A Prairie Home Companion
Director: Robert Altman
Grade: B

I’ve felt like an outsider at movies before, but none so much as I did during A Prairie Home Companion. I must here confess that I do not share the comic sensibilities of Garrison Keillor. I acknowledge its subtlety and the whimsical nature with which Keillor orchestrates his situations, but as Virginia Madsen’s angelic character observes after one of Keillor’s jokes in the film “why’s that funny?”

The film, at least, provides one with no definitive answer; perhaps fans of Keillor could illuminate the matter further. I suppose humor, much like beauty, lies in the eyes (or, in this case, ears) of the beholder. Luckily, A Prairie Home Companion has no shortage of beauty. In that regard, I could enjoy the movie on at least one level, if not being thoroughly entertained by its comedy.

The film, directed so elegantly by master filmmaker Robert Altman, proves so effective in generating that nostalgic tone that I’m sure was Keillor’s goal that I feel a certain satisfaction simply watching it unfold. Keillor and Altman frame Prairie Home as a final live presentation of the popular radio show of the same name. The camera moves deftly between the onstage performance and the backstage goings-on as those involved in the show reminisce about the time they’ve spent on the program, the fonder days of their youth, those that are no longer with them, and those that will soon be gone.

As usual, Altman works confidently with a sprawling cast that includes flighty singer Yolanda Johnson (Meryl Streep), her equally chatty sister Rhonda (Lily Tomlin), Yolanda’s jaded daughter Lola (Lindsey Lohan) who idles away at poetry concerning suicide, a vulgar country-western duo Dusty and Lefty (Woody Harrelson and John C. Reily) and bumbling gumshoe and backstage security guard Guy Noir (Kevin Kline) who appears to have walked straight out of a Billy Wilder film.

The performances are strong and the situations often amusing, but far too much time is devoted to the musical numbers, which are, at best, passable, but mostly superfluous. The best of the lot, incidentally, arrives when Lindsay Lohan takes the stage near the end. Her performance marked the first time one of the songs elicited a chuckle from me, and although this may be the first and last time I’ll ever say this, I really wished the movie contained more of her.

The film will appeal to different audiences in different ways. As for me, I admired its skill and felt amused by its quirky nature, but inevitably regard it as too precious to all together recommend. Clearly none of this holds a candle to Altman’s masterpiece Nashville that approaches a similar tone as employed here, but pushes it into darker and more provocative territory. If you want a revolutionary work that boldly confronts our future while pushing the limits of cinematic technique, give that film a second look; but if you prefer to wile away your time consumed by a vague nostalgia for a gentler era that may have never existed, perhaps A Prairie Home Companion is the perfect film for you.