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Robert
Altman's latest begins with the free-floating point of
view sometimes employed by the novelist Sinclair Lewis.
We first see a black man inside a dark bar, Theo's Place.
He's drinking heavily, and when he leaves he spots a
cruiser passing in the street. The drunken Willis
Richland (Charles S. Dutton) drops his pint of Wild
Turkey, returns to the bar and steals another.
Meanwhile, across the town of Holly Springs, Mississippi,
we are shown a rehearsal of an Easter pageant, Camilla
Dixon's (Glenn Close) version of Oscar Wilde's 'Salome'.
Camilla is bossing around the players, including her
sheepish and slow-witted sister Cora (Julianne Moore) and
a young sheriff's deputy, Jason Brown (Chris O'Donnell).
Thus Altman establishes the arena in which his story
unfolds. He adds dashes of other characters to the
recipe, and somehow manages quite a successful result: a
small movie with a large cast, an art film that is in no
way snooty or snotty, the kind of picture that stars
worth their salt give up scads of cash to be in.
These threads of plot keep crossing as the narrative gets
passed among the many eccentric and convincing
characters. Willis appears to be breaking into a house
through a kitchen window. He stumbles upon a cabinet and
begins to remove several handguns, just as an old woman
descends the steps and surprises him. We discover they
are friends, and the woman (Patricia Neal) - the Cookie
of the title, Jewel Mae "Cookie" Orcutt,
beloved widow of Buck Orcutt - treats this man like a
son. The two keep a running count of wrongs they've done
each other, and Cookie has been wronged more often: it's
a playful and endearing piece of characterization.
We find out that Cookie's relatives have abandoned her.
Nieces Camilla and Cora are not on good terms with her
(rather, Camilla is not, and Cora blindly follows any
direction coming from Camilla). Niece Emma Duvall
(apparently Cora's daughter, played by Liv Tyler) has
just returned to town from a life of alleged decadence.
She hasn't had the chance to see Great Aunt Cookie before
the old woman, in a state aggravated by loneliness,
senility, and some heavenly descriptions she got from
Willis, uses one of Buck's old pistols to blow out her
brains. What keeps our interest is the filmmaker's
handling of the body's discovery. Again the camera seems
to be floating: Altman is wisely unafraid to sustain a
shot when very little is happening. Hence we see Camilla
searching the house in real time, and we are treated to a
masterful scene when she finds the body in bed, a ruined
feather pillow covering the head, pistol dangling from a
dead finger. Thinking quickly, Camilla reveals her true
colors: she begins to gather any traces of Cookie's crime
against the family name; knocking over jewelry boxes to
simulate a robbery; stuffing the suicide note, which is
addressed to Willis, into her mouth, to hide it from the
approaching Cora; finally lifting the pistol out of the
peaceful grip of Cookie's hand. In short, Camilla
flagrantly violates the crime scene.
Needless to say, Camilla's actions hold serious
repercussions for most of the characters. What is very
impressive is Altman's sense of humor - a refined dark
comedy that also functions as social satire. This
director is experienced in manipulating the large cast,
as he did in 'Mash', 'Nashville', 'Short Cuts' and
others. We watch brilliant spurts of characterization
followed by astounding revelations about human nature.
Viewers can tell Altman is always on task, whether it's
coaxing crazy expressions out of the actors, timing the
implications of a lingering shot, or even including a
couple of visual jokes other directors would shun (such
as Close's Camilla getting caught with her hand in
Cookie's cookie jar!).
The acting is thoroughly solid in this piece. Close shows
her mastery of megalomania: she plays Camilla as an aging
Southern belle more concerned with appearances than with
family relations. Sister Cora, who sleeps in the same
room with Camilla, and kneels dutifully during Camilla's
self-righteous prayers, is a classic example of a
dominated adult. Sometimes Moore's expressions are
hilarious in their simple-mindedness, as when she sucks
in her lips, as though they are zipped, when one of the
cops comments about the terrible scene in the bedroom
upstairs. Moore has worked with Altman before, in 'Short
Cuts', the adaptation of Raymond Carver's superb short
stories, and she shows a marvelous range here. Cora is so
plain she's almost unattractive, and some of the most
funny and subtle moments are given to her, as when she
incorporates Biblical-sounding poetry from 'Salome' in
her everyday speech. Just as good is Patricia Neal, the
title character, as she shows her attachment to Willis,
and especially to her dead husband Buck. Finally, Charles
S. Dutton seems to be the main character - he links the
other characters with strands of plot that many times
display their foibles and his virtue (as when he buys a
pint of bourbon and returns it to the shelf in Theo's
bar).
Supporting roles are jewels as well. Chris O'Donnell as
Jason Brown is a green but over-confident deputy, and
receives with telling ignorance the condescension of
Camilla and his superior officers. Jason is in lust with
Emma, played with low-key loyalty by Liv Tyler. Ned
Beatty plays Lester Boyle, another deputy, who is not
afraid to point out the incompetence of senior
investigators on the case of Cookie's death. I don't know
if Beatty has the most acting credits among the cast
members, but he's certainly one of the more
natural-acting veterans Altman has ever found. In a
smallish role, Lyle Lovett's Manny Hood is quietly
obsessed with Emma, employing her in his catfish business
and refurbishing a caboose in which he is hoping she will
live.
My sole complaint is the convolutions that come in late.
Yes, some of them are crucial and well-explained, but
others seem like they're included out of respect for the
novel from which Anne Rapp developed her screenplay. A
few details are crammed in and possibly expendable.
Another of Altman's recent films, 'Gingerbread Man', is
set in the South, and 'Cookie's Fortune' furthers the
director's exploration of things American and gothic.
There are wonderful depictions here of manses and
gardens, gentility and jealousy. It would take me awhile
to come up with a director comparable to Altman; if he
were purely a writer he would be called literary,
sprawling but coherent, sarcastic but touching. At last,
he's an original, big-name independent whose small
masterworks should be included in any canon.

Related
'Cookie's Fortune' Links:

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 Welcome
to Holly Springs... home of murder, mayhem and catfish
enchiladas.

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