Ever since the Criterion Collection announced they would be
restoring and releasing Robert Altman’s radical revisionist western “McCabe
& Mrs. Miller (1971) I’ve been in a state of euphoria. Now that it’s been
released, and I’m sitting here in my family room with the Blu Ray in my hands,
I’m still shaking.
I feel as giddy as a fanboy. The way hardcore “Star Wars”
fans must have felt when it was announced that a new trilogy would be
dominating the multiplex, or how they’re going to feel when/if the original,
unaltered trilogy is finally released on video. Waiting for my copy to arrive
via Amazon I felt like one of those “Star Wars” nerds that camped outside the
theater for the next installment. If such a thing as “McCabe & Mrs.
Millercon" were to exist I would be first in the door, wearing my bear coat and
bowler hat, drinking my glass of scotch with a raw egg.
Am I being hyperbolic? Yes. Am I slightly embarrassing
myself? Yes. Am I making inside references to the film that you probably don’t
know? Yes. Do I care? Hell no.
I first encountered the film in high school (yes, you read
that right) on the recommendation of an
older family friend. On the first
viewing I liked it fine and moved on with my life. It didn’t immediately blow
me away. However something about it must have stuck with me because sometime
later I came upon a cheap DVD copy of it at a bookstore and figured I’d give it
another spin.
It played a lot better the second time through and with each
subsequent viewing I became more and more captivated by it. By its beautiful,
rugged scenery. The soothing, lyrical folk songs by Leonard Cohen. The off beat
humor as well as the sense of melancholy and impending doom hanging over
everything like a thick, dark rain cloud. Warren Beatty’s delightfully scraggly,
mumbling, foolish antihero. Julie Christie’s headstrong, whip smart and
impolite Cockney Madam. Their effortless onscreen charisma.
“McCabe & Mrs. Miller” is one of the most unique, immersive
Westerns I’ve ever seen and my favorite western. That’s right, favorite
western.
There’s a lot I could talk about. So to keep this piece from
being an overlong and rambling bulleted list about why this movie rocks, I’m
going to focus on the aspect I love the most. The aspect that immediately draws
me in; leaves me spellbound and brings me back again and again. That would be
the film’s overwhelming sense of time and place. “McCabe & Mrs. Miller is
set in the Pacific Northwest (you could call it a “Pacific Northwestern”)
during the 1900’s. On a basic level, the film is about the literal
construction/development of a frontier town called Presbyterian Church. The
protagonists, John McCabe (Beatty) and Constance Miller (Christie) are
entrepreneurs (among other things) and we watch as they transform Presbyterian
Church from a few tents and dingy shacks out in the middle of an untamed
wilderness, into bustling town. While all Westerns, on some level, deal with
the creation and preservation of civilization on the frontier, “McCabe &
Mrs. Miller” may be the only one to tackle the theme in such a blunt manner.
This focus on the building of a town mirrors the film’s
actual production. Shooting the film in Vancouver (back before it was cool to
make Canada your stand in for the Pacific Northwest) Altman and his crew
constructed a frontier town from scratch. The Presbyterian Church set was being
built during the production, meaning the film had to be shot sequentially. Altman
put the crew in period clothing so that they could continue to work; they can
be seen in some of the early shots building the town brothel and saloon.
Furthermore, Altman, the cast and the crew lived in the structures when they
weren't filming. That’s right, no fancy hotel rooms or trailers to retreat to
after a long day of filming.
While not an ensemble film the way Altman’s “Nashville” and
“Mash” are, “McCabe” never the less emphasizes the collective. Presbyterian
Church and its rag tag assortment of townsfolk is itself a primary character along
with McCabe and Miller. In fact it even has its own dramatic climax of sorts,
involving the communal effort to put out a church fire.
Altman creates a frontier world that’s deeply authentic and
intimate. It’s as
though Altman stumbled upon a real life frontier town* and simply followed the
characters around, and Leonard Cohen stopped by with his guitar to provide the
soundtrack. To achieve this, Altman uses
image and sound in fresh and innovative ways. Starting with image, Altman
and co. takes full advantage of this gloomy region. Leon Eriksen’s production
design relies on an earthy, muted color palette; various shades of brown and
grey dominate the exterior scenes. The viewer is constantly bombarded by heavy
rain, roaring wind and snow, the ground muddy and damp. While the interiors are
usually cramped and dimly lit--giving you a claustrophobic sensation. In terms
of image, “McCabe & Mrs. Miller” presents a vision of the frontier that’s
dirtier and less attractive (especially when compared to the neatness and
Technicolor polish of most studio Westerns) but one that more closely resembles
the real frontier. You feel filthy and cold just looking at it.
Going along with this gritty, realistic look is the
ingenious sound design. Altman is perhaps best known for pioneering the use of
overlapping dialogue. That is, we hear snippets of multiple conversations
happening at once. It’s closer to our own experience. When we’re at a party or
in a crowded room we hear an amalgamation of various conversations. Critic
Roger Ebert sums up this approach and its effect wonderfully: All of the characters know
each other, and the camera will not stare at first one and then another, like
an earnest dog, but is at home in their company. Nor do the people line up and
talk one after another, like characters in a play. They talk when and as they
will, and we understand it's not important to hear every word; sometimes all
that matters is the tone of a room.” Altman takes various fragments of
dialogue, whether they’re important lines or trivial small talk, and mixes them
into a rich, fascinating symphony of small town life.
This
fragmented approach to dialogue also informs the picture’s editing and overall
construction. It’s deliberately paced and meandering; less a traditional
three act plot and more a freewheeling collection of scenes depicting frontier
life. The supporting
townsfolk aren’t fleshed out the way McCabe or Miller are but through
conversational snippets and scenes (that happen around the film’s central
narrative) we get brief glimpses into their lives: for example, a bartender at
the local saloon contemplates whether he should trim his beard or not, an older
man named Bert gets a mail order bride and a young dopey cowboy rides into town
to spend a weekend at the town brothel.
Fragments
like these work to create atmosphere. Altman would rather linger on these miniature
episodes and interactions than drive a plot forward. In the context of the
Western genre, community has often played a substantial role— depictions of tight knit pockets of civilization in the midst of awe-inspiring landscapes and
wildernesses. This loose, fragmented style is perfectly suited to the genre. In
“McCabe & Mrs. Miller” the presence of the community and tight nit relationships
between individuals is strongly felt. The performances (from pretty much everyone
down to the one or two bit players) are natural and laidback, adding another
layer of authenticity. The conversational scenes have a raw, at times
improvisational, quality to them.
Ultimately,
Altman’s frontier is rich and multi faceted—a densely populated, pulsing world
that exceeds the bounds of the primary story or the film itself. It’s cheesy to
say but I’m saying it anyway, you feel like you’re there, as one of the townsfolk
watching everything unfold; the energetic conversations and mingling’s around
the poker table or in the brothel, or the various business negotiations McCabe
finds himself in.
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