Prairie Home Companion
I have only heard The Prairie Home Companion radio show a few times over the years. I would be away from home, driving around and surfing the radio dial trying to find something to which to listen. It is an odd sounding program, so it always gave me pause. Then I usually started to laugh, and I was hooked. The bluegrass/country music wasn’t bad either. For those of you not familiar with the program, it is a live radio show produced by PBS and broadcast on NPR, the subject of which is every day life in a small Minnesota town. Garrison Keillor is its originator and host.
Because my wife is from a small town (Shiloh, OH, pop: 800), I have observed small town life first hand. It IS different than what many of us are used to. Sitting in the American Legion next to the train tracks, with all the doors and windows open on a sultry August night drinking 50 cent beers, one learns what it means to come from a “red” state. At my wife’s 20th year high school class reunion, I learned how to talk about crops with a dash of animal husbandry. These guys ain’t gonna vote for John Kerry. At any rate, the radio show parodies small town life while celebrating it at the same time.
Last night we went to see the movie version of The Prairie Home Companion. It is billed as a funny movie. It isn’t. It is a mood piece. The live radio show, which is the subject of the movie, is a magnificent anachronism in a modern world where just making a profit is not enough. It has to be a lot of profit, or you get dumped. The innocent cast reminisced, sang old songs, looked to each other for validation, and hoped for the future where there was none. Garrison Keillor played himself. His real life politics are left wing in the extreme, but it didn’t show in the movie. In fact, it was just the opposite. His character was actually hard hearted when dealing with the possible demise of his show through corporate greed, and how it would affect the other members of the cast who would lose their jobs and their world.
Let’s face it; the movie is a major downer. Given some of the belly laugh humor of the real life PBS radio broadcast, the fictionalized movie ends with an absolute feeling of hopelessness when a chance for a reunion tour is dashed as Meryl Streep’s daughter takes over her mother’s finances, and death circles the diner in which they are eating. How depressing is that?
But I am glad that I saw it. Watching bravura performances by Meryl Streep, Lili Tomlin, Woody Harrelson, and John C. Reilly, the innocence of the characters they portray stands out in stark contrast to the real life world closing in around them. Garrison Keillor has created an allegory for our times, as America’s last vestige of innocence is lost in the terrible times in which we live; innocence that is stolen by economics, technology, and human mortality.
By the way, if you are into pathos and want to watch a movie dealing with similar themes but that ends on an optimistic note, leaving you smiling through tears, try The Majestic with Jim Kerry, in what should have been an Oscar winning serious role, and Martin Landau, who should have also received an Oscar.
So there we are. Now that we all feel better, let’s go get some ice cream.
Because my wife is from a small town (Shiloh, OH, pop: 800), I have observed small town life first hand. It IS different than what many of us are used to. Sitting in the American Legion next to the train tracks, with all the doors and windows open on a sultry August night drinking 50 cent beers, one learns what it means to come from a “red” state. At my wife’s 20th year high school class reunion, I learned how to talk about crops with a dash of animal husbandry. These guys ain’t gonna vote for John Kerry. At any rate, the radio show parodies small town life while celebrating it at the same time.
Last night we went to see the movie version of The Prairie Home Companion. It is billed as a funny movie. It isn’t. It is a mood piece. The live radio show, which is the subject of the movie, is a magnificent anachronism in a modern world where just making a profit is not enough. It has to be a lot of profit, or you get dumped. The innocent cast reminisced, sang old songs, looked to each other for validation, and hoped for the future where there was none. Garrison Keillor played himself. His real life politics are left wing in the extreme, but it didn’t show in the movie. In fact, it was just the opposite. His character was actually hard hearted when dealing with the possible demise of his show through corporate greed, and how it would affect the other members of the cast who would lose their jobs and their world.
Let’s face it; the movie is a major downer. Given some of the belly laugh humor of the real life PBS radio broadcast, the fictionalized movie ends with an absolute feeling of hopelessness when a chance for a reunion tour is dashed as Meryl Streep’s daughter takes over her mother’s finances, and death circles the diner in which they are eating. How depressing is that?
But I am glad that I saw it. Watching bravura performances by Meryl Streep, Lili Tomlin, Woody Harrelson, and John C. Reilly, the innocence of the characters they portray stands out in stark contrast to the real life world closing in around them. Garrison Keillor has created an allegory for our times, as America’s last vestige of innocence is lost in the terrible times in which we live; innocence that is stolen by economics, technology, and human mortality.
By the way, if you are into pathos and want to watch a movie dealing with similar themes but that ends on an optimistic note, leaving you smiling through tears, try The Majestic with Jim Kerry, in what should have been an Oscar winning serious role, and Martin Landau, who should have also received an Oscar.
So there we are. Now that we all feel better, let’s go get some ice cream.
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