General Assessment: I love this movie –
with its relentlessly languid pacing, its meticulous detailing at
the edges of the plot, and its (mostly grim) assessment of the
individual's capacity for love and personal achievement.
Essentially a romance at play within the bones of a Western, it
brings together two souls doomed to remain adrift in a world that
is stingy with its gifts and emoluments – and it does an
exquisite job of ennobling the sadness and futility of their
union. Ennobling futility: but he's a bumbling wannabe pimp who
ends up dead in a drift of snow and she's a social climbing whore
who ends up lost to an opium den, and neither is exactly blessed
with an astute take on the realities of the West? Yes! Yes! With
nothing given to them but a bleak and bedeviling frontier, it is
hard to begrudge the faults and illusions of restless souls who
take a stab at love (however atypical) and a steady (albeit
profane) way of life – indeed, you can't help but admire
their simple willingness to make a go of it – and Altman is
masterful in his articulation of this point. Like I said, I love
this movie. It strokes all of my soft spots.
- The cinematography, editing, and camera
work – and this includes the tight rapid-fire zooms
that Niner objected to as cheesy. I thought these zooms
did a fine job of both conveying milieu and character
complications; especially, for example, in scenes like
the one in which Altman zooms in on McCabe's bemused
expression when the young prostitute says she has to go
to the “potty” and doesn't think she can hold
it no more. That is, these zooms were an efficient means
of adding detail and characterization to the plot, and
helped make McCabe a far tighter film than Nashville,
which drags (ever so slightly).
- Altman's adept use of the audio elements
of the movie: including the overlapping dialogue and the
manner in which he incorporates the disheartening sound
of the wind and the rain. I am thinking, in particular,
of the scene in which Keith Carradine is shot.
- I loved how Altman often added to his
characterizations without resorting to contrived dialogue,
but instead just alluding to personality details with his
camera – see especially Shelley Duvall's largely
unspoken but fully developed role. And
- The Leonard Cohen ditties. I realize that
they aren't exactly everyone's cup of tea, but (for me)
the lyrics helped bring an added depth to the movie. Key
phrases – like “You hate to see another tired
man lay down his hand like he was giving up the holy game
of poker” and “Its hard to hold the hand of
anyone who is reaching for the sky just to surrender”
– plus the general troubadour imagery, and the
manner in which Cohen transposes the male into the female
parts and vice-versa all combine to blur the line between
the sacred and the profane while illuminating the
psychology of our protagonist lovers.
Although, my appreciation of Mr. Cohen's
ditties may have more to do with the wanderings of my own crotch,
than they do with a proper assessment of their merits and proper
place within Altman's movie. However, I will say that Niner's
dismissal of them as “hideous tripe” is a somewhat
churlish assessment. Hey, he's got his Leonard (Elmore) and I
have mine.
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