FRUSTRATING FILMOGRAPHIES
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In Buffalo Bill, Altman cast Newman as a pathetic charlatan playing a hero in a romantic setting (the old west); in Quintet, Newman is a reluctant hero in an unromantic setting. Cody is a womanizing lout whose sexual impotence is symbolized in a scene where he unsuccessfully shoots at a tiny caged bird. Essex is established as virile despite his age (he has a young, beautiful companion, miraculously pregnant in a society where all women are thought to have become barren) and marvels when he sees a majestic bird in flight: a sign of hope that's soon to be extinguished. Both are failed trackers - buffalo and seals respectively - but whereas Essex, an optimist, is a man who "hunts seals where there are no seals" (is that like the plane in North by Northwest that dusts crops where there ain't no crops?), Bill, an opportunist, can't find an Indian who is right in front of him ("Any tracker will tell you if you don’t know what you’re after you’d best stay home," Ned Buntline offers.) By all evidence, Essex was a more traditionally heroic role for Newman, although if Buffalo Bill turned the lovable Newman into an impotent, racist, delusional cad, Quintet drains him of all discernable charm, and this time it doesn't come off as playing against type. Even his blue eyes that shone so brilliantly in Buffalo Bill have turned a milky gray to match the desolate lighting design- he looks like he's aged twenty years in the three since Bill. Once he loses his companion, he betrays nothing beyond the motivation to discover what's going on. It's understandable why Newman would want to be in the movie - it's an off-beat premise and without a huge ensemble he is unequivocally the focus of the film - but his character's job is to do practically nothing until the end of the movie, when he doesn't so much take revenge as defend himself from being killed. There are plenty of characters but no familiar faces from the director's stable: besides Newman and Vittorio Gassman (who was in A Wedding), these are all first-time Altman actors. It's as if Altman warned his usual merry pranksters like Elliott Gould and Shelley Duvall away from the project to protect them from its unmerciful bleakness, although ironically his giant casts in films like Nashville and Buffalo Bill never threaten to mechanize the characters in a way that Quintet purposely sets out to do. The performances of Newman and the other actors are so subdued and defeated, and they're shot in such dark tones as to literally blend in with the neutral backgrounds, that they practically disappear in Quintet's remote world rather than stick out as Altman's characters so often do. The zoom shots that find the characters are confining where they are usually liberating, although, through one dubious and glaring stylistic choice, Altman actually focuses on actors here more than ever...
Like 3 Women, Altman claimed that Quintet was based on a (presumably pot-infused) dream, and like that previous Fox release its aesthetic is honed into the disconnected unpredictablity of a fever dream. Notably, Buffalo Bill features an actual fever dream of Cody being visited by the spirit of Sitting Bull that doesn't feel anything like a dream; 3 Women, the proceeding production, maintained a hallucinatiory sense throughout. It works better in 3 Women, where Altman could manipulate the familiarity of modern sets and make something like a swimming pool seem otherwordly - Quintet had to establish a world salvaged from the former "Man and his World" exhibition at the abandoned Expo '67 site in Montreal where Altman and his crew set up shop. Both films have lots of scenes set in hotel rooms, but the term is loosely applied to what look more like frozen storage closets in Quintet. Warping the commonplace to seem surreal is an easy way to captivate an audience and guide them into the weird world of the film, but it takes work to create a futuristic setting out of a bizarre "found" location (Altman had utilized the best of both worlds by turning the Astrodome into the labyrinth habitat of Brewster McCloud.) So to help visualize the dreamlike tone, Altman made the questionable decision to smear the corners of his camera lens with vasoline, creating a weird soft gel around the image so that the characters are constantly encircled in a foggy iris shot. This has the double effect of making it seem like the world is so cold even the camera has iced over, but even that angle doesn't make the movie seem any less dated. Soft focus was a staple of the 70's, and to suffuse DP Jean Boffety's already hazy photography - blown out in the white exteriors and muddy in the dark interiors - with this lens effect was sure way to ensure the film would never transcend its place in time. Not to mention of course that it's a chore on most viewer's eyes to try to compensate for the blurry edges of the screen. It's also out of Altman's comfort zone: instead of having free reign to locate a face in the crowd or emphasize a moment, the director's zooms slide in and out of the foggy edges to take the shot to what's already been established as its focal point by the bright bullseye framing.
