January 2007

Talking about movies: Robert Altman at U-M

By Frank Beaver

I began teaching film at the University of Michigan in 1969. A few years later I was invited to become a faculty commentator on the University's public radio stations—WUOM-WFUM-WVGR, an enjoyable task that continued for more than 25 years. Each week I wrote film reviews and commented on the art and culture of movies. What a great time to be teaching and writing about film! College students, caught up in the social and political fervor of the late 1960s and early '70s were adopting the movies as "their medium." And for good reason. Cinema was undergoing a revolution of its own, with startling new story-telling techniques and counter-culture thematics.

I had come to Ann Arbor in the Fall of 1967 to study for a PhD in film, my arrival coinciding with the release of Mike Nichols' "The Graduate." This landmark film's account of disaffected youth and its bold treatment of cross-generation sexuality set the tone for what was about to come in film's revolution.

In the decade that followed "The Graduate," U-M became a film-frenzied campus. The annual Ann Arbor 16mm Film Festival, begun in 1964 and held initially in Lorch Hall, drew independent and experimental filmmakers from around the world to Michigan. Numerous film societies, led by The Cinema Guild, sprang up to re-screen film classics and to show innovative works by independent directors. Full "retrospectives" were given for directors, domestic and foreign, whose body of films had earned them "auteur" status. During Cinema Guild's retrospective of Frank Capra's films, Mr. Capra himself came to campus to meet with students and discuss his career. So did director Sam Fuller ("The Big Red One"), the great photographer/ cinematographer Karl Struss ("Sunrise"), film composers David Raskin ("Laura"), and John Addison ("The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner").

In this period, a group of important directors emerged to lead a renaissance in American theatrical cinema: Peckinpah, Coppola, Cassavetes, Scorsese, Woody Allen and, in my opinion the most significant of all, Robert Altman. From 1969's "That Cold Day in the Park" to 2006's "Prairie Home Companion," Altman made films in his own spontaneous, maverick way. He improvised, let actors collaborate in the development of their characters and dialogue, experimented with microphone and camera placement, and defied traditional narrative structures as his films seized on and reshaped familiar screen genres.

As a film reviewer I remember the anticipation and excitement that preceded each new Altman film, and I always felt that even one of his less successful efforts was still a rewarding experience. His defiance of commercial dictates and his penchant for innovative, personal expression always made watching an Altman film interesting and fun.
 
By the time of "Nashville" in 1975, Altman had won over a dedicated group of followers that would, until his death last November, consider him one of the greatest directors of all time. The local film community also took to Altman, and at his first visit to Hill Auditorium in 1977, great numbers turned out for a Q-and-A about his work. This visit was the beginning of a long, close association with the University of Michigan.

In 1982 U-M School of Music conductor Gustav Meier and Dean Paul Boylan brought Altman to Ann Arbor to direct a Power Center production of the Igor Stravinsky opera "The Rake's Progress." In the early planning for his campus stay, I was asked to meet with Altman and discuss the possibility of our teaching a class together about his films. We both agreed that that would be fun, and for his semester at Michigan the Board of Regents named him Marsh Visiting Professor of Communication.

On Monday and Wednesday nights of each week of the term students watched two Altman films, one which had been a critical success and one which had met with lesser regard. On Fridays the class gathered in Auditorium B of Angell Hall where Altman and I moderated a critique and discussion of the week's films. Altman, who had selected the choices himself, was careful to point out that none of his films, however regarded, was to him a "failure." Each, he said, was like one of his children. Altman was warm, affable, a delightful academic colleague and teacher with a wealth of knowledge about film and the creative process. We became friends.

Two years later Altman returned to campus to make a screen version of the play "Secret Honor." It was an imaginative docudrama about an evening in the life of Richard Nixon after his resignation as President. Nixon (Philip Baker Hall) is seen alone in his library at San Clemente, talking non-stop into a tape recorder. He's inspired by photos of family members and political figures on the library walls and on his office desk. Also on the desk are a bottle of scotch and a loaded hand-gun. Nixon's rambling, booze-fed monologues are a sad, self-serving reflection on his life and turbulent political career. The drama is a private quest for "honor."

When he filmed this one-man, one-set play, Altman turned the front parlor of Martha Cook Residence Hall into an impressive facsimile of the San Clemente library. And again the visit turned into an educational exercise. The film's production crew was made up largely of graduate students in Telecommunication Arts and Film at Michigan. Altman later wrote a letter of recommendation for each student. "Secret Honor" was a critical success, some say one of his best films, and it appeared on a number of lists as one of the best films of 1984.

From this time on, Altman hired U-M students as summer interns in the New York office of his Sandcastle 5 Productions company, some later became permanent members of his staff.

Altman's earlier musical association with Michigan was reprised in 2004 with his direction of the Lyric Opera of Chicago's production of "A Wedding," an operatic adaptation of Altman's 1978 film by U-M music professor William Bolcom.

 In 1992, on the release of his brilliant satire on Hollywood "The Player," Altman offered one of the first screenings of the film to the Michigan Theater for a benefit fund-raiser. Unable to attend personally because of another commitment, Altman wrote me a letter that he asked I read at "The Player" screening. The letter opened, "I am really sorry that I can't be in Ann Arbor when 'The Player' is being shown. As you know, I have a special place in my Psyche for your city." Altman came to consider the University of Michigan a cherished part of his life. Appropriately the University bestowed an honorary doctorate on Altman at its winter 1996 commencement ceremony. The film world misses this great artist, as do we.
   

Film historian and critic Frank Beaver is professor of film and video studies and professor of communication.