Defining moments in the life of Robert Altman

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When one’s name inspires an official dictionary adjective, it must be said that one has definitely made their mark. The adjective in question is Altmanesque, in reference to the late/legendary filmmaker Robert Altman.

Not surprisingly, it has a slew of fascinating meanings befitting one of the most idiosyncratic characters of cinema.

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The maverick American visionary is the subject of celebrated Canadian director Ron Mann’s latest work, Altman. It screens Sunday and Tuesday at the Montreal International Documentary Festival, a.k.a. RIDM (Rencontres internationales du documentaire de Montréal). Assembling a documentary on one of the most complex and gifted directors of our times was no simple task, but Mann, through a series of interviews with Altman and collaborators, and snippets from his works, gets a bead on what made the man tick and what made his movies click for so many.

Mann asks an array of stars who have appeared in Altman films to define the term Altmanesque. And, naturally, they have their own definitions. According to the dictionary, Altmanesque means something along the lines of an unpredictable, non-conforming and tad subversive social critic. All would apply to the man. As would a slew of other labels.

Altman, who passed away at 81 in 2006, lived a life and then some. He created a body of work that is almost unparalleled. He had his share of great highs and depressing lows. And just when many thought he was down for the count, he would come back with a vengeance, blowing all away.

Altman was, as actor Michael Murphy called him, fearless. And that, too, proved to be rather accurate.

Born in Kansas City, he joined the U.S. Air Forces when he was 18 and flew 50 bombing missions over the South Pacific during the Second World War. He would send dispatches back home, relating to his military experiences. One family member, so taken with his correspondences, suggested that he become a writer following his military service.

So Altman did. He settled in L.A. and teamed up with a would-be director. Their first collaboration was The Delinquents, which, by all accounts, was dreadful. However, it caught the attention of Alfred Hitchcock, who had Altman direct two episodes of his TV series.

And so began Altman’s career. He would go on to direct instalments of such TV series as Bonanza, Peter Gunn, Route 66 and Whirlybirds. The latter was a ludicrous show about helicopter heroes, but it’s where Altman met his third wife, Kathryn Reed, with whom he stayed married 47 years until his death.

Altman moved on to the big screen in 1967 with a largely forgettable film called Countdown. It earned Altman the wrath of studio mogul Jack Warner, who labelled him a smartass.

As Altman put it, he was fired from the studio for having the temerity to insert “overlapping dialogue” in a film. Altman just wanted to “convey reality.”

His initial film experiences turned him off Hollywood. That, coupled with the Vietnam War, which he strongly opposed, had him contemplating a move to Canada with his family.

But out of the blue, he was offered to direct a script no one else seemed to want. And so Altman made the Korean War satire M*A*S*H. Critics gushed. Audiences were smitten. The film took top honours at Cannes. And a star was born.

Altman got almost as much a kick out of the fact that his 14-year-old son penned Suicide Is Painless, the catchy tune that came to be forever associated with the film.

Typically, Hollywood execs wanted Altman to follow with a sequel to M*A*S*H, but he balked. Instead, he went on to win more raves with Brewster McCloud and the offbeat Western, McCabe & Mrs. Miller. He made it a habit, whenever possible, to shoot his films far away from Hollywood, to avoid having studio types looking over his shoulder.

The brilliance of Altman was that he was constantly innovating, often to the chagrin of the studios. The camera never stopped moving on any of his films.

He continued on a winning streak with California Split, Thieves Like Us, Buffalo Bill and the Indians and, particularly, Nashville, his unique spin on the country music scene. He set up his own studio, Lion’s Gate, to pursue his vision.

But his world would come crashing down with his post-Apocalyptic offering Quintet — shot here during a shivery Montreal winter — and then Popeye, the comic-book adaptation featuring Robin Williams in his first film role as the spinach-loving lead. Critics trashed both films, resulting in Altman unloading his studio.

He came to realize he didn’t fit in a place where execs wanted more Superman and Raiders of the Lost Ark flicks. He worried he was finished. He wasn’t getting offers. “I make gloves. They (Hollywood) sell shoes.”

So he turned to adapting live theatre to film, with limited results. When just about everyone figured he was done, Altman came back in 1992 with The Player, which many consider to be his greatest film. Not surprisingly, it takes splendid snipes at the Hollywood moviemaking machine. It also features a then-unheard-of eight-minute unedited opening shot. The film earned Altman the best director award at Cannes.

He followed up that success with the formidable Short Cuts and, among other films, the majestic Gosford Park.

Sadly, illness, first heart and later cancer, took its toll. Despite having netted five nominations for best director, Altman never won Oscars for his work, likely due to the fact that he didn’t play well with the other Hollywood children. But those players finally came to their senses and presented Altman with an honorary Oscar, months before his death in 2006.

Gracious though he was in receiving the Oscar that night, I recall the joy he had following the success of The Player years earlier. “I’m biting the hand that didn’t feed me,” he cracked to me in an interview. “I’m still the same mean old man I’ve always been.”

Not so much mean as honest. A point that Mann makes eloquently.

***

Altman plays Sunday at 6 p.m. at Cinéma du Parc and next Tuesday at 4 p.m. at Cinéma Excentris. RIDM, the 17th Montreal International Documentary Festival, runs until Nov. 23. For information and reservations: ridm.qc.ca. Altman opens Nov. 24 at Cinéma du Parc.

bbrownstein@montrealgazette.com

Twitter.com/billbrownstein