Not that there isn't plenty worth looking at. The impressive production design by Leon Ericksen (who also did McCabe and Images and worked in different positions on six other Altman movies including special makeup effects artist in Brewster McCloud, which must mean he was the one responsible for turning Rene Auberjonois into a bird) makes good use of the location and adds a number of pre-made props and weapons. It's admittedly a little gaudy - in fact, it's surprising that De Laurentiis didn't produce this movie considering the garish art direction. A directory of mirrors, suspended and spinning off the floor, is a cool concept until you realize it's little more than an arty mall map; still, the webs of shattered glass is a great touch. A "found" piece of set decoration that's hard to accept with a straight face are the enlarged photo tapestries of various stages of human suffering, pretentious photojournal snapshots adorning the holy chamber (leftover from the "Man and His World" exhibit) that serve as background to Grigor and his harangues on humanity (Woody Allen appears to almost parody this production design in Stardust Memories, released the following year.) I'm willing to cut Altman slack since finding these admittedly neat drapings must have proved too great a temptation not to include, but they are distracting (he ended up transporting them back to his New York apartment after production.) Buffalo Bill is set largely outdoors but feels confined to Cody's office where the character constantly returns to retreat into his "real" self, but the indoor enclosures of Quintet seem limitless as Altman traverses his mammoth indoor set, seeking out the civilization confined to the tiny areas of the city, one reduced to abstract images and fading sculptures - the fragments of memory. Forget Zardoz - Quintet is more like Andrei Tarkovsky's Stalker, which came out the same year: in terms of pacing, production design and approach to character, the two films have a lot in common (although the way Tarkovsky bills actors under occupation rather than their character name - Stalker, Writer and Professor - is something that movie shares with Buffalo Bill.)
Speaking of similarities, although Buffalo Bill is the western, Quintet is the movie more akin to McCabe & Mrs. Miller. Set in a half-built/half-disappeared town in the middle of a desperate, unwielding winter where people do what they can to forget their miserable existence, it's almost a sequel to McCabe set in the far future. Altman said of Quintet, "It's the same thing as a western.* The guy comes into town after being gone for a long time and the town's changed and he's the hero." Of course McCabe opens with its hero riding into town, and the first sound we hear, over the Warner Brothers logo, is a chilling wind (the constant, overwhelming ambience of Quintet's soundtrack), followed by the first lyrics of Leonard Cohen's "The Stranger's Song": "It's true that all the men you knew were dealers who said they were through with dealing every time you gave them shelter." Essex is a former "dealer" in the Quintet circle, the stranger who wants to "trade the game he plays for shelter" for his miraculously pregnant companion, the religious connotations of which perfectly match Cohen's lyric describing "Joseph looking for a manger." Once he's in town, the first thing John McCabe does is wordlessly introduce poker to the miners; afterwards there are constant games being played, serving as the same sort of distraction from the desolate living conditions of avid Quintet competitors. Both films were shot in Canada (McCabe in British Columbia, Quintet on St Helen's Island off Montreal); interestingly, the town of the past was built for the film (new), the town of the future was found and salvaged (old.) Altman filled the town of Presbyterian Church with actors of various backgrounds and allowed them to use their natural accents to highlight the founding of America by multiple nationalities. Quintet is similarly peopled by international stars from Spain, Italy, France and Sweden, presumably because Altman wanted to show that survivors of whatever holocaust befell the earth would come from different parts