Hollywood exec Griffin Mill (Tim Robbins) has been hearing rumors that his boss is getting ready to replace him with a young upstart. That’s bad enough, but to make matters worse, a disgruntled screenwriter has been sending Griffin threatening letters and postcards. A little research leads Griffin to the man he believes responsible, and in a fit of rage Griffin accidentally kills him. But the threats don’t stop, so now Griffin has to deal with a police investigation, those pesky rumors about his being replaced, and the possibility that he killed the wrong man.

CRITIQUE

It’s true that The Player was Robert Altman’s comeback movie, following on the heels of a string of misfires in the ‘80s. What isn’t true is that Altman was undeserving of his fate. He did, after all, think Popeye would make a suitable replacement for Ragtime, and unless someone spent a few years pretending to be Altman, he’s also responsible for foisting O.C. & Stiggs and Beyond Therapy on the world. Can you blame people for losing interest in a filmmaker who makes such stupid decisions? Not that Altman’s poor decision-making skills during this era should have come as a surprise.

After all, the decade he began with MASH he ended with Quintet, which is virtually unwatchable. And even after his comeback he still couldn’t get his head straight. After following up The Player with Short Cuts (both a terrific movie in and of itself and a terrific tribute to its source material), he turned around and made Ready to Wear, The Gingerbread Man, and Dr. T & the Women, all clunkers.

Is there another universally revered director whose reputation rests solely on a handful of truly great movies, the number of which is dwarfed by misfires? Hell, even John Boorman is batting .500. I personally don’t think we should pretend Altman’s failures don’t exist, nor should we pretend he isn’t to blame for their failure. At the same time, though, I’m all for giving him credit for the ones that do work, and The Player is definitely one of those.

This movie, which despite some dated trappings (Leeza Gibbons utters the phrase “who’s who” over a shot of Gary Busey) is just as timely as ever, is bookended by two fantastic sequences. The opening is an unbroken shot that runs roughly eight minutes (calling to mind the Touch of Evil and Rope, both of which are name-checked), swooping in and out of the grind of daily life on the lot. The ending is two-part punch line that gets funnier and funnier as it rolls along, savaging the comment-card mentality of blockbuster filmmaking with a swift blow before turning the whole enterprise into a self-reflexive commentary on itself, albeit one that somehow isn’t a pretentious exercise in self-indulgence.

In between is a mixture of noir plotting (which allows Altman to reference so many movies from the golden age of noir that it’s impossible to count them all), typical Altman quirkiness (the sequence at the police station plays like an outtake from Altman’s adaptation of The Long Goodbye, although in this case the winking quality of the scene actually works), a raft of star cameos (many of which bothered me the first time I saw the movie, seeing as how it took a moment to determine whether or not any given star was actually a character), and some unnecessary detours into straightforward plotting (such as the overlong scene that follows the bit with the snake). I do think the movie is a bit overpraised; it’s a very good movie, but it falls just short of being a great one.

It’s possible that his uneven output actually helped Altman when it came to breathing life into Michael Tolkin’s barbed, wickedly funny script (which was adapted from Tolkin’s same-named novel). Maybe only a director intimately familiar with the process of royally botching a movie could satirize the day-to-day workings of the system that royally botches far more movies than it gets right; perhaps it wouldn’t be possible for the likes of, say, Scorsese. Maybe you have to get to a point where it’s do or die, where all of that rage that is birthed by unfulfilled ambitions and perceived slights is driving you.

And there’s definite rage here, which is coupled with an unabashed love of the medium to fuel a movie that gives a gargantuan middle figure to the factory-farming idiocy of modern moviemaking while simultaneously celebrating what cinema at its best is capable of doing (such as, for example, manipulating you into hoping the murderous main character gets away with it). It’s a jet-black valentine to its medium, just the sort of kick to the slats the industry could use more of.

THE VIDEO

The 1.85:1/1080p--encoded with VC-1--is middling. Altman was never known for clarity or (for lack of a better word) cleanliness when it came to his visuals, and The Player is certainly no exception. There are a few bright, sunny shots here and there (their appearance looks to be a satirical counterpoint), but for the most part the movie is almost drab, with a very heavy grain structure. Here the colors look a little too wan, the grain looks more like noise, blacks are erratic, and detail is often lacking; those bright moments, however, look pretty damn fantastic.

THE AUDIO

Likewise, the DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 track, remixed from the original Ultra Stereo mix (the favored audio scheme of low-budget ‘90s flicks) isn’t much. Sure, you don’t exactly expect the track to be open and expansive, seeing as how Altman favored density, but that density should be a clear one, and here it gets murky.

The layering in the overlapping dialogue gets botched, with one layer pushed too far back and sounding tinny, the other pushed too far forward and sounding too bright. And that’s more or less true of all the dialogue; sometimes it’s buried, sometimes it’s too prominent. You can always understand it, but it simply doesn’t sound natural. There’s little surround or low-end action, but that’s not a surprise. By far the best element of the mix is Thomas Newman’s eclectic, impressionistic (and excellent) score.

A French Dolby Digital 2.0 track is also included; English SDH, French, and Spanish subtitles are available.

THE EXTRAS

The extras here were culled from the original DVD release, but the Production Notes and Cameo Guide that were included there have not been ported over.

The commentary by Robert Altman and Michael Tolkin is definitely worth a listen, if for no other reason than to hear the terminally cranky director and put-upon writer (who were recorded separately) snipe at each other.

The following are presented in standard definition:

One on One with Robert Altman (16 minutes) combines interview footage with the director with behind-the-scenes clips and snippets from deleted scenes.

Those deleted scenes (which run about 12 minutes in their full form) are also presented as a standalone piece.

Closing things out is the movie’s theatrical trailer.

FINAL THOUGHTS