I'm on vacation in Arizona this week, hence sparse posting.
We watched "A Prairie Home Companion" on DVD the other night. Being a fan of Robert Altman (especially "Gosford Park") and a Minnesotan, I expected to enjoy it despite the mixed reviews I'd read. But I didn't. The bits that were supposed to be funny were not funny. The bits that were supposed to be dramatic were not the least bit interesting or surprising. It was dull. No, it was worse than dull. It caused me pain.
I blame it on Garrison Keillor and his shit-for-script. Sometimes I listen to his radio show (when we happen to be in the car of a Saturday evening), and I've decided it's 90% crap and 8% so-so and 2% stingingly observant re. Midwestern habits, values, and people. His singing falls into that 90% category. If I turn it on and hear his yodel, I can't snap that radio off fast enough.
To use a phrase of my friend Girl Detective, this movie made me go "meh." Only this "meh" was far beyond a nonplussed shrug. It was a meh of bitter disappointment, of pain, of sorrow, of pity for poor Robert Altman whose last movie had to be such a...such a...words fail me.
Let me put it this way: in a movie which featured Meryl Streep, the highlight of said film was a scene of Woody Harrelson and John C. Reilly telling dirty jokes.
MEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
[She falls down dead.]
Curtain.
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