of it. The most unmistakable visual connection between the two films is the snow**, the world of each practically lost beneath it. As are people: just as a mortally wounded McCabe is swallowed up by the blizzard, a bloodthirsty St. Christopher meets his end in a sudden avalanche that buries him in the oppressive whiteness (this also sets up a surprising character moment: just when you think Christopher's death is shown to be accidental by the director to avoid having Essex do the deed himself - surely he's too noble for that kind of thing, even in self-defense - in the very next scene Essex slits Ambrosia's throat without hesitation before she can pull her own knife; like McCabe unexpectedly dispatching his assassins before succumbing to his wounds.) The threat of death is directly tied into the cold, indifferent landscape of both movies, and danger is pervasive (moreso in Quintet: McCabe, like Nashville and Buffalo Bill, ends with a violent death while Quintet opens with one and is followed by several others as the stakes go up.) St. Christopher and the other "hunters" playing the game are like the similarly fur-clad assassins in McCabe - in fact, the first victim of assassination in Quintet is Thomas Hill, the actor who played lead killer Archer and performed the final assassination in McCabe. In what almost seems like a foreshadowing of the ubiquitous pack of dogs feasting on frozen bodies in Quintet, after the killer "Breed" is shot in the back by McCabe and crawls across a patch of snow to his demise on the cold floor, a large dog ominously approaches his corpse. The most innocent individual of each respective film, Keith Carradine's Cowboy and Brigitte Fossey's Vivia, end up in the icy drink, baptised in the bitter cold. McCabe, vague about his true name, and Essex, who goes undercover using a false one, are both reluctant heroes, as opposed to Bill Cody who wants so desperately to be one...it makes them more likable. Furthermore, Quintet doesn't feel like it's trying to remind the audience of McCabe the way Buffalo Bill does - all those two movies have in common are a weird emphasis on a music boxes.
MCCABE DEAD IN THE SNOW ST. CHRISTOPHER DEAD IN THE SNOW
Whether or not he was consciously trying to recall McCabe, Altman had other intentions going into Quintet...not all of them exactly worthwhile. Ambrosia accuses Essex of "trying to find a meaning where there is none," applicable enough to a filmmaker trying to use a movie about a board game to make a Big Statement. Had Quintet been successful, could we have expected a hospital melodrama set around a group of people playing Operation, or a movie about gluttonous fat dudes who occasionally break out a beat-up box with Candyland inside? (I guess we're now expecting a ton of board game adaptations like Ridley Scott's Monopoly, but I doubt any of the characters in the film will actually be sitting around rolling the dice and buying up property.) During a speech to his congregation, St. Christopher breaks life down into five parts and flatly states that "life is a game of stages with a 'limbo' center you can comfortably stay in without risking anything" (the limbo center being an actual part of the board game itself), boldly stating the theme with which Altman wants to tie his movie together: what's the point of a safe and sheltered life free of danger? Yes, that's the ultimate board game subtext of Quintet, that fear of death is what keeps us all going. The idea of taking risks and the thrill of danger is relevant to Altman and his image as an outsider against the studios, but as the subject of a science fiction movie it's kind of obvious and - sorry to use this word to describe a theme centered around a board game but - played. In this sequence, Quintet becomes the same kind of portentous sermon as Buffalo Bill, transparent and tedious. You also have to wonder, if Altman really did equate the elation derived from life's perils with the risks he took in his own career, does that mean he was pro-Quintet? While he undoubtedly sees the death of Vivia and her unborn child as tragic, does he shrug at the same time and admit "Dem's the shakes?" Does he admire the game or condemn it?
