Reeling Backward: Nashville

“Iconic” is such an overused word in today’s parlance that we’re all sick of it. However, there are a few motion pictures whose status simply cannot be described any better way. “Citizen Kane” and “Gone With The Wind” are, obviously, iconic. Certain newer titles fall into this category. Think “Schindler’s List” and “Saving Private Ryan.”

But for now, let’s focus on 1975. It was an excellent year for Hollywood, as Steven Spielberg churned out his first bona fide hit (the instant classic “Jaws”), and voila! The summer blockbuster was born. Later in the year, Al Pacino turned in perhaps his best performance ever in Sidney Lumet’s “Dog Day Afternoon,” and likewise for Jack Nicholson in Milos Forman’s “One Flew Over The Cukoo’s Nest.” Yes, it was a year for heavy-hitters. But then Robert Altman released “Nashville,” leaving all the others in its wake.

In ’75, Altman was still a young director, yet he had already developed a string of critical favorites. In 1970, he turned the war movie genre upside down with “M*A*S*H” – an anti-war film that intentionally looked sloppy and homemade. So not only was military protocol presented as pure buffoonery (a la “Dr. Strangelove” or “Catch-22”), but the actual appearance of the film itself ran counter to every war movie convention.

He followed that with “McCabe And Mrs. Miller,” which did the same for the Western. Rather than the standard triumphant ending, we recall Warren Beatty slowly dying in the snow — unable to move, and with no one available to help. In “The Long Goodbye,” Altman revised the neo-noir private eye yarn in a similar fashion.

But no one had ever made a picture about the country music industry — or any music industry, for that matter (discounting, perhaps, “The Great Ziegfeld”). At its outset, “Nashville” introduces us to a huge cast, featuring everyone from the movers and shakers of the industry to the outcasts and miscreants hoping to someday make it big. Add to that a related story about a third-party presidential candidate, and we have the makings of a wild ride through five days in the music city.

To attempt a plot summary would manifest about 10 more pages to scroll, so I’ll skim the highlights. Lily Tomlin plays Linnea, a country singer currently recording a gospel album with a black choir. Her husband, Del (the always spot-on Ned Beatty) is a political fundraiser for the unseen Replacement Party presidential candidate, Hal Phillip Walker, who is planning a rally at the Parthenon in Nashville. Linnea is having an affair with small-time country singer Tom (played by Keith Carradine), while Del is trying to persuade country superstar Haven Hamilton (Henry Gibson, a “Laugh-In” co-star of Tomlin’s) to sing at the Walker fundraiser in exchange for Walker’s support in the governor’s race.

All told, “Nashville” follows a whopping 24 characters, many of whose story arcs overlap in some way. Think “Short Cuts,” only with even more imbrication. Some (but certainly not all) of the characters represent actual members of the 1970s country music fraternity – Gibson’s Haven Hamilton is loosely based on powerful country star and record executive Chet Atkins (with a little Porter Wagoner thrown in his performances), while Ronee Blakley’s Barbara Jean is reminiscent of country music queen Loretta Lynn, and Karen Black’s Connie is a dead ringer for Lynn Anderson. The huge cast also includes Tim Brown (an obvious Charley Pride), Shelley Duvall, Scott Glenn, Barbara Harris, Michael Murphy, Keenan Wynn, and a very young Jeff Goldblum.

Geraldine Chaplin plays the role I like to call the “narrator.” She doesn’t actually narrate, but she plays a British journalist working on a documentary about the Nashville scene. Her press-credential eavesdropping and occasional interviews of other characters allow us to peer into the seedy (and often rigged) underside of not only the country music world, but of the entire entertainment industry. This is essentially the role Kevin Kline played in Altman’s “A Prairie Home Companion.”

Somewhat ironically, it is not difficult to keep these diverse characters straight. In itself, this is a stroke of directorial genius. But once again, Altman skewers a conventional tenet of filmmaking in that his characters talk over one another on multiple soundtracks. Altman first explored this editing technique of overlapping dialogue in “M*A*S*H” (which resulted in the “sloppy” feel I referred to earlier), but in “Nashville,” he really lets it fly. We feel as though we are dropping in on actual conversations — that none of these actors is actually “acting,” in the purest sense. There’s no Marlon Brando method acting here. We’re witnessing life as it occurs, yet Altman always ensures we hear the most important dialogue above the others.

The Walker campaign organizers drive around town (and therefore in and out of the film) spewing pro-America platitudes from a loudspeaker on top of their van. Altman occasionally lets us hear the folksy political blather, but it’s often relegated to a background interference, exemplifying the notion that the careers and love lives of our characters is of greater importance than the direction of our country. Periodically, the loudspeaker sounds eerie, as if to sarcastically call attention to a forthcoming disaster (in America, literally, and in the film, stylistically).

Having recently seen “Nashville” again, I am amazed at how well Altman’s masterpiece has persevered over time. With a few changes in wardrobe, hair styles and an update in musical sound, this picture could be released today and still manage the same impact as it did 40 years ago. In fact, the final Parthenon concert scene now preternaturally foreshadows the real-life assassination of John Lennon five years later.

While the country music family hated Altman’s film, it really has nothing to do with country music per se. Rather, it is a scathing study of pop culture, and the business of entertainment marketing. On one level, “Nashville” works as an inventive character study; on another, it is a mordant indictment of American culture.

Robert Altman was obviously at the top of his game with “Nashville.” It ranks as one of the greatest achievements in filmmaking. While any critic would have to say Altman’s career peaked with “Nashville,” he sure gave us some gems late in his career — “The Player,” “Cookie’s Fortune,” “A Prairie Home Companion” and 1993’s “Short Cuts,” which was similar in nature and style to “Nashville,” only set in the detached world of modern-day Los Angeles. While “Short Cuts” is my second favorite Altman film, nothing compares to “Nashville.” Much as with occasional re-readings of Mark Twain’s “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” viewers can re-watch “Nashville” every few years and get something new out of it. So illuminate your life, and return to this expose of the genius of Robert Altman every now and again.