Nashville | | Cast : | Karen Black, Ronee Blakley, Keith Carradine, Shelley Duvall, Allen Garfield | | Director : | Robert Altman | | Studio : | Paramount Home Video | | Format : | Color, Closed-captioned, Widescreen, Dolby | | Released Date : | January 01, 1975 | | DVD Released Date : | March 01, 2004 | | Language : | English (Dubbed), English (Subtitled), English (Original Language) | | Audience Rating : | R (Restricted) | | | BUY THIS DVD FROM AMAZON |
Customer Reviews
| Rating |  | | Date | March 21, 2005 | | Summary | The Rules in Rhinestones | Content
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Beneath it's sequined veneer, Robert Altman's Nashville recalls the director's acknowledged hero Jean Renoir and his 1939 masterwork The Rules of the Game. Like Rules, Nashville observes a society engulfed in its own pretensions and tells a cautionary tale that would later prove tragically prophetic (Rules was released on the eve of the German invasion; Nashville would predate John Lennon's assassination by 5-years). But it's the characters themselves that are most informed by the forbearance. There are more than a few strains of similarity between Henry Gibson's Haven Hamilton, for example, and Marcel Dalio's Robert de la Chesnay. Notice how Haven delivers the cloying ballad "For the Sake of the Children" to the Grand Ole Opry audience and compare to Chesnay's proud and self-conscious display of his latest calliope. Barbara Jean closely recalls Christine; a tortured starlet who grows exasperated amongst a throng of admirers. Likewise, Scott Glenn's marine approximates André Jurieu and his pathetic single-minded devotion. Most notably, the running social commentary blaring from the omni-present presidential campaign van is a uniquely 70s Americana update to Octave, Renoir's own character who provides the "moral voice" in The Rules of the Game.
However, if the characters and plot points strike a similarity, the stylistic footprint left by each director could not be more different. Renoir's work is insular, meticulous and choreographed, whereas Altman's is expansive and consciously undisciplined. This allows for some moments of unsanitized satirical magic; witness the pom-pom rifle brigade at the airport or the giggling audience members at the Opry, but it also exposes Nashville's few major flaws. The beautifully understated satire sometimes boils over into screwball territory, as when Geraldine Chaplin interviews a phalanx of cars at a junkyard or a bit player pontificates about the Kennedy assassination. Likewise, the unannounced cameos by Hollywood actors; especially those from previous Altman pictures, smacks of self-parody and threatens to expose the transparency of the filmmaking process itself. Where this works beautifully in The Player, it stands out awkwardly in the country music universe of Nashville. Given the documentarian zeal of Altman's vision, however, one is more than willing to forgive him the occasional in-joke. |
| Rating | | | Date | January 17, 2005 | | Summary | Crowded House | Content
| Like alot of Robert Altman films, "Nashville" is an interesting film but the large cast and numerous plot threads seem to trip over one another. Ultimately, I wonder what Altman is trying to say because his message is not coherent. There's just too much information being thrown at us. The size of the cast gave few of the actors a chance to really shine with one exception. Gwen Welles as a waitress who deludes herself that she is a good singer gives a truly heartbreaking performance that will stay with you. The music in the film isn't particularly memorable. My understanding was that the city fathers of Nashville were not particularly helpful with this production because Altman's liberal sensibilities did not exactly cohere with the town's conservative bent. One thing I can say about this disc is Altman delivers an engaging commentary. Even if your not a fan of Altman's work check out his commentaries on this film, "M*A*S*H", and "McCabe and Mrs. Miller." |
| Rating | | | Date | January 16, 2005 | | Summary | One of the greatest American films | Content
