More than a decade after Popeye (1980), a big-budget film that was branded a flop by Hollywood despite turning a substantial profit, and after years "in the wilderness" directing stage plays, small independent films, and cable productions, iconoclastic filmmaker Robert Altman made a triumphant comeback with The Player. It was a sly, self-aware thriller set in the world of Hollywood studio filmmaking and a wry show business satire with an enormous supporting cast of major movie stars playing (and at times parodying) themselves, and it was embraced by audiences and critics alike.

In retrospect it seems like a perfect match between director and material, the great anti-Hollywood filmmaker ("they sell shoes and I make gloves," was Altman's famous description of working within the system) directing a savage satire of the whole culture of modern moviemaking, but he was not the first choice. Producer David Brown had optioned the novel by Michael Tolkin, a screenwriter in his own right who channeled his frustrations of how the system kills the creative spirit into a story where a studio executive literally murders a writer, and sent Tolkin's script around. As directors passed or priced themselves out of contention it was eventually passed to Altman, who was busy trying to get his dream project, an adaptation of Raymond Carver stories with the working title "L.A. Short Cuts," off the ground. Altman had commitments from a number of actors but couldn't raise the financing so he took it on. "I was a director for hire. I needed the job; I saw it as an easy shoot. I kinda like the idea of it, so I did it."

Altman cast Tim Robbins, who had signed on to his Carver film, in the lead as Griffin Mill, an ambitious studio executive in the middle of a power struggle when he starts receiving threatening postcards (and worse) from an anonymous screenwriter. It was Altman's idea to ground the film in the real Hollywood by populating it with real-life stars, writers, and directors in cameos and bit parts, like he had with Elliot Gould and Julie Christie in Nashville but on a much bigger scale. Against these star cameos would be the fictional characters of the story, played (for the most part) by rising talents who had not yet become major celebrities. For these leading roles he cast Peter Gallagher (as Griffin's rival), Fred Ward (the studio's swaggering head of security), Cynthia Stevenson, Vincent D'Onofrio, and Greta Scacchi, plus Whoopi Goldberg and singer Lyle Lovett (in his first screen role) as police detectives and Dean Stockwell and Richard E. Grant as filmmakers pitching a "serious" project to Griffin.

For the cameos, he reached out to the actors who had committed to his Carver film then expanded the list, contacting anyone he thought might be game for showing up for a day or two at scale. As the word got out, more and more Hollywood veterans agreed to appear, some even approaching Altman themselves. "It became a thing to do," remembers assistant producer David Levy. 65 stars and Hollywood veterans ultimately appearing in the finished film, from Steve Allen and Harry Belafonte and Cher to Burt Reynolds and Julia Roberts and Bruce Willis, all of them donating their salaries to the Motion Picture Home. Their parts were almost entirely improvised, including the pitches that writers Buck Henry, Alan Rudolph, and Joan Tewkesbury deliver in the opening shot of the picture, an impressive, elaborate long take that references Orson Welles' Touch of Evil yet is quintessentially Altman as it peaks through windows, eavesdrops on conversations, and observes the film studio culture.

In fact, Altman improvised most of the dialogue throughout the film, much to the frustration of Tolkin, who complained that he didn't recognize any of the lines when he watched the dailies (screenings of the footage shot each day). It was standard working procedure for Altman. "A script to me is just a tool, just a reminder as to what kind of picture you've decided to make," he explained to David Thompson. "I feel it's my obligation to try and take the elements that have been gathered together--actors, the props and the weather--and do something like the scene in the script. But I don't try to make the script; I try to make the film knowing that I have the script as a platform, something to fall back on." For such a sprawling canvas, Altman directs with a clarity and wit that recalls his seventies masterpieces, and he brings the satirical sensibility of a veteran who's been through the Hollywood ringer and come out alive. "What we show in The Player is very, very soft indictment of Hollywood, an unrealistic look at that arena," insists Altman. "Hollywood is much crueler and uglier and more calculating than you see in the film." In fact, for all the cynicism and politics of the portrait, he creates a lively, bustling film with likable, compelling characters and interesting scenes of negotiations, power plays, and subterfuge.

The film became the talk of Hollywood and earned Best Director and Best Actor (for Tim Robbins) awards at the Cannes Film Festival in 1992. It was nominated for three Academy Awards, won two Golden Globes, and topped Best of the Year polls and film critics' awards. It was hailed as Altman's comeback (though he insists he never went anywhere) and its success gave new life to his Carver project, which became Short Cuts and featured many of the actors from The Player.

For all his frustrations with the liberties that Altman took with his script, Tolkin credits him for the film's success. "I can look back and say that he changed my life," he confessed. "The Player as it is, as a cultural object, exists because of Altman and what he brought to it."

Sources:
Altman on Altman, ed. David Thompson. Faber and Faber, 2006.
Robert Altman: The Oral Biography, Mitchell Zuckoff. Alfred A. Knopf, 2009.
Audio commentary for The Player by Robert Altman, Michael Tolkin, and Jean Lépine. Criterion, 1992.
IMDb

By Sean Axmaker