lindsay Lohan), and all of the dry-witted backstage antics you might expect from an outspoken bunch about to hit the bricks.
Altman’s trademarks, including working the zoom lens, improvisational acting, and overlapping dialogue, are all here. Yet the most notable offerings of the film are the all-too-natural performances of the ensemble cast that breathe life into Garrison Keillor’s sharp screenplay.
Kevin Kline is exceptional as the mustachioed Noir, delivering his best performance in years. The droopy-eyed Garrison Keillor offers a master performance that sits on the hinge between dry and sentimental. Maya Rudolph, who plays the stagehand who can never get a word in edgewise, succeeds by communicating with a face that speaks volumes. Even our favourite tabloid headline Lohan, offers a respectable performance as the wantonly depressed Lola.
Much of the pleasure to be gained from this film relies on audience familiarity with either Keillor or Altman’s previous work. Newcomers to the actual radio show (myself included) or Altman’s off-screen persona will likely feel a little lost.
However, followers of Altman will enjoy this one thoroughly. The filmmaker is peaking even in his twilight years.
While this may or may not be Altman’s final film, the auteur isn’t taking any chances. If it is, he departs with a festive eulogy, a singsong that remembers the good times while bracing our spirits for what is yet to come.
