A young composer (Keith Carradine), son of a wealthy businessman (Denver Pyle), returns home to Los Angeles from his self-imposed exile in England when a top singer decides to record his songs.  Emotionally isolated from his father and just about everybody else he encounters, the young man begins a series of one-night (or hour) stands with several troubled women. 

CRITIQUE

Written and directed by Alan Rudolph, Welcome to L.A. is a drama about lost, lonely, albeit successful, people who only seem to connect with others ever so briefly and only in the bedroom.

Keith Carradine’s character is not unlike the role he played in Nashville, a womanizer who cannot seem to make a commitment to any single person.  Perhaps his character’s most vulnerable moment is when he sees his father (Pyle) for the first time in three years.  Carradine starts to embrace the older man, who halts the gesture by shaking his son’s hand.  The possibility of a tender moment vanishes and we never again see any insight from Carradine until perhaps the final shot of the picture when he stares directly at the camera, a aimless expression in his eyes.

Another intriguing character in Rudolph’s film is a housewife and mother, played by Geraldine Chaplin.  Feeling abandoned by her husband (Harvey Keitel), who is the key man in Pyle’s company, Geraldine spends her days riding through the streets of Los Angeles in a taxicab and going to Greta Garbo movies, finally winding up at Carradine’s digs where she is not totally sure that she wants to sleep with the songwriter.

In the meantime, Keitel, possibly a closet bi-sexual, flirts with the idea of bedding married Sally Kellerman, a realtor who has already slept with Carradine, and also Sissy Spacek, Kellerman’s former maid who now keeps house for Keith and will have sex with just about anybody who pays her…including Kellerman’s husband.

Lauren Hutton, as Pyle’s photographer mistress, also attracted to Carradine, and Viveca Lindfors, as Keith’s agent and another of his romantic discards, complete this neurotic cast of characters, all of whom belong on a psychiatrist’s couch.

Though the film moves rather slowly, the actors’ performances are engrossing and I particularly liked Carradine’s rendition of the title song, which was written by Richard Baskin.  Baskin’s other songs, however, were forgettable.

THE VIDEO

As part of MGM’s “Limited Edition Collection,” this is a “burned,” as opposed to a “pressed” DVD, and is manufactured from the best elements available.

The widescreen color picture has no significant problems.

THE AUDIO

The Dolby Digital Sound is crisp and clear.

THE EXTRAS

The only material MGM thought fit to include is the film’s Theatrical Trailer.

FINAL THOUGHTS