Short Cuts (1993)

Robert Altman’s sprawling, epic-length adaptation of various unrelated Raymond Carver writings is a foundational drama for me. When I first discovered it about 20 years ago in high school, I was completely mesmerized by it: From the long tracking shots to the overlapping dialogue to the focused, relaxed acting, it opened my eyes to the possibility of dramas as a viable source of entertainment (I had previously found most dramas to be too tedious). Make no mistake, there’s no real ‘story’ to be found here: It’s mostly about the interconnected lives of a variety of residents in and around Los Angeles with a very loose thread of urban medfly population control happening over the city, and how the human experience is predicated and proscribed by an inescapable fear of death. Among such an enormous cast, it’s hard to pick out my favorites because every single cast member is doing some career-best work: There’s Jack Lemmon delivering a one-scene monologue that could have earned him an Oscar, there’s Lili Taylor sauntering through scenes palpably in character, there’s Andie MacDowell doing some hair-raisingly believable footwork as a suburban mother facing a nightmare, there’s Julianne Moore doing an ice-queen routine that lets loose like a boiling kettle, etc. The list goes on and on, and virtually every actor here could have earned themselves an Oscar nomination, it’s just that kind of movie. You could watch it ten times in a row and focus on a different performance each time, and have an emotionally rewarding experience with every viewing. It’s by no means an optimistic movie (in fact, it’s borderline nihilistic in its passive condemnation of hypocrisy and selfishness) but it’s one that provokes vivid emotional responses in the viewer while making its case for consideration as one of the best, most meaningful and impactful movies of the 1990s.

Rating: ★★★★★ (out of 5)

The Player (1992)

Robert Altman’s casually vicious satire of the Hollywood film industry has perhaps lost some of its acidity over the decades, as audiences have found out more and more about the industry’s truly breathtaking depravity behind the curtains, but it’s still one of the best comedy/dramas of the ’90s. As with many of Altman’s work, the cast is almost ludicrously star-studded: In just about every scene, the screen is filled with blink-or-you’ll-miss-them cameos by A-listers a-plenty while the supporting cast is rounded out with terrific character actors who know exactly how to deliver Altman’s trademark conversational dialogue without anybody mugging for attention. It gives the overall movie a you-are-there, fly-on-the-wall vibe to the shady proceedings, while the plot and character dynamics demonstrate the interpersonal pettiness and grievances that clog up the movie-making process from beginning to end: Moviemaking is shown here as an arduous, meritless and artless process that’s mostly defined by how childish everyone behaves, in complete juxtaposition with the unearned arrogance they exhume. By the time the movie sends up the mainstream Hollywood “formula” for box-office success in the most satisfying way possible in its final shots, you’re ready to start watching the movie again to experience it as it’s ultimately intended, which is an indictment of unchecked privilege. Among the terrific performances, my personal favorite is Whoopi Goldberg as a Beverly Hills detective who masterfully manipulates leading man Tim Robbins in a funny and unexpectedly intense interrogation scene – she’s in complete control of the scene’s tone, and she walks away with the movie in the process.

Rating: ★★★★★ (out of 5)

Nashville (1975)

Robert Altman’s masterpiece is the very definition of a sprawling, multi-character narrative, not unlike 1999’s “Magnolia” or 2006’s “Bobby,” only with multiple filmed concert performances interspersed throughout. It’s the kind of all-star ensemble pieces that doesn’t really have a plot per se, but instead goes from character to character over the course of a few days prior to a political convention in Nashville, Tennessee, before finally linking them together in the end. Among the many, many famous faces, there are a number of stand-out performances, like Karen Black, Ned Beatty and the fascinating Barbara Harris, but the movie ultimately belongs to Ronee Blakley, whose overly mannered performance eventually reveals unforeseen truths and underlines her careful, subtle approach. Altman liberally employs the emblematically Altmanesque sound method of multiple overlapping conversations set to slow-motion pan shots, which has a vivid, “you are there” effect on the viewer that transcends even the decades since the movie’s release. There are as many concert scenes throughout the movie as there are non-musical scenes, with many country-and-western singers popping up to sing memorable country music on various stages, and although I’ve never been much of a country music fan, the music here is absolutely irresistible.

Rating: ★★★★★ (out of 5)

Knives Out (2019)

This is one of those big, fun ensemble comedies that used to be a lot more frequent in the 1990s. Maybe it’s a reflection of the reboot/sequel age of Hollywood mainstream movie-making expectations but I wasn’t quite sure what to make of an original property like this when it was out in theaters, but I’m sure glad I gave it a shot because it’s a delight. Unlike many ensemble comedies, this is one of those few where each member of the all-star cast is given several opportunities to shine, and the characters are unexpectedly, impressively well-developed, given how many there are and how interconnected all their dynamics are. Jamie Lee Curtis and Daniel Craig are the ostensible leads (and for Curtis, that’s primarily because of her steely command of the screen), and writer/director Rian Johnson does a great job of expanding the mystery of the central whodunit that propels the narrative forward by exploiting as much comedy out of the material via his talented cast and their terrific dialogue, while also laying a solid foundation for a number of prescient socio-political observations about wealth distribution without becoming pedantic or preachy. At over two hours it’s maybe a little on the overlong side, but when it’s all over, it’s definitely worth the ride and will likely stand up to repeat viewings.

Rating: ★★★★ (out of 5)