Short Cuts - (1993) - B+

With Nashville, Robert Altman invented the type of film which has multiple characters that randomly come into contact with each other. The films are usually short on plot on long on dialogue. The most recent examples (knockoffs) include Crash, Syriana, and Bobby. Short Cuts is based on the short stories of Raymond Carver which are condensed and interwoven perfectly by Robert Altman. Like Nashville, it has a 3 hour running time, 24+ characters, and its city (in this case, Los Angeles) plays an equal supporting character. Inevitably, these types of films have a climax (sometimes a deus ex machina) that ties the characters together and cause some of them to rethink their lives . . . The elephant in the room is Magnolia and Paul Thomas Anderson used Short Cuts as a blueprint, including the climactic act of God. But Anderson is simply much better at comedy, drama, suspense, music, everything and avoids the unpleasantness of dead children and the stunt of gratuitous nudity. In Short Cuts, Frances McDormand and Lori Singer go full frontal. Madeleine Stowe goes topless and Julianne Moore goes bottomless. With the exception of Singer (where Chris Penn – and thus the audience – is peeping through a fence), the nudity is hardly titillating, showing (somewhat obviously) that woman are much more open and naked with their emotions than men. The nudity arguably serves a purpose, but still feels gratuitous – and distracting. These actresses are great enough to convey what Altman wants fully clothed.

Indeed, 15 years out, the film also plays like a who’s who of early 90s cinema. The star-studded cast is uniformly great, particularly Jack Lemmon, Bruce Davison, and Andie McDowell as the grandfather, father, and mother of the dying child. Matthew Modine and Tim Robbins are also memorable as the guys married to sisters Moore and Stowe, respectively. There’s not a bad segment or disappointing story in the bunch, but none of the characters really change or grow (admittedly tough to do in the course of 2-3 days). Not that they need to, but if your characters argue, cheat, suffer, and lie more than they laugh, share, help, and learn, you’re in for a challenging 3 hours.

Nearly all of the characters live in the deglamorized, grungy part of L.A. Not least of which is Jennifer Jason Leigh, who makes a living talking dirty on the phone. I guess it’s amusing that she does it while changing a diaper and, in a way, it’s more interesting than PT Anderson’s similar set-up in Punch-Drunk Love. But Anderson made a whole movie about the porn industry that was nowhere near as dirty as Short Cuts. I hadn’t seen Short Cuts since my early 20s and I certainly understood more this time around. The relationships were fuller, more character connections were made, and Altman’s style was less foreign and obtuse. It has a very European sensibility, and if you’re OK with that, the rewards are there. B+