| There have been few American films in the latter half of the twentieth century quite so influential as NASHVILLE, which attempts to sum up no less than the feelings of homelessness and betrayal in American life after the Sixties and Watergate, and the way popular culture acts to ameliorate these problems and to blind us to them as well. The film covers five days in the life of 24 characters in the summer of 1975, as a campaign manager assembles a series of country western stars for a benefit concert for a third-party candidate at the Nashville Parthenon in Centennial Park; along the way we get a kind of thin slice of each of their lives, and a look in particular at their relation to poltics, to sexual and racial mores, and to the country-music industry. Although the DVD does not have the kind of extras that a film of this stature deserves, it still has a very intriguing commentary by Robert Altman that shows you what a happy accident much of the film turned out to be: how some of the most famous and oft-quoted bits of dialogue (such as Barbara Baxley's heartfelt ode to the Kennedy brothers) were improvisations of the cast at the time. The film has a kind of texture and richness to it that almost no other film before it could macth, and it has been imitated (by Altman himself, among others) since it first appeared. What most of the imitations have missed, however, is the kind of linchpin that Ronee Blakeley's performance as Barbara Jean, the central character, provides. Lovely and special, Blakely makes evident why the public and the other country-western stars adores her character so much (there's a marvelous bit of business in the famous "Opry Belle" sequence that makes this clear when Barbara Jean first walks onstage to perform: she is gallantly escorted out by one of the dancers and waves to her fans from a doorway; only as the intro to the song swells does she step up close to them and to the camera to begin her first great number, "The Cowboy Song"). Although most of the film's other performers cannot sing very well and their numbers are mostly terrible (which is part of Altman's point: country music at the time was primarily a democratic folk art gaining enormous popularity), Blakely's Barbara Jean is an extraordinary singer. Her beautiful final song, "My Idaho Home," which is used at the film's great climax, provides a kind of summa for the entire movie in its fond memories of a unified Amnerican family life despite hardship and deprivation. This is Altman's greatest and most famous film, and deserves repeated viewings. |
| Rating | | | Date | December 15, 2004 | | Summary | Altman is alive and well... | Content
| After "MASH", Robert Altman made some exceptional films, most notably "McCabe & Mrs. Miller". He loved the idea of the ensemble cast. "Nashville" is the first of his mind-blowing endeavors to bring multiple incredible characters together. At 3 hours, the film is not boring for a minute, Character development is so complete. To single out a performance would be tough, but I really liked Barbara Harris as the confused and goofy wannabe who actually brought it all together at the end. Oscar nominated performances from Lily Tomlin and Ronee Blakely (in her film debut) were impressive, as well as Henry Gibson, and a particularly touching performance by Keenan Wynn.Altman is a very precise director, and his devotion to the proceedings is prevalent throughout. The fact that Joan Tewkesbury's amazing screenplay received no recognition still escapes me. Every song in this film is original, and all are great. Blakely's songs are well presented, but one of the most devastating moments is when Keith Carradine sings "I'm Easy" (Oscar winner). It's the first time I remember a Best Song winner being an integral part of the plot of the film (possible exception: Que sara sara from "The Man Who Knew Too Much"). While Carradine sings this song, every woman in the audience thinks he's singing it to her. There are repercussions. Altman is always great, and only gets greater. His next film, "Three Women", was more intimate and so brilliant. The epitome of Altman ensemble has to be "Short Cuts", but don't miss "Cookie's Fortune" or "Gosford Park". "Nashville" is a true American original. Don't miss it! |
| Rating | | | Date | December 05, 2004 | | Summary | I just thought I'd share with you... | Content
| I apologize for the disorginization of this review. I wrote it quickly and in an enthralled state, both factors that do not often contribute to a well-written essay. Nevertheless, I hope I provide some insight into the wonder of 'Nashville' for those who've yet to see it or hear about it, though I'm sure most have.
