Director Robert Altman's sprawling put-down of the Capitol of Country Music features a headache-inducing amount of overlapping dialogue recorded in a fuzzy, pseudo-documentary manner; add to that an over-abundance of 'colorful' characters and muddy cinematography, and "Nashville" nearly self-destructs before its second-half. Saved in the end by terrific performances, Altman gets superlative acting turns from Shelley Duvall and Keenan Wynn (in the film's most moving side-plot), Henry Gibson (perhaps doing a Conway Twitty), Lily Tomlin (excellent), Gwen Welles as a would-be singer who ends up stripping, and of course Ronee Blakley (whose Barbara Jean might be modeled after Loretta Lynn). Blakley's breakdown in front of an outdoor audience is unforgettable, her sanity slipping away as she babbles along happily. Otherwise, the film has a dated, drab look, talky passages that stall the momentum, and not enough sly humor (the picture leaves a sour aftertaste). Professional critics were split when the film was released in 1975; it certainly isn't easy faulting a film that begins with a plug for its own soundtrack (clever...almost too clever), and as a vehicle for the talents of Ronee Blakley, who never got a chance like this again. **1/2 from ****
Review of Nashville
