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#608 - McCabe and Mrs. Miller
Robert Altman, 1971
A gambler moves to a small mining town with the intention of establishing his own saloon.
Is it possible for a film to revise the revisionist Western? If so, McCabe and Mrs. Miller certainly seems like a prime example of such an ideal. Films like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and The Wild Bunch had presented deconstructions of the classic Western that had vastly different attitudes (compare the blue-eyed charmers of the former to the grizzled elders of the latter) but were still fundamentally similar in that they still examined certain concepts such as honour among thieves and the death of the West. Maverick filmmaker Robert Altman decided to take on the Western and, in many ways, his own approach builds on that most familiar of Western set-ups, that of a lone stranger riding into town. However, the stranger in this case is not some capable gunslinger acting out of good or evil; this stranger is the titular McCabe (Warren Beatty), a wise-cracking gambler who has his own agenda for what he's going to do in town. After charming the locals with his card skills and raucous banter, McCabe sets about with the intention of building his own saloon and brothel catered towards the local populace. Despite his bragging nature, it's not long before he gets in over his head not knowing how to deal with the women he's employed. Fortunately, his luck takes a turn for the better with the arrival of Mrs. Miller (Julie Christie), an experienced madam who offers to partner up with him. Of course, when their enterprise becomes successful it draws the attention of a budding corporation that is looking to aggressively expand into the territory...
There are no clear-cut heroes in McCabe and Mrs. Miller, though that doesn't mean that the film is devoid of good people. Despite McCabe's actions clearly being motivated by the promise of financial gain and his own apparent greed ultimately feeding into his downfall, he's not presented in a remotely villainous light. Instead, he is just a man who has a vision that may be motivated by profit but also happens to have the consequences of allowing the remote mining outpost to become more civilised as a result. His charismatic bluster may work on the locals, but he is constantly shown to be out of his depth by not only the more worldly Mrs. Miller but also by the company reps looking to buy him out (even as he does confuse them with his humourous aphorisms). The ever-charming Beatty makes it work, with his high-falutin' mixture of earthy humour and clever diction, making him surprisingly easy to root for even as he struggles with conflicts great and small. Christie makes for a good foil to Beatty as she demonstrates a much more serious approach to the idea of running a business than the idealistic yet relatively incompetent McCabe. Though her thick British accent takes a bit of getting used to, for much of the film she is as magnetic a presence as Beatty (possibly even more so). She also manages to not only match wits with him but also outsmart him quite frequently, and the duo's considerable chemistry definitely comes through as they have many impassioned diatribes. Of course, Mrs. Miller isn't without her flaws as well, chiefly the fact that she is addicted to opium and works to hide it from everyone (with the implication being that being fired from her previous job over her habit is what led to her seeking out McCabe in the first place). Christie is able to portray this side of things well, communicating layers of mixed emotion through her eyes alone.
As befitting an Altman film, the cast is packed out with quite the ensemble. I only recognise a handful of the actors involved, that doesn't prevent any of them from creating believably strong performances and imbuing even the smallest of roles with distinguishing characteristics. The film even going so far as to wring serious pathos out of the extremely unfortunate death of a bit part who only has three relatively brief scenes. I could rattle off any number of characters and the minor yet pivotal roles they tend to play in not only advancing the core narrative but also in fleshing out the world of this small town, whether it's Keith Carradine as a gormless drifter or Shelley Duvall as a nervous mail-order bride. This is helped in part by Altman's loose approach to recording ambient conversations and shifting focus constantly between plot-relevant discussions and more mundane character-driven moments (though one could easily be alienated by the sound design becoming a little muddled in the process). It's a minor flaw in the greater context of a film that manages to make you care for the somewhat simple but generally earnest population of the town while also throwing in some little surprises (such as the entire character arc of the town's reverend, which is handled with subtlety but pays off magnificently). One also has to admire how the film combines the so-called death of the West with some relatively progressive contemporary ideals, as one can pick up various subtexts about the late-1960s and early-1970s even in this 1900s setting. The degree of autonomy offered to the women working under Mrs. Miller seems reflective of the more agreeable aspects of the sexual revolution, while McCabe's struggle against a company that is maybe a little too eager to resort to shotgun diplomacy definitely serves as a good metaphor for disillusion with supposedly respectable public institutions; that and it works just fine from a narrative standpoint free of subtext.