I'd say it's both, because Altman's interest in life and board games isn't too far from his obsession with gambling, so thoroughly explored in the great California Split. As in that movie, Altman acknowledges the ultimate emptiness of risking it all for the thrill of the game - and the hollow dissatisfaction of actually winning - while simultaneously appreciating the reason to play, for "the heat of the adrenalin rushing through your body!" Altman loved gambling and took a risk with every project he was involved in during that glorious decade; it makes sense that Quintet would come at such a critical moment in Altman's longest losing streak, and the fact that he didn't compromise and do something safe was at once courageous and practical, since the Altman version of playing safe (Buffalo Bill, A Wedding) wasn't working and gambling on his next project was his only option. That he crapped out with this approach is what ultimately led to his string of ultra-safe 80's output, low-budget theatrical adaptations that took no risks and remained blissfully, unremarkably in the "limbo" zone. That's why it's hard not to be disappointed by Altman's return to glory in the 90's, where he essentially moved up only one space back to normal "safe Altman" instead of two spaces to "risky Altman" (with the exception of one late career film, written about in our Little-Loved Altman series.) Quintet's tagline is "One man against the world," which is how Altman saw himself at the time it was made: like Essex, he was forced to jump through the hoops of the establishment. Altman used to be a junkie for making movies and his extreme rolls of the dice - Brewster McCloud, Images, 3 Women - are for all their flaws thrilling to experience. As for a movie like Buffalo Bill, which has a specific agenda and hits all the right strings in its obvious aims, it's hard to credit it with anything beyond the feeling that yeah, it more or less hits all the right chords...but so what?
As something of a postscript I have to admit, if I haven't already made it obvious, that I'm something of a closet Quintet fan. It doesn't come near the shore of the inarguable mastery of California Split or Thieves Like Us, but I'm willing to say it taps into the same unique strangeness of 3 Women and in a way I prefer it over the overblown epics like Nashville. Also it would feel wrong to try and justify my love of Brewster McCloud in all its disheveled glory without admitting that Quintet is itself an interesting mess. Sure, I wish the acting was better, that the costumes weren't so cheesy, that it was 4 hours long instead of just 2 and that it wasn't designed to be so brutally, unflinchingly painted in despair. At the end of the day, you've got to admire the balls it takes to expect an audience to sit and watch people play an abstract board game with weird rules for two hours, and as much as I watch the movie thinking "jesus, this is so fucking stupid," watching it again for this article made me realize there are a lot of things I thought I hated that actually work when you think about them. Like the little scroll on which the kill list is written and ye old calligraphy the names are spelled out in - ridiculous, but then I realized: this is just pre-dating the D & D and Magic the Gathering geeks whose lives revolve around a stupid roll-playing game. These guys are gaming nerds! Of course they're going to have stupid-looking Renaissance Fair props and costumes! They even collect trinkets, the losers. The stupid character names could possibly relate to the playing tokens - one from Redstone's collection looks like a red stone, there could very well be one in the shape of a gold star, and St. Christopher and Grigor in this context makes me think of medallions or trinkets in the semblance of the namesakes. So they're precursors to the skyrimruler669s of the world who self-apply the most unabashedly nerdy names you can imagine (this doesn't excuse the ridiculous character names, but at least it makes them seem relevant; I can't explain or excuse "Essex" or "Ambrosia.") Even the much-derided foggy framing works as a homage to the iris shots of old silent movies, blurring the edges of the film so that you can't see who might be sneaking up on a character because the audience's peripheral vision has been compromised ("interior claustrophobia" is how Altman once described it.) It's not as successful a gamble as flashing the negative of McCabe (the result of which also works for some people better than others), but it's still a gamble, gotta respect that. I still struggle with the presence of the Man and His World murals, although they do look cool, I guess.
