THE PLAYER
A film review by Jon Conrad
Copyright 1992 Jon Conrad
What sheer unadulterated joy. I loved THE PLAYER from start to finish. I don't think a movie has plunged me into this kind of bliss since... well, since NASHVILLE possibly. (Okay, there have probably been a few others since 1977 for me.) Once Robert Altman was one of my favorite people on earth; he lost me somewhere around QUINTET and A PERFECT COUPLE, but he sure has won me back now. He still has It.
I guess that to enjoy THE PLAYER you have to enjoy "the movies" as an idea. Both to enjoy a story that, for all its wider applicability, is definitely about the Industry as it exists at this moment, and to enjoy all the in-jokes and self-reference with which the movie is stuffed. All of these were so deftly done that I don't think I ever stopped grinning foolishly. (Damn, I have to go again soon!) Definitely don't be late; if you are, you'll miss an amazing 8-minute tracking shot in which the plot exposition takes place in several locations simultaneously, without a single editing cut (and we hear snatches of a conversation about famous long tracking shots that open favorite movies -- there goes that self-reference again).
One problem remains unsolved, I guess. With several dozen big and medium-sized names appearing "as themselves," it's sometimes hard to tell whether a fairly well-known actor, turning up later in the movie, is playing a role or not. (Whoopi Goldberg, Fred Ward, Sydney Pollack, Dean Stockwell all evoke this kind of momentary disjuncture.) But it's not a huge problem, and Altman again gets extraordinary performances from all his cast. Tim Robbins, Greta Schacchi, Peter Gallagher have never been better on-screen. How does a director who simply seems to be sitting back and letting performers do their thing, work this kind of magic so consistently? (The first time Carol Burnett really released her special qualities on film was in A WEDDING. Think also of Ronee Blakley and Lily Tomlin in NASHVILLE, Julie Christie and Warren Beatty in MCCABE AND MRS. MILLER, and many many more.)
The story takes unexpected turns and doesn't take turns one would expect, but all of that turns out in retrospect to be exactly right. The ending is both offhandedly perverse and exactly, hilariously right. I saw M*A*S*H in theaters maybe 15 times, NASHVILLE perhaps 20. I wonder what kind of total I'll rack up for this newest addition to the Altman canon. It'll be fun finding out!
Jon Alan Conrad
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