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Very disappointing...

Really Surprised!

Memorable, crazy movie

Good story, Not enough for a whole film

Entering into an Altman film is exactly that - 'entering'. We're never properly introduced to the characters as much as we are dropped into their world and made to keep track of the faces we meet along the way. Watching A Prairie Home Companion is to see a the great joy of creation - actors, writers, designers, musicians all allowed to roam free and do what they do best. The film is a sprawling homage to the radio show, and fans will find a lot to enjoy here. Familiar characters played by familiar actors pop in an out of each scene, giving the impression of a large family enjoying each others company. Though there was a working script, very little of the film feels scripted. Scenes flow from one chapter to another with a fast paced choreography which nods back to previous Altman films like 'Nashville', the action all taking place in a contained space, the actors playing off each other like a ping-pong tournament. This being Altman's final film - the woman in white no doubt signifies a lot more than might have been intended. You get the feeling that he felt the end was coming, and that he damn better well have fun before he got there.

Originally published on June 9, 2006:The pairing of Robert Altman ("M*A*S*H," "The Long Goodbye," "Come Back To The Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean," "The Player," "Gosford Park") and Garrison Keillor, the creator of the long-running radio show, "A Prairie Home Companion" (and author of "Lake Wobegone Days") for a film version of PHG may have seemed a bit odd at first, but the results are inspired.The former's frantic, non-stop dialogue-fueled energy mixes well with the latter's laid-back, down-home, almost sleep-inducing style (with a voice so syrupy you could pour it over your flapjacks), to create Altman's best ensemble work since 1975's "Nashville." In fact, there's a lot of that classic film in this telling of PHC's last night on the air.There's also some of "Waiting For Guffman" and "A Mighty Wind" vibe in the mix, making this film a parody and a homage all at the same time.Narrated by Kevin Kline (who plays security officer Guy Noir, complete with a decades old pinstriped suit), like Bogart's Sam Spade in any number of 1940s detective films, "Companion" weaves a fascinating tale of a radio variety show that should have "died 50 years ago; only no one told" the performers. Now, with a Texas corporation buying station WLT in St. Paul (the bloodsuckers represented by Mr. Axeman - Tommy Lee Jones, "Men In Black II"), and planning to shut it down, this is its last Saturday night performance.And what a bittersweet performance it is. Down home homilies, songs of faith, banjo and guitar pickers, sweet harmonics, a torch song or two, a pair of hilarious cowboys, Dusty and Lefty (Oscar nominees Woody Harrelson, "The People vs. Larry Flint" and John C. Reilly, "Chicago"), the singing Johnson sisters (Meryl Streep and "Nashville" vet, Lily Tomlin, the latter almost sure to get her second Academy Award nomination for this role), and commercial messages (for shoes, herring, rhubarb pie filling, coffee and powder-milk biscuits) that are blatantly ridiculous (yet oddly persuasive) - all presided over by Keillor's gentle ringmaster. By the way, even though he's basically playing himself, Keillor's performance is marvelous, as are all of the actors.These warm moments balanced out Altman's silly subplot of an Angel of Death (Virginia Madsen, "Candyman," "Sideways") who visits the set of that last episode, giving the entire enterprise a rather unnecessary otherworldly feel. I could have done without these distracting sequences, but they do not interfere with the overall work - too much.Nevertheless, with some powerful performances, some great tunes and skits (the bad joke song by Dusty and Lefty is the funniest thing I've seen on the screen in a long time), the crisp writing Altman and Keillor are known for, and an interesting storyline, "A Prairie Home Companion" is well-worth the effort to see (even though you may have to go a bit out of your way to do so). It's moving at times, and a bit surreal in places, but overall a thoroughly enjoyable slice of Americana.

The film chronicles the frenetic comings and goings backstage as the last-ever performance of a long-running radio show, featuring country music and variety acts, gets under way.A Prairie Home Companion is a delectable swan song to the career of its great director; Robert Altman died in November 2006. Minor in both key and stature, it's corny, good-natured and old-fashioned, rather like Garrison Keillor's real radio show that gives the film its title. Still, it has a decent story: the show is about to be taken over by a philistine Texas corporation and closed down. Fittingly, the shadow of death hovers gently over the story. It seems faintly symbolic, but Altman's camera drifts around backstage, peeking through curtains, nosing into nooks and crannies: a systematic way to convey information. Impeccable timing and effortless grace are the watchwords for this gentle, middle brow delight. The film had a successful limited release in the States and grossed $20,338,609 domestically and $25,978,442 worldwide.

Upon receiving an honorary Oscar at the 2006 Academy Awards, Altman revealed that he had been the recipient of a heart transplant approximately 10 years prior, and hadn't gone public out of fear that it would hinder his ability to get work. A few months later he passed away. Seen in that light, his swansong, A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION, acquires a bit of a special weight.You wouldn't know it was a movie done by an ailing 80 year old director if you looked at it. It feels as fresh and vibrant as Altman ever was - done with the sweetness and nostalgia of a director who knows his final curtain call is near. This is the kind of autumnal 'last film' I love to see from directors in their old age. It just clicks with me in just the right way. Even when the results are not as satisfying (John Huston's THE DEAD), I think people blessed with the means to express themselves in a creative manner ought to give us a little glimpse of the other side, share the lessons a lifetime of experience taught them with us one last time. If every movie is a case of the director telling us "I believe the world is like this", then how much more so with his last films.The final show of a radio company playing live in an old theater, before they're bought by a Texas corporation who wants to build a parking lot where the theater stands, is only the beginning. All the hallmarks of an Altman film are present. The loose plotting used by the director as a skeleton to hang his own real-life observations on, the overlapping dialogue, the camera canvassing the frame picking up little details as it goes on, an ensemble of first-rate actors (four Oscar winners among them) acting their hearts out like actors have always done for Altman. Meryl Streep once again shines with her brilliance; Lily Tomlin, Kevin Kline, John C. Reilly and Woody Harrelson are right there with her every step of the way.Altman could have tugged on the heartstrings really hard if he was so inclined. It's a coming-of-age story of life and death after all. Old country singers dying in dressing rooms, young girls getting their first crack at the stage. But Altman goes sweet and gentle and funny, sometimes too silly and whimsical for his own good, like old men know how to be, but to his credit he sticks with it. The movie begins with Kevin Kline playing manager Guy Noir (what's in a name, right?) giving us the lowdown in a very campy narration. Lots of running gags too; Reily and Harrelson as the duo of cowboys singing ribald songs. A long gag where the radio show host, singers and audio SFX man improvise live on-stage buying the script girl time to find the next ad - the show must go on. And the movie goes on in the same tragicomic vein.When Tommy Lee Jones as the cynic, coldhearted executive of the Texas corp. shows up in the Fitzgerald Theater to judge if the show should be cancelled, Altman is already piling up the winking-at-the-audience thick and fast. When he leaves in the end to meet a dubious end, Altman has absolved himself from all responsibilities to a story rooted in reality; instead he gives us a schematic condemnation of a dog-eat-dog world neither he or his characters have much place or use for. A sweet, heartfelt movie filled with songs about green pastures, ads about Powdermilk Biscuits, and strange women in white trenchcoats that may or may not be angels, A Prairie Home Companion is as good a last bow from a great American director as we're likely to get.