Since I enjoy board games and probability games in particular, it's hard not to be intrigued by the one Altman invented for Quintet (Fox allegedly intended to release an actual board game, those plans were obviously scrapped in light of the film's stinky performance; the rules of Quintet are posted online.) I love the aesthetics of the board itself, that there are a variety - nice ones for the "rich" people, makeshift ones for "poor" people - and its pentagonal shape, modeled after the city itself. The most interesting aspect of the game is its inclusion of a "Sixth Man," a player who sits out during the main stage of the game yet tries to manipulate the others so that the remaining player - who must face the Sixth Man once his opponents are defeated - will be the easiest to defeat. The subtle twist of the film is that Ambrosia has been the "sixth man" all along, that she's surmised that Essex is the weakest player and therefore pits the theoretically most dangerous (St. Christopher) after him, possibly knowing that an experienced seal hunter has a better chance out in the ice than a pedantic prophet, and saves Essex for her last victim. What she couldn't guess is that Essex is in fact ready to kill, in order to survive: what hope remains inside of him prompts him to kill to live. Quintet is also probably the closest we'll ever come to a film realization of Herman Hesse's The Glass Bead Game, about a 25th century society centered around playing a game that is so elusive and sophisticated it takes years of study just to understand the rules - in particular, the study of music. The score of Quintet, performed by the London Symphony Orchestra (prominently featured in A Perfect Couple), seems an odd choice at first considering the movie's lack of tension or action, until you realize (or read about it, since I don't know shit about music) the recurrence of five within the rhythm. Altman's five Fox films make up a quintet, and to examine them is to ask which Altman you prefer: crowd-pleasing, scrawling epic or pretentious art movie? Again there's that frustration: what about Altman works? Quintet lacks the little moments of brilliance that make his more popular films stand out, but I think it might work better overall. Like Brewster McCloud or A Perfect Couple, I think I kind of love it, but would never leave the statement at that without several tedious minutes of "but I acknowledge that this and that and such are indefensible." I'm sure there are people who feel the same way about Buffalo Bill, in fact probably more than those willing to go to bat for Quintet. Buffalo Bill has its defenders. I'm not sure that's the case with Quintet.
Summation:
The director: Robert Altman
The movie: Buffalo Bill & the Indians, or Sitting Bull's History Lesson (1976)
Why so out of place in director's filmography? An obvious and uninteresting satire that relies too heavily on elements from the director's previous work.
Why the director strayed: Playing it safe and repeating what worked in the past may be a smart move for most filmmakers, but for one willing to explore and risk the way Altman did in the 70's this turned out to be the worst possible mistake.
Scale of embarrassment for the director: 6/10, and only because it's the one movie Altman made in the 70's that I don't really like.
His triumphant return to form: His next film, 1977's 3 Women (although from a critical and commercial consensus it wouldn't be until The Player in 1992.)
The director: Robert Altman
The movie: Quintet (1979)
Why so out of place in director's filmography? A self-indulgent, humorless science fiction drama notably lacking in "that Altman feeling."
Why the director strayed: As with all the Fox films, an attempt at trying something different to relieve frustration over that old Altman magic failing him following a progressive series of flops.
Scale of embarrassment for the director: Quintet has its haters. I'm not one of them. 0/10.
His triumphant return to form: His next film, 1979's A Perfect Couple (although from a critical and commercial consensus it wouldn't be until The Player in 1992.)
APPENDIX: ALTMAN'S FILMS CATEGORIZED BY CHARACTER
Ensemble (gathering or group or town/city), no clear lead character
Nashville
A Wedding*
HealtH*
Short Cuts*
Pret-a-Porter*
Cookie's Fortune
Gosford Park*
A Prairie Home Companion
Ensemble (gathering, group or town/city), centered around lead character(s)
M*A*S*H
McCabe & Mrs. Miller*
Buffalo Bill & the Indians, or Sitting Bull's History Lesson*
Popeye
The Player
The Company
Focus on lead character, large supporting cast
The Long Goodbye
A Perfect Couple*
O.C. and Stiggs
Tanner '88
Tanner on Tanner
Kansas City*
Dr. T and the Women
Intimate, fewer characters
That Cold Day in the Park
Images*
Thieves Like Us*
California Split
3 Women*
Quintet*
Come Back to the Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean
Streamers
Secret Honor
Fool for Love
Beyond Therapy*
Vincent & Theo
The Gingerbread Man
* = Altman credited as writer
Links to Little-Loved Altman:
Dr. T and the Women by Marcus Pinn
O.C. and Stiggs by Christopher Funderburg
A Perfect Couple by John Cribbs
Prêt-à-Porter by Christopher Funderburg
A Wedding by Christopher Funderburg
* Altman re-used a trick that worked for him in McCabe: having water sprayed from hoses to freeze parts of the set the night before shooting which gave it that icicle-tinged sculture-ness.
** At first Altman tried to get Walter Hill to write and direct Quintet, but he was busy on The Driver. Hill would go on to helm the first episode of Deadwood, a series which owes its very existence to McCabe & Mrs. Miller.
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