Despite McCabe and Mrs. Miller being concerned with a somewhat thin business-minded plot, it definitely doesn't skimp on all the other aspects that make a great Western. In keeping with Altman's intention to mythologise a different image of the West than the one that had been captured many a time already, he has legendary cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond shoot the film through with a deliberately grainy and hazy appearance so as to emphasis how much of a lost era the audience is viewing. The camera movements are fluid and engaging, whether it's subtle slides or crashing zooms - how can you not like the photography of a film that will make Stanley Kubrick call up Altman just to ask, "How did you do that?" It's an extremely immersive experience - this latest viewing was done off the basis of an old theatrical print that had suffered some significant damage with the tint frequently being off and plenty of scratches, but even that wasn't enough to ruin what is some astounding cinematography. The interiors of the film's many wooden buildings feel appropriately warm and smoky, while the exteriors of the icy Pacific Northwest settlement conjure chills and majesty galore. That much is necessary when the film opts to move into more serious territory, especially during the finale that might just be my favourite snowbound sequence in cinematic history (and this is coming from someone who cites The Thing as an all-time favourite).
Another delightfully idiosyncratic touch that helps to make McCabe and Mrs. Miller what it is ends up being the admittedly anachronistic use of songs by legendary singer-songwriter Leonard Cohen from his classic debut Songs of Leonard Cohen. This is all despite the film using exactly three songs - while "Sisters of Mercy" is only used briefly during the early days of McCabe's operation as he tries to operate with a handful of very unsuitable workers, it is the other songs that make a mark not just through repetition but through sheer suitability. "Stranger Song" and "Winter Lady" serve as leitmotifs for McCabe and Mrs. Miller respectively, with the former's quickly-picked tale of a shifty mystery man being just as relevant as the latter's elegaic waltz dedicated to an equally unknowable woman. Cohen's song are just a few of many reasons why McCabe and Mrs. Miller has managed to become a major favourite that grows on me more and more with each viewing. It may be infused with more overt romanticism than more bloody-minded revisionist Westerns like those of Peckinpah or Leone, but I don't see that as a weakness. It only serves to make the film that much more beautiful and heartbreaking. Every time I see it I find myself wishing it would end any other way and yet I know that if it did then it wouldn't be the same film.
Robert Altman, 1971
A gambler moves to a small mining town with the intention of establishing his own saloon.
Is it possible for a film to revise the revisionist Western? If so, McCabe and Mrs. Miller certainly seems like a prime example of such an ideal. Films like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and The Wild Bunch had presented deconstructions of the classic Western that had vastly different attitudes (compare the blue-eyed charmers of the former to the grizzled elders of the latter) but were still fundamentally similar in that they still examined certain concepts such as honour among thieves and the death of the West. Maverick filmmaker Robert Altman decided to take on the Western and, in many ways, his own approach builds on that most familiar of Western set-ups, that of a lone stranger riding into town. However, the stranger in this case is not some capable gunslinger acting out of good or evil; this stranger is the titular McCabe (Warren Beatty), a wise-cracking gambler who has his own agenda for what he's going to do in town. After charming the locals with his card skills and raucous banter, McCabe sets about with the intention of building his own saloon and brothel catered towards the local populace. Despite his bragging nature, it's not long before he gets in over his head not knowing how to deal with the women he's employed. Fortunately, his luck takes a turn for the better with the arrival of Mrs. Miller (Julie Christie), an experienced madam who offers to partner up with him. Of course, when their enterprise becomes successful it draws the attention of a budding corporation that is looking to aggressively expand into the territory...
There are no clear-cut heroes in McCabe and Mrs. Miller, though that doesn't mean that the film is devoid of good people. Despite McCabe's actions clearly being motivated by the promise of financial gain and his own apparent greed ultimately feeding into his downfall, he's not presented in a remotely villainous light. Instead, he is just a man who has a vision that may be motivated by profit but also happens to have the consequences of allowing the remote mining outpost to become more civilised as a result. His charismatic bluster may work on the locals, but he is constantly shown to be out of his depth by not only the more worldly Mrs. Miller but also by the company reps looking to buy him out (even as he does confuse them with his humourous aphorisms). The ever-charming Beatty makes it work, with his high-falutin' mixture of earthy humour and clever diction, making him surprisingly easy to root for even as he struggles with conflicts great and small. Christie makes for a good foil to Beatty as she demonstrates a much more serious approach to the idea of running a business than the idealistic yet relatively incompetent McCabe. Though her thick British accent takes a bit of getting used to, for much of the film she is as magnetic a presence as Beatty (possibly even more so). She also manages to not only match wits with him but also outsmart him quite frequently, and the duo's considerable chemistry definitely comes through as they have many impassioned diatribes. Of course, Mrs. Miller isn't without her flaws as well, chiefly the fact that she is addicted to opium and works to hide it from everyone (with the implication being that being fired from her previous job over her habit is what led to her seeking out McCabe in the first place). Christie is able to portray this side of things well, communicating layers of mixed emotion through her eyes alone.
As befitting an Altman film, the cast is packed out with quite the ensemble. I only recognise a handful of the actors involved, that doesn't prevent any of them from creating believably strong performances and imbuing even the smallest of roles with distinguishing characteristics. The film even going so far as to wring serious pathos out of the extremely unfortunate death of a bit part who only has three relatively brief scenes. I could rattle off any number of characters and the minor yet pivotal roles they tend to play in not only advancing the core narrative but also in fleshing out the world of this small town, whether it's Keith Carradine as a gormless drifter or Shelley Duvall as a nervous mail-order bride. This is helped in part by Altman's loose approach to recording ambient conversations and shifting focus constantly between plot-relevant discussions and more mundane character-driven moments (though one could easily be alienated by the sound design becoming a little muddled in the process). It's a minor flaw in the greater context of a film that manages to make you care for the somewhat simple but generally earnest population of the town while also throwing in some little surprises (such as the entire character arc of the town's reverend, which is handled with subtlety but pays off magnificently). One also has to admire how the film combines the so-called death of the West with some relatively progressive contemporary ideals, as one can pick up various subtexts about the late-1960s and early-1970s even in this 1900s setting. The degree of autonomy offered to the women working under Mrs. Miller seems reflective of the more agreeable aspects of the sexual revolution, while McCabe's struggle against a company that is maybe a little too eager to resort to shotgun diplomacy definitely serves as a good metaphor for disillusion with supposedly respectable public institutions; that and it works just fine from a narrative standpoint free of subtext.
Despite McCabe and Mrs. Miller being concerned with a somewhat thin business-minded plot, it definitely doesn't skimp on all the other aspects that make a great Western. In keeping with Altman's intention to mythologise a different image of the West than the one that had been captured many a time already, he has legendary cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond shoot the film through with a deliberately grainy and hazy appearance so as to emphasis how much of a lost era the audience is viewing. The camera movements are fluid and engaging, whether it's subtle slides or crashing zooms - how can you not like the photography of a film that will make Stanley Kubrick call up Altman just to ask, "How did you do that?" It's an extremely immersive experience - this latest viewing was done off the basis of an old theatrical print that had suffered some significant damage with the tint frequently being off and plenty of scratches, but even that wasn't enough to ruin what is some astounding cinematography. The interiors of the film's many wooden buildings feel appropriately warm and smoky, while the exteriors of the icy Pacific Northwest settlement conjure chills and majesty galore. That much is necessary when the film opts to move into more serious territory, especially during the finale that might just be my favourite snowbound sequence in cinematic history (and this is coming from someone who cites The Thing as an all-time favourite).
Another delightfully idiosyncratic touch that helps to make McCabe and Mrs. Miller what it is ends up being the admittedly anachronistic use of songs by legendary singer-songwriter Leonard Cohen from his classic debut Songs of Leonard Cohen. This is all despite the film using exactly three songs - while "Sisters of Mercy" is only used briefly during the early days of McCabe's operation as he tries to operate with a handful of very unsuitable workers, it is the other songs that make a mark not just through repetition but through sheer suitability. "Stranger Song" and "Winter Lady" serve as leitmotifs for McCabe and Mrs. Miller respectively, with the former's quickly-picked tale of a shifty mystery man being just as relevant as the latter's elegaic waltz dedicated to an equally unknowable woman. Cohen's song are just a few of many reasons why McCabe and Mrs. Miller has managed to become a major favourite that grows on me more and more with each viewing. It may be infused with more overt romanticism than more bloody-minded revisionist Westerns like those of Peckinpah or Leone, but I don't see that as a weakness. It only serves to make the film that much more beautiful and heartbreaking. Every time I see it I find myself wishing it would end any other way and yet I know that if it did then it wouldn't be the same film.