RED ENVELOPES: Keep A-Goin'

Amidst all the complaints about the movie Crash was the accusation that it relies on unbelievable coincidences, connecting people who have no business coming anywhere near each other. I'm wondering if any of these people saw Nashville. That film practically invented the unbelievable coincidence, with dozens of characters all coming together at the beginning and never entirely leaving each other's orbits until the end of the film. And it's considered a masterpiece.

Nashville was the last disc remaining from my feeble attempt at an in-house Oscar Film Festival. It made the cut as the signature piece of this year's Honorary Academy Award recipient, director Robert Altman. I'd long resisted Altman, probably because my initial exposure was through films like the turgid Popeye, 3 Women, which I vividly remember as one of the initial offerings when my family first got HBO back in 1977, and which I vividly remember as boring the crap out of me. He had this reputation as being weird and difficult, like some sort of cinematic James Joyce. Still, in my gut I know that's completely unfair, since I've thoroughly enjoyed other films of his, like M*A*S*H and Gosford Park, and especially The Player. So it seemed like the right time to give Nashville a shot.

The best thing I can say about Nashville is that it makes me feel like a complete idiot. Not that I couldn't figure out what was going on. For a story with 24 main characters (the opening credits cleverly spew out the names of the cast like a K-Tel commercial) and at least as many storylines, the movie is very clear and precise in laying out the many events that transpire over five days in the country music capital of the world. Nashville is sprawling, but not confusing. No, what I mean is that the movie is so dense, so rich with ideas and characterization, that I came away from it knowing that I couldn't possibly have absorbed everything the film has to offer. I felt not smart enough to get it.

I need to spend a little time on this point, because there are certainly films that half left me scratching my head. Movies in recent years have relied heavily on a twist, or creating a puzzle that you have to spend time figuring out later. I remember walking out of The Usual Suspects, dazzled at the way the film had just blown my mind. Hits like The Sixth Sense and Memento followed the same path in their own way. These films are highly entertaining, and to be sure, part of their appeal was they way they required viewers to deconstruct the film in their mind to figure out just what they'd seen. I remember running straight to the internet for help in deciphering Memento. And indeed, Hollywood has rushed to churn out "twist" movies left and right, because one hit movie equals a trend. (The result is movies like The Forgotten and The Jacket. But Nashville is not a headscratcher. It's a novel that just happens to be onscreen. A really complicated novel. A Dostoyevsky novel. A lot of films are described as being like a novel, but this is the real deal.

How does one sum up the plot of a film like Nashville? Poorly, I assume. Many people are coming to town, including popular country and folk singers, groupies, aspiring singers, an idiotic British reporter, and supporters of a Perot-esque third-party presidential candidate named Hal Phillip Walker, who has captivated the American public with his common-sense platform. (He wants to ban lawyers from Congress and change the national anthem. "Nobody knows the words," he complains.) We never see Walker, although his pre-recorded stump speeches are played back for the citizens of Nashville throughout the film. From the time of their arrival at the airport, they weave in and out of each other's lives, finally coming back together at a concert and rally for Walker.

Clocking in at a little over 2 1/2 hours, Nashville covers a lot of ground in a very short time. It takes a lot of memorable scenes to convey so much, and they're here in spades. Blakely's mental breakdown at a concert, the humiliation of Gwen Welles at a fundraiser, every quiet moment where Timothy Brown bits his tongue in the face of subtle racism, they all resonate. But the standout moment of the entire film has to be Keith Carradine's performance of "I'm Easy". He won an Oscar for the song, but let me be clear: the song is not great, and neither is his performance. But it's hard to imagine a better example on film of the power of music. As Carradine sings, four different women in the audience are each clearly under the impression that he is singing the song directly to her. The fact that he isn't -- he's an incurable womanizer -- is a superb example of the power of music to reflect back our own thoughts.

I've mentioned Nashville's huge cast, and it's to Altman's credit that everyone, from Ronee Blakely's fragile country star to David Arkin's disposable chauffeur, comes across as a fully realized character, someone who could easily take over the film if given the opportunity. But I'll single out one from the mass, because his performance so completely surprised me. Fair or not, I always think of Henry Gibson as the childlike, flower-toting poet from Laugh-In. Nothing could have prepared me for the power of his performance as a vain, fading country star. With a ludicrous toupée and a rhinestone-studden jumpsuit, he seems nothing short of absurd. But Gibson has remarkable gravity, conveying a wounded dignity while trying to maintain the appearance of supreme confidence. His appeal to the people in the face of a tragic occurrence is brilliantly realized. Why didn't his acting career develop? Was it because everybody in Hollywood thought like I did?

The best way to describe my feelings about Nashville is to tell you that, when I first sent it back to Netflix, I rated it three stars. I liked it, appreciated all that it accomplished, but didn't love it. I've since raised that rating to four stars, as the film sticks with me, and as I unravel the many plot threads in my mind. And who's to say that, somewhere down the line, I won't bump it up one more star. Nashville is a seven-course meal at a restaurant serving Happy Meals. I'm still figuring it out, and I don't think I'll have it solved anytime soon.

That's a remarkable feeling to get from a movie.