M*A*S*H.

Review #1433: M*A*S*H.

Cast: 
Donald Sutherland (Hawkeye Pierce), Elliott Gould (Trapper John McIntyre), Tom Skerritt (Duke Forrest), Sally Kellerman (Maj. Margaret 'Hot Lips' O'Houlihan), Robert Duvall (Maj. Frank Burns), Roger Bowen (Lt. Col. Henry Blake), Rene Auberjonois (Father John Mulcahy), David Arkin (Sgt. Major Vollmer), Jo Ann Pflug (Lt. 'Dish'), John Schuck (Walter "The Painless Pole" Waldowski) Gary Burghoff (Cpl. 'Radar' O'Reilly), and Fred Williamson (Dr. Oliver "Spearchucker" Jones) Directed by Robert Altman (#900 - Nashville)

Review: 
"I equate this work more with painting than with theater or literature. Stories don't interest me. Basically, I'm more interested in behavior. I don't direct, I watch. I have to be thrilled if I expect the audience to be thrilled. Because what I really want to see from an actor is something I've never seen before, so I can't tell them what it is. I try to encourage actors not to take turns. To deal with conversation as conversation. I mean, that's what the job is, I think. It's to make a comfort area so that an actor can go beyond what he thought he could do."

The 1970s were an interesting time try and push the envelope with films, so it only makes sense to cover one that its director described one that didn't get released but instead escaped. Robert Altman was the right man at the right time to have a breakthrough through directing a film as transgressive as this one. Altman had a long and strange path to this film, with his first writing credit being a co-story effort on Bodyguard (1948). In the next few years, he would direct industrial films for the Calvin Company in his native Kansas City before getting a chance to direct with The Delinquents (1957), an independent hit. It led to Altman having plenty of chances to direct for television, which he would do for over a decade that helped him hone his craft in making things on budget. Altman returned to feature directing with Countdown (1968) and That Cold Day in the Park (1969), although neither had been particularly successful. When it came time to do a film version of MASH: A Novel About Three Army Doctors, several directors rejected the chance, but Altman was the one who ultimately agreed to do it. The 1968 novel had been written by Richard Hooker [Hiester Richard Hornberger Jr], who had served in the Korean War for the 8055 Mobile Army Surgical Hospital that was based on his dramatic and comedic experiences there. The film's success would inspire a broadly popular television series two years later that would match the success of this film. Ironically enough, Altman was not fond of the book or the show, describing the book as "just terrible" and the series as an "antithesis of what we were trying to do", while Hooker also disliked the show. To add on to this, screenwriter Ring Lardner Jr, who had disowned the film for its deviation from his script, would win an Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay. Altman, knowing that 20th Century Fox was focusing their attention on their bigger budgeted war films (Patton and Tora! Tora! Tora!), aspired to make his film under budget and without too much trouble so he could sneak through without too much interference from the studio.

The film has quirks to it that would become trademarks of Altman's films over the following three decades, such as overlapping dialogue, an ensemble cast, and improvised performances, which ultimately prove forthright in making a chaotic and irreverent classic. There is a mix of familiar and new actors present, such as Sutherland (who would have a breakthrough in his career starting with films such as these), Gould (who rose to prominence in his previous role in Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice), and Duvall (man of stage, television and occasional film who would become a bigger presence in this decade), while others were fairly fresh in film, such as Skerritt and Kellerman (both having breakthroughs after plenty of prior television work), or Bowen, Auberjonois and others (such as Bud Cort) making their first appearances in film. Each of these actors have their part to play in making this satire come alive with plenty to say and do, most of which resulting in an effective dark comedy. Sutherland does well with such mischief that is balanced from the seriousness of the horrors of war on the operating table that makes for inspired anarchy with his counterpart in Gould, who never seem to be out of step with each other in driving humor through situations without needing to hit one over the head too many times. Skerritt accompanies the action at times with steady timing, while Kellerman and Duvall both make for formidable balances (and targets) of authority to poke around with (although admittedly the film is much rougher on the former in terms of crudeness of jokes). Bowen and Auberjonois step in at times to round out the cast with straight-laced dignity (or at the very least the appearance of it), while others do fine with brief moments (such as a quietly sardonic Burghoff). On the whole, this is a fine film wrapped in cynicism, right down to the title song "Suicide is Painless" from Johnny Mandel and Mike Altman (Robert's 14-year old son), which was mandated by the elder Altman to be "the stupidest song ever written." The film packs a caustic punch for 116 minutes involving the nature of war and the people who have to make the most of it in their own way. It manages to pull through without too many crude stumbles after a half century because of a game cast and capable direction from Altman in making an apt film to mark the beginning of a new decade and new perspective for film.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.