A Prairie Home Snooze

Two of my favorite things came together today and conspired to put me in the way of a new experience--one that I'm in no rush to encounter again any time soon.

I am a long-time fan of National Public Radio (NPR). Since I work from home, the radio is frequently on during the day. I listen to Diane Rehm every morning at 9:00 and take my lunch break with Terry Gross of "Fresh Air." When I run errands on the weekends, I listen to "Car Talk," "This American Life" and "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" on my headset.

I have also been blessed with a number of long-time friends--some of whom I've known since junior high. My friends are caring and supportive, and I try to return the favor whenever I can.

On Wednesday, a dear friend called and asked me to take the afternoon off today to go with her to see the new Altman film, "A Prairie Home Companion" (APHC). Even though I winced, I said yes because she is a dear friend. A quick look at the critics' rave reviews of the film weren't enough to ease my sense of dread.

Of all the programs on NPR, the one show that I absolutely, positively can't stand is "A Prairie Home Companion" (APHC). Garrison Keillor's slow drawl is like fingernails on a chalkboard to me. All that folksy humor just makes my skin crawl. Whimsy doesn't usually give me hives, but there's something about that show that just screams "smug" to me.

Robert Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times said of APHC: "What a lovely film this is, so gentle and whimsical, so simple and profound."

That alone should have been my first clue that things weren't going to go well.

The plot is simple and mirrors the radio program that has already celebrated over thirty years on the air. In the film, the radio show, "A Prairie Home Companion," which is broadcast live from the Fitzgerald Theatre, has been cancelled. The theatre has been sold to a conglomerate out of Texas and is going to be razed to build a parking lot.

I grinned when I heard that line because I like the classic Joni Mitchell song:

"Don't it always seem to go that you
Don't know what you've got till it's gone.
They paved Paradise and put up a parking lot."

Unfortunately, that was the last time I grinned for a while.

The show is an odd mix of the real APHC and Altman's fictional one. Keillor stars as the emcee GK. His real-life cast members are there along with a few of his fictional characters like PI Guy Noir and the Singing Cowboys, Dusty and Lefty. The latter three are played by Kevin Kline, Woody Harrelson and John C. Reilly respectively. Meanwhile new characters are played by Meryl Streep, Lily Tomlin and Lindsay Lohan.

Most jarring is Virginia Madsen's appearance as The Angel of Death, come to take one of the cast members with her to Heaven after the last performance. This subplot is bizarre, and Madsen, a veteran actress, overacts like a beginner.

Another of my favorite actors, Tommy Lee Jones, was wasted as the Texas executive come to shut the theatre down. Like Madsen's Angel, his role never seemed to go anywhere.

Within minutes of the opening credits, it was unclear whether I would succumb first to a sugar overload from the film's saccharine sweetness, or drift off to sleep from sheer boredom.

Every time I turned around, Keillor was singing again. Maybe that was a treat for his diehard fans. For me, it was akin to Chinese water torture.

When Keillor wasn't singing, Streep and Tomlin, playing a pair of singing sisters, were yodeling.

Kevin Kline, as the bumbling, prideful PI, was a breath of fresh air. The only time I laughed out loud was when Dusty and Lefty, the Singing Cowboys, sang a bawdy, raunchy song toward the end of the movie. By then, I could see the end in sight and was beginning to entertain hope that there was life after this movie.

I will readily acknowledge that perhaps I'm too young to appreciate the music of APHC. Additionally, my antipathy for Garrison Keillor probably plays a part in this negative review. However, I will be watching the box office receipts for this film. No matter how well received by the critics it is, I cannot believe it will be a financial success.

P.S. While in bed last night, I read the review of the movie in the latest People magazine. The reviewer nailed it: "Fans of the real Prairie--that would be me--will enjoy the film; non-fans will likely be puzzled--is anything ever going to happen?--if not downright irked."

I wasn't puzzled, but I sure as hell was irked.