McCABE & MRS. MILLER
(Robert Altman, 1971) R
Reviewed: June 11, 2002
McCabe & Mrs. Miller establishes
its own distinctly somber mood like few movies ever have. The story is simple,
the dialogue is sparse and sometimes even unintelligible, but it is Altman's inimitable,
stupendous directorial hand and Warren Beatty's impeccable acting (as the often
clueless, entrepreneurial and floundering antihero McCabe), that manages to create
magic in almost every scene.
Julie Christie plays Mrs. Miller, a wise prostitute who goes into business with
McCabe on a brothel. What's fascinating is how thoroughly McCabe & Mrs. Miller
subverts Western gender roles (along with most every other classical Western convention;
click here for my specific elaboration
on one such convention). Here the female character is more intelligent and savvy
than her male counterpart (and I don't just mean about business and females; she
clearly knows more than McCabe about lots of facets of Western life). But this
is not a love story. Mrs. Miller and McCabe come to care for each other with a
subtle, tentative longing, though when they sleep together it's just another john
paying the madam.
McCabe & Mrs. Miller's script is almost besides the point; it's rock solid,
but plays like an afterthought, which in fact it was. After the cast and Altman
had already signed onto the project, both Beatty and Altman agreed their current
script was too cliché-ridden and would have to be axed. So they tore the
script apart scene by scene, but whereas Altman wanted the cast to just improvise
most of the movie, Beatty wanted concrete pages. And as Beatty tells it, he would
work every night in his basement on the script to make sure there was something
the cast could say to each other every day (all of his alleged work on the screenplay
is uncredited).
The final film plays as a compromise somewhere in between the two men's ideas,
a combination of loosely scripted improv and well-defined scenes. Yet every piece
feels like an integral part of the same whole because Altman ties McCabe &
Mrs. Miller together with an overriding tone -- a fabric embedded deep in every
frame -- facilitated in no small part by the sad, wistful songs of Leonard Cohen
and Vilmos Zsigmond's burnished-postcard cinematography. In my recent review of
Altman's The Long Goodbye, I mentioned Zsigmond would often double expose
the negative on that film (this technique is called flashing) to make it look
gritty and worn. In fact he first pioneered the technique (per Altman's suggestion)
on McCabe and the result is a yellowish hue and a dirtiness of gloriously miserable,
possibly unprecedented proportions. Likewise, the production design on McCabe
& Mrs. Miller is miraculous. The entire film takes place in the bleak northwest
town of Presbyterian Church, which was meticulously designed by Altman's team
from scratch.
It's remarkable how far Altman and company took the Western from the iconic image
of the hero riding off into the sunset. Here is the opposite. Here is a Western
where the rain and snow and opium and sadness ride you.
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