A Prarie Home Companion Review
Posted by Chad Webb on 06.12.2006
A pure and captivating masterpiece...
Dusty: Woody Harrelson
G.K.: Garrison Keillor
Yolanda Johnson: Meryl Streep
Rhonda Johnson: Lily Tomlin
Axeman: Tommy Lee Jones
Guy Noir: Kevin Kline
Dangerous Woman: Virginia Madsen
Lefty: John C. Reilly
Lola Johnson: Lindsay Lohan
Chuck Akers: L.Q. Jones
Molly: Maya Rudolph
Al: Tim Russell
Donna: Sue Scott
Directed By: Robert Altman
Release Date: June 9, 2006
Running Time 1 hour and 45 minutes
Rated PG-13 for risque humor.
At first glance, a movie about a radio show might not catch your fancy in the midst of huge summer blockbusters, but rest assured, A Prarie Home Companion is one of the most lovely and delectable treats I have tasted in quite some time. 81 year old Director Robert Altman's momentously enchanting film is "so sweet you'd pour it on your pancakes." That particular line in the film describes a woman's smile, but it is a perfect fit for my plentiful thoughts.
It is a rainy Saturday night, and fans are filing into the Fitzgerald Theater to watch their treasured radio variety show called "A Prarie Home Companion", which has managed to survive for 30 years in the same age as television. Unfortunately, the audience has come to see the show for the very last time, since WLT, the station that represents this little radio show, has been sold to a Texas conglomerate. The dumpster is already outside, just waiting for people to throw the old "Prarie" set into it. The show has a cast of faithful musicians and crewmembers that put their hard work into the program every single time. Yolanda (Meryl Streep) and Rhonda Johnson (Lily Tomlin) are the remaining members of 4 sister singing group. Yolanda's daughter, Lola (Lindsay Lohan), also hangs around backstage. She is somewhat of a poet, only her topic of choice is suicide.
Guy Noir (Kevin Kline) is a broken down private detective, who has the job of security for the building. When he explains his position, he spouts off a title long enough to make him seem more important. Chuck Akers (L.Q. Jones) is the ancient veteran country singer, who is also madly in love with the lunch lady of the clan. Dusty (Woody Harrelson) and Lefty (John C. Reilly) grace the stage as a singing cowboy duet. In the background the whole time is the house band called "The Shoe Band." Leading the "behind the scenes" crew is the pregnant stagehand Molly (Maya Rudolph). The man acting for the wicked Texas conglomerate is called the Axeman (Tommy Lee Jones). Finally, wandering about the building is a mysterious woman in a white coat (Virginia Madsen), whose agenda is uncertain. As time flies by, the last show brings out the best in everybody. Emotions run wild, and tempers flare as the beloved radio winds down, and disappears forever.
In a fascinating little supplement, the film commences with a faint noir atmosphere. It evokes a bit of sadness even before viewers realize why. A Prarie Home Companion was shot entirely on location at the Fitzgerald Theater, except for the opening and closing scenes. G.K. is performed by Garrison Keillor, who is also the screenwriter, and he plays a character extremely reminiscent of himself. His masterful storytelling and elegant vocals hypnotize us under such a delightful spell that one will wish it is a never ending dream. Keillor's script is so charming and smooth, so witty and wholesome, with spectacularly comical sequences such as one in which he improvises a commercial about duct tape. G.K. is a man who loves to tell stories of how he got involved with radio, and much to the dismay of Molly the stagehand, he always steps up to the microphone at the last possible minute because of this rambling. The mutterings that the show is about to end roll off his shoulder. He refuses to show sentimentality, and in his opinion, one should present themselves as if "every show is your last."
The two actors that steal this film are Woody Harrelson and John C. Reilly. As Dusty and Lefty, The Old Trailhands, they exhibit a threat to the backstage crew each time they perform because one never knows what will come out of their mouths. I have not laughed so hard at the movies in so long, but these two execute some of the most hilarious tunes ever captured on screen. When following Guy Noir around the theater, he inexplicably appears to get his hand stuck in just about every way fathomable. Kevin Kline portrays this private eye with panache, adeptness, and an overwhelming magnetism. Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin enahcne their splendid chemistry by exposing the tender, lighthearted, and cordial qualities of the Johnson sisters. This night will be a tribute to their mother, and before they sing "Goodbye to Mama" so wonderfully, they share stories of how their mother got them into music. As they put on their makeup, they educate Yolanda's daughter Lola on what happened to one sister, who was arrested for stealing a donut. Streep is of course fabulous and luminous, while Tomlin has never been better in her own right.
Lindsay Lohan seems to be constantly taking up space in the news, but for those who have been blinded of her natural talent due to her silliness in real life, should give her another chance. As Lola Johnson, Lohan is more at ease in this suitably contained role. Despite the difference between her lyrics, and that of her mother, Lola will make her debut on the show as long as time permits. Despite being an unwelcome visitor, Tommy Lee Jones' depiction of the Axeman is first rate with his trademark abrupt responses to every statement.
With his life winding down, Robert Altman has given the world perhaps one final work of art with A Prarie Home Companion. Along with Garrison Keillor's intimate screenplay, Altman expresses an admiration for the radio of the past with his sharp and unique cinematic techniques, quick invention, and expert camera angles. This is a mesmerizing souvenir of what radio used to be, and it establishes to everyone that even though radio's best days have fallen behind, the existence of an exultant and optimistic attitude of the past does not hurt anyone. Some are probably well aware of the fact that an actual "A Prarie Home Companion" radio show has been continually broadcasting for the past 25 years. This film is just a fictional complement.
As I was writing this review, I glanced at some other critics articles, and found that many of their descriptions mirror the same types of words that I utilized to explain this magnificent fable such as: whimsical, wacky, inventive, unpretentious, basic, exquisite, uproarious, and I could go on. That is the effect this glorious story has on the audience. As I was watching I felt the liveliness and enjoyment the other viewers were experiencing. That is an unbelievable feeling for a film critic.
In many ways, A Prarie Home Companion reminded me of Thank You For Smoking. Not because of the plot obviously, but because of the brilliant use of an all-star cast, each of whom have peculiar and specific quirks about them. Altman and Keillor's arrangement of various themes such as mortality, maturity, recognition, and buoyancy within the inner workings of a radio program are nothing short of majestic. Laced beautifully into the film are such absorbing, amusing, and satisfying music like "Coffee Jingle", "Gold Watch & Chain", "Red River Valley", and "Frankie and Johnny", that prove positively that this is one station everyone should turn their dial to.
The 411: This is just plainly a great and tremendous film in every way. The cast is comprised of some of the best talent around, and they all genuinely sing and perform on stage. Robert Altman may be afraid of negative reviews, but I think he should more than pleased with the response to this piece. It turns out you can buy audio CD's of various segments of the real "A Prarie Home Companion" radio show such as Guy Noir adventures, and so on. If this movie is playing at a theater near you, I cannot urge you enough to go see it.