'Nashville' is a film taking place in, you guessed it, Nashville, Tennessee during the Opry. However, the wonder of 'Nashville' is that I cannot continue to tell you what it is about. In fact, the film doesn't even surround the Opry, let alone a central story. On the surface, this film concerns the lives of many people (at least 24 major characters) scattered about Nashville going on with their lives, yearning to somehow break into the Country Western/Bluegrass music scene, and others who are on the sidelines watching; there are even political candidates and gospel singers. Beneath the surface, each person is in some way wounded or flawed or unusual. Like Roger Ebert says in his essay on this film, "it is a tender poem to the wounded and to the sad." 'Nashville' is certainly a poem; a well-constructed poem balancing these many lives, characters, jokes, tears, and deaths all to reflect American sensibilities (with political undertones, of course; keep in mind this film was made in the late 70s).
First and foremost, the characters are immensely memorable. I happen to have two favorites: Lily Tomlin's gospel singer with deaf children who seems to be unhappy with a busy husband who insists on disrespecting their condition; Geraldine Chaplin's BBC reporter, babbling on into her microphone in metaphor and melodramatic description before returning to Bluegrass bars and sticking the mic into the noses of the famous and the observant. As Roger Ebert points out, Chaplin's character becomes even more interesting when you begin to doubt her position as a BBC reporter. She seems to journey on alone, having affairs and wandering about garbage dumps all the while speaking into her tape recorder, no camera man in sight, though she claims he exists whilst complaining he's never there to get "the perfect shot."
Each and every character has some sort of memorable attribute. Director Robert Altman (who is a master at his craft) is incredibly skilled at both introducing each character and allowing each to have his or her moment that cements them into our heads while contributing to the message and tone of the film. No other director has ever seemed to pull this cinematic structure off quite as well as he; not even the other famed ensemble auteur, John Sayles (of what I've seen of Sayles' work, anyway). As each character returns here and there, interweaving with situations and places and people while others may be upfront and they in the sidelines, one is able to recognize all of them, reveling in the memory of their signature qualities. However, the characters are not left unconnected; Geraldine Chaplin's reporter and Jeff Goldblum (to a lesser extent than Chaplin) are the inter-connecting tissue. But despite containing a plethora of characters and an extensive running time, the film itself is at times sweeping, interesting, terribly sad, and heartbreakingly honest; it is great for reasons beyond excellent and unique characterization. The perfect moment among many comes when a womanizing Country star, played fantastically by Keith Carradine, sings his song, which would be Oscar-nominated after the film's release.
(spoiler warning)
The song is "I'm Easy." By the time this performance arrives, Carradine's womanizer Tom has slept with or seduced four of the major women in the film: Shelly Duvall's quirky young Californian, Chaplin's BBC reporter, his music partner's lover, and Lily Tomlin's gospel singer. All are at the same performance hall when Tom begins to sing the debut of "I'm Easy," a song he says he wrote recently. Thus, all four women believe the song has been written for them. This scene is constructed and executed with utmost cinematic precision, and it is perhaps my favorite in the film and in possibly most films I've seen in my life time. Its power is unending, its wit astounds. If the rest of the film were dreck I'd still recommend it for this single, solitary moment. You see the camera traveling to each woman's face: one is pleased, one is secretive, one is sickly in love, while the final face is mesmerized, a resonant, profound look of need and of passion: she may have found solace. This is Tomlin's face, and I dare not ruin how her inner thoughts so gracefully explored on-screen manifest. I would risk limiting the affect anything following this scene may have on you if you choose to watch 'Nashville' for the first time.
The film does not peak at greatness just there. It perhaps has many peaks, as it has many characters and story arcs. 'Nashville' proves to be profound in the littlest of things and never over-the-top when reaching for the grandiose. Its structure is so well done, allowing the characters to be varied in every sense and still memorable as the credits role. Therefore, one may take away everything and anything from Nashville.' There is so much to enjoy and to ponder. Even the signature music begins to grow on you, whether you enjoy country music or not. I write with passion because 'Nashville' is a film that ignites the desire to love, to live, and to understand. I recommend Robert Altman's 'Nashville' to not just those who enjoy music or those who enjoy Altman films, but to the human race. I guarantee you will hold no regret, as it is visceral and intimate, beautiful and dark from beginning to end. 'Nashville' defines "great." |
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