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THE
COMPANY
8/10
USA
(USA-Ger) 2003 : Robert ALTMAN : 112 mins
Loretta ‘Ry’
Ryan (Neve Campbell) is an ambitious young dancer at Chicago’s Joffrey
Ballet Company. As the company – under the leadership of autocratic Alberto
Antonelli (Malcolm McDowell) – prepares to unveil a major new work, Ry
must cope with the demands of her on- and off-stage lives. Having recently
dumped her boyfriend, she soon embarks a whirlwind romance with handsome
trainee chef Josh (James Franco). Her dancing improves – but the shadow
of injury is never far away...
Well, that’s
how a nervous publicist might attempt to “sell” The Company. And
such a synopsis wouldn’t be factually inaccurate: all of these things
do actually happen on screen. But they do so more or less en passant,
in parenthesis – conveyed in the most offhand manner. Anyone expecting
a conventional dramatic ‘story’ from this film will end up with much less
– or, rather, much more – than they’d bargained for.
Because The
Company is about as far from standard-issue Hollywood storytelling
as it’s possible to get. The script may be by Barbara Turner (from a story
by Turner and Campbell), but, as we’re reminded with almost every frame,
this is very much a Robert Altman movie. And what a joy it is to see the
79-year-old maestro in such brilliant, relaxed form.
 Then
again, one is reminded of the famous cinema-queue scene from Annie
Hall, in which a dull academic is overheard loudly showing off to
his companion. “Saw the new Fellini last week. Not one of his best.
Lacks a ... cohesive structure.” Substitute Altman for Fellini,
and the comment fits The Company quite well. It isn’t up
there with, say, Nashville or The
Long Goodbye, The Player or Short Cuts. And a ‘cohesive
structure’ is hardly on the menu. But compared with the hackneyed, fumbling
efforts of most Hollywood directors, The Company is a sublime,
radical use of the cinematic medium – and it must take some kind of genius
to spin out a two hour, near-plotless film on a relatively esoteric subject,
and come up with something so absorbingly magical and transcendent (not
to mention accessible for both sexes). Billy
Elliot it most certainly ain’t.
Though less
universally accessible than Altman’s last picture - surprise arthouse
hit Gosford Park (which
earned him a Best Director nomination at the Oscars), The Company is
a more rewarding, organic, original sort of work - with a character all
of its own. Grace notes abound, and Altman fans will revel in the many
different versions of ‘My Funny Valentine’ which lace the soundtrack (cf
‘The Long Goodbye’ in The Long Goodbye) – though Altman-haters
will no doubt find plenty to set their teeth on edge. Even they will concede,
however, that the film is often very funny, with McDowell excellent value
value in his numerous brief appearances as the autocratic “Mr A.” It doesn’t
matter one bit that his character, who at one point receives the Columbus
Medal for Italian-American achievement, neither looks or sounds like any
such thing - if anything, he resembles the venerable ballet legend Merce
Cunningham.
McDowell feigns
interest in the proceedings very convincingly – as does Altman himself,
whose camerawork (in tandem with cinematographer Andrew Dunn and editor
Geraldine Peroni) nimbly captures a wide range of dance performances,
both old-school and modern. These include a showstoppingly graceful ‘rope’
routine by Julie Patterson to the accompaniment of a haunting Julee Cruise
number (a nod, perhaps, to David Lynch, whom Altman seemed to be getting
along with very well when they sat together at the 2002 Oscars). By this
point the film has cast such a spell that it doesn’t much matter that
the climactic ‘Blue Snake’ (which looks like out-takes from New Order’s
‘True Faith’ video) is more likely to provoke guffaws than gasps of admiration.
In fact, it
comes as some surprise to find that ‘Blue Snake’ is a real (1985) ballet
by a genuine, acclaimed choreographer, Robert Desrosiers, who appears
as himself. Many viewers will no doubt have suspected that the pretentious
Desrosiers and his daft (though very colourful) ballet are satirical inventions
of Altman and Turner. Then again, Altman can be such a deliciously, acidly
misanthropic film-maker you wouldn’t put it past him to have included
‘Blue Snake’ with the main goal of presenting modern dance in the worst
possible light.
25th March,
2004
(seen
24th March : National Museum of Photography Film and Television, Bradford
– Bradford
Film Festival)
For more reviews
of films from the Bradford Film Festival 2004 click
here
by Neil